#mate if i had to work with any of these men I'd just take the l | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamywriter143 · 1 year ago

Note

Request for a jealous Neteyam x reader? Or maybe a jealous Lo'ak x reader??

Jealously

Status: Request By Anon/Scenario

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, tiniest bit of Angst, some mentions of violence and possessiveness.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Thank you for your request Anon!! I loved the idea but I was conflicted on who should I choose. And then I thought of the brilliant idea to to do both of them in a scenario setting. So I ended up doing it, got kinda carried away tho……I hope you enjoy!

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Neteyam

(Romantic Jealousy)

Neteyam is fully confident and trusting of his mate. He would never get jealous over meaningless situations or a mere glance here and there. He understands how beautiful his mate is and how that would gain attention from time to time.

In fact it’s when he catches someone gawking at her is when he realizes how lucky he is to have landed such a perfect mate. It’s just when any Na’vi men approach her with deeper intentions, that’s when his jealousy kicks in. He doesn’t like when other men think they have a shot as what is rightfully his, what he worked so hard for.

Neteyam is fully aware of where his mate's heart resides, but that doesn’t stop the burning jealousy that twists along his guts as he watches from afar. His tail swishes behind him violently as his eyes train onto whoever dares to approach his mate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Short Secenario~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neteyam’s eyes glared into Ao’nung who had approached Y/n earlier. His ears twitched uneasily as he strained to hear what Ao’nung had been whispering into his mate's ear. He was able to catch a few words here and there, none of which settled the feeling inside.

Y/n giggles at a stupid joke the male Na’vi says that further angers Neteyam. How dare he? Ao’nung knew who Y/n belonged to. Yet he still persisted much to Neteyam’s dismay.

Neteyam’s nose flares as he watches the way Ao’nung gazed at Y/n. It wasn't like how other men glanced at her, appreciating her beauty. No. It was a gaze of longing, a gaze of lust.

Of wanting to take her from him. And that didn’t sit well with Neteyam. Before Neteyam could hold himself back his feet carry him across the beach and beside his mate in a matter of seconds. His tail gave away how agitated he felt despite the forced smile along his lips.

“Ao’nung, if you don’t mind I need to take my mate somewhere. I do believe you have duties aligned for you today?” Neteyam says politely despite the rage behind his eyes, keeping the sharp tone under wraps. Even though he was well acquainted with Ao’nung, even becoming close friends. Neteyam didn’t trust him with his mate. He had faith and trust in Y/n. Just not in him.

Ao’nung nods at his words before sending a playful wink to Y/n. Neteyam’s glare seems to harden as he catches the gesture. He clenches his jaw holding back to urge to punch some respect into the Metkayina boy as he retreats. Y/n peers up at her mate, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Are you mad?” Y/n asks, watching Neteyam gulps audibly. His clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows was not fooling anyone.

“No, I’m not mad Y/n” he replies stiffly, opting not to turn to his mate knowing full well she would be able to read him like a book.

“Then why is your tail twitching?” Y/n asks, feeling his tail twitch behind him violently, brushing against her lower back every so often.

“It’s by reflex. An automatic response” Neteyam shrugs, wrapping his arm across Y/n’s shoulder, Y/n snickers, finding amusement in the whole ordeal.

“Hm? An automatic response to…..?” Y/n smiles wide when her mate turns to her. Even though Neteyam made it very clear he wasn't the possessive type, priding himself on not getting jealous often. Y/n loved the moments when he couldn’t control it. You could see the battle rage between his irises as he tried to control the feelings within him,

“I'd rather not say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~

Lo’ak

(Possessive Jealousy)

Lo’ak has always been a shadow to his brother who outshined him in everything. He was invisible and when he was the center of attention it was only for when he would get teased , or when he would get in trouble. That’s why when he landed Y/n he was cautious and careful. He treated her like a queen, placing her on a pedestal. He finally received the one thing in his life that gave it meaning.

Lo’ak immediately became possessive over her. He was never first for anything in his life so when he became Y/n’s first he became obsessed. He’s the type to coddle his mate, always staying by her side showering her with love while keeping anyone and everyone away. Why should the world see what belongs to him?

Why should any other male Na’vi have the privilege to talk, let alone gaze at what gave his entire being meaning? He’s not the type to restrict his mate to her freedom, he’s just the type to make sure no one gets the chance to get near her with ill intentions. To even try to attempt anything with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Short Secenario~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby, I told you it's ok! I can carry them just fine, they're not even heavy!!” Y/n argues, failing miserably as she tries to grab the basket Lo’ak held against him tightly. It was true that the basket wasn't heavy, it wasn't even filled to the top.

But, while Lo’ak was keeping Y/n company as she forged for herbs, he caught the gaze of the men around her. Eyeing the basket as a means to get near her. It was as if Lo’ak could hear all of them think of openings to get near her, start a conversation with her. And Lo’ak wouldn’t let that happen.

“It’s fine baby. Let me help you! Let’s get these to Mo’at” Lo’ak says smiling down at his petite angel. Y/n pouts cutely grabbing onto his arm. She presses herself against him as they walk through the forest. Lo’ak turns his head to glance at where they had been earlier. He felt a smirk play along his lips as he watches some of the warriors stare at them, stare at how Y/n held Lo’ak.

‘That’s right, she mine and mine alone’

“Oh! Y/n!” A males voice pipes up making Lo’ak’s head snap forward. His eyes harden as he takes in the male Na’vi in front of him. His ears flattening against his head as he feels a threatening hiss nearly break through.

“Oh, Ika’lu. What are you doing here?” Y/n asks in confusion. Ika’lu was her childhood friend, someone she felt a bit uncomfortable with due to how often she would run into him. It was as if he followed her.

Unfortunately Lo’ak knew for a fact that he did, it wasn't a mere coincidence that he was always present where Y/n was. Lo’ak would know, because he is always watching her.

“I heard you were picking some herbs. Thought I could help” Ika’lu replies, completely ignoring Lo’ak’s presence which further angers him. How dare he act like Lo’ak didn’t exist.

“I’m fine, thanks! I should drop them off to Mo’at. She must be waiting” Y/n says quickly, trying to pull Lo’ak along who doesn’t budge.

“Are you sure-“

“She said it’s fine!” Lo’ak hisses, taking a threatening step forward. This time Y/n tries pulling Lo’ak back from getting closer to Ika’lu, noting how stiffly he stood. Ika’lu eyes widen at his tone, turning to Lo’ak with a hint of fear behind his eyes.

“I assisted Y/n the other day, I know the best spots fo-”

“You weren’t needed then, you’re not needed now. So back off” Lo’ak gently pulls himself from Y/n. He steps closer to the male , coming face to face. Lo’ak’s eyes watches gleefully how the taller boy seems to cower under Lo’ak’s intense glare. His bares his teeth, growling threateningly.

“Before I make you” Lo’ak whispers. His eyes squint , possessiveness dripping from his words. The unsaid words being heard loud and clear. ‘She is mine’

His tone alone made the boy's eyes widen in fear. He nods before sprinting away with his tail between his legs. Y/n pokes Lo’ak’s shoulder, her pout growing.

“What was that for!!” Y/n whines, eyeing her mate who smiles at her. His demeanor changed the instant he looked her way. His eyes soften as he glances down at her pouty lips.

“What? I didn’t say anything. He’s just a wuss!”

__________________________________________

A/N: I’m sorry for not following the affluence I posted! I need a bit more time for the pt 2’s that I’m currently working on, this scenario was so I could buy myself some time. 😂😂

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maesphantoms · 2 years ago

Text

Sunset (Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood. Typical COD violence. Guns, knives, explosions.

Genre: Pure angst…like just so much pain

Word count: 2,445

This was partly inspired by a certain character’s death in Grey’s Anatomy, I won’t say who because I know there’s at least one person who hasn’t seen it and really wants to/is in the process of getting to that episode.

It all started after a particularly hard mission, a mission where you had to get wasted to even hope to get the images out of your mind to sleep. You randomly remembered that there are biodegradable urns that have tree seeds in them.

"And when I told my cousin, he goes 'Do they have walnut? That way, one day if my grandkids are eating them, someone can say they're eating Grandpa's nuts?' And it just made me die laughing."

"Do they?" Soap asked, eagerly. Gaz simply roared with laughter while Ghost and Price chuckled.

"No, sadly. I looked everywhere. But, I did find that you can become a coral reef."

"Is that what you'd want, a coral reef?" he asked, earnestly.

"No..." You paused, taking a swig of your drink. "No, I think... I think I'd want to be buried on a hill. A hill with a gorgeous view. Facing the west... So I can always watch the sunset."

That's about all you remember of that night, other than the drinking contest you quickly got into with Soap and Gaz. Price and Ghost simply sat back and watched, smoking their respective cigars and cigarettes. You certainly got everyone's minds off the horror you all had faced that day. Even Ghost no longer had the screams echoing in his mind as he sipped his bourbon. it was just one of the nights the men were grateful for your presence.

Something you'd never let them know is how terrified you were that they would have to utilize that information. You didn't want to put the burden of having to deal with your death and body on them. The day you would eventually die was coming, you know that. Your luck would eventually run out, everyone does. You've seen your fair share of soldiers KIA'd. The look on their squad's face as they hauled the limp body always filled you with dread. You just hoped that if you did die on the field, your body couldn't be found so that you would never imagine that picture of dread on your squad mates’ faces. Especially the image of Price feeling like he failed you.

This always ran through your mind as you prepared for missions. It wasn't until you were active in the field that your more soldier, focused mindset would take over. You did your best to hide the nerves, but it's hard to disguise your shaking when you got into the plane or helicopter or whatever your mode of transportation would be that day. It was worthless, you knew that, but just the mental picture of everyone’s despair as they covered your body in that damn cloth... No, you wouldn't let that happen.

“Okay, we’re nearly there. We’ll split into 2 teams. Each team goes to a separate floor, then once your floor is clear we meet and go to the basement. Ghost and Owl are top floor. Gaz and Soap, you're with me on the first. This is a hostage rescue so check fire. If you run into any cartel, well.. You know what to do.” Price stood by the door to the plane, holding onto the webbing. “Alejandro and his team are at the other compound, we all attack at the same time.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you could feel your hands shaking as you gripped your rifle tighter. Closing your eyes, you mentally pictured the blueprints of the compound you all were looking at before you left. Alejandro informed you all about the village taken hostage to be forced to work for some cartel, clearly trying to become a notable rival for Valeria. Foolish. You were sure Valeria was keeping a close eye on today. No matter how this ends, she would be one foe down.

Ghost lightly knocked his knee into yours. He knew your jitters would settle once you touched solid ground, but he always tried to pull you out of your mind. Now, he never knew exactly why you did this. Clearly, the preemptive guilt that was permeating from your pores didn't carry across your face, just the nervousness. You would gladly die to protect your small band of brothers.

And just like that, the plane settled and the tremors that wracked your system came to a stop. Ghost watched your face harden into the familiar look of focus and determination he was used to seeing on the field. With one last look, Price and his team ran to the compound. If it could even be called that. The blueprints were old, you knew that, but you didn't expect to see how in disrepair the building was. The walls that once surrounded it had crumbled away long ago, riddled with bullet holes. You could see that the building itself wasn't much better. Entire rooms had already collapsed. One such room provided the two of you with an easy route to the top floor rather than the original plan of running to the stairs inside.

With a tap on Ghost’s shoulder, you pointed to the rubble. He nodded and you both ran towards it. Your ears were helping scope out any noise other than the occasional scuffle of more of the building falling. You two had to be quick if any more of this gave way. In the back of your mind, you pictured their faces again, holding your lifeless body.

“Do you see anything, Gaz?” Price asked over comms.

“No, sir. They must all be upstairs.”

Ghost nodded at you before pulling himself up to the room above, you following suit. The sunlight was just enough to let you see that the room was the remains of a classroom. There were cubbies in the corner and smeared on the chalkboard was the alphabet. Your blood felt like ice. There were children here. At one point or another. Once again, you steadied yourself as you joined Ghost at the door.

He held up his fingers, 3, 2, 1. Slowly, you opened the door and held up your rifle. The door opened up into a hallway. You knew from the blueprints that either end of the hallway lead into another one. The U-shaped building seemed to have the same layout at least, even if it was decrepit. The classroom was closer to the right side, so Ghost pointed for you to take that side while he took the left. This wasn't unusual to you, it was faster to clear this way. Ghost could clear his side and meet you on yours as his legs were longer than yours, and his stride was quicker.

“Price, there's people in here.” Soap’s voice on comms made you jump in the eerily quiet hallway as you slowly headed towards the next door. Why were you so jumpy? Something on the edge of your mind told you you were in danger. Of course, you were in danger, look at where you were.

As you opened the door, you heard a faint scream then Soap’s voice, attempting to be soothing. Leading with your gun, you look around the room and only saw desks and turned-over chairs. Clear. You could see another room before the corner. Same procedure. Walk over, open door. This one was empty, the daylight shining off the dirty floors. It looked like there was dried blood on the floor. Clear. Going back into the hallway, you turned the corner and saw 3 more rooms.

The first room had a long conference table in it and every window was smashed. Clear. Second, a single chair and more dried blood. Clear. The downstairs team worked to get the hostages out of the building, Price calling backup as there were more than Alejandro predicted.

“Left side, clear. There were a few cartels up here. Owl?” Ghost grumbled.

“I'm opening the last door now. Everything’s been empty, so far. They must have hidden them all downstairs and left guards.” Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, “Wonder how Alejandro’s is.”

Taking one step into the room, you were greeted with a horrific sight. 10 children, all huddled together at the back of the room. A man stood in front of them with a sickening smile. He held a button in his hands. You raised your gun at him.

“Fuck, there's kids he-” You were cut off as he hit the button, and you were thrown back.

The explosion violently shook the building. The downstairs team had just walked out with their last hostage who whipped out a knife and stabbed a small woman as soon as he heard the boom. Gaz immediately shot him. Then hysteria burst out of everyone. The woman screamed then cut off into a gurgle before falling silent. The remaining men and women began screaming and crying. Price immediately began yelling for you and Ghost. Then the right side of the building shuddered with another explosion before collapsing.

“Bloody fucking hell! Owl! She's on that side!” Ghost yelled, coughing from the dust that engulfed the entire floor. Price felt a small wave of relief at his voice to be taken over with panic.

You felt heat. Heat and pain. Your head swam, trying to understand what was happening. Distantly, you heard yourself talking about urns and nuts. Then you heard Gaz’s voice.

“Who do you think would cry the most at your funeral?” He grinned.

“Hmm... Probably Ghost.” You pointed to the man who glared back. “I feel like he's a big softie. Deep down.”

“Very deep down.” He scowled before taking another drag of his cigarette, his mask pulled up to his nose.

“Exactly.” You laughed. “And I think Soap would be next, but he'd try to fight it. I mean look at him, all macho and Scottish.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He raised his hands, offended.

“No idea, just had to get a dig in.”

Smoke billowed out of the campfire and into your face. Your lungs burned. You couldn't feel your legs as the laughs fade. Then you could hear voices again. Distant, panic-stricken voices. There was massive pressure on your abdomen and legs. Fuck, everything hurt.

“Can you see her?”

“No..”

“Keep looking, we need to find her before it completely collapses, the fire is moving fast.”

Your eyes finally came back to you, but your vision blurred and spun. Then you could feel control come back to your arms. One was trapped under whatever pressed against you. As you finally broke free of the stupor, a blood-curdling scream was ripped from your throat. Pain was everywhere. Nothing was worse than your abdomen. Looking down, you could see why as blood began to fill your mouth. Fear took over.

“Owl, can you hear me?!”

“Ghost...” You could bring your voice to louder than a whisper. Looking around, all you could see was rubble and smoke. The crackle of flames was somewhere around you. The large slab of concrete on you kept you from moving. Tears began to fall down your face.

“Owl!” He yelled again before pressing the button on his chest again. “Price I can't find her, do you guys see anything?”

Price, Soap, and Gaz dug through the rubble on the ground floor. Smoke billowed out from the broken windows and holes in the building.

“More children... Keep looking.”

You brought your hand to your chest and pressed it, hoping they could hear you that way. “Help...” Was all you could whimper out. You couldn't think rationally past the fear and pain. You didn't want to die, of course not. You just wanted the pain to stop. Quiet sobs began to wrack your broken body, burning your lungs as you sucked more smoke in. All this did was bring more pain.

“Owl! Can you move?” Price demanded.

“No.” Your breath was coming in gasps.

“What can you see?” Gaz attempted to make his voice calm.

Looking around again, you tried to find something that would help them. There had to be something other than concrete. Your gun lay a couple of inches away from you, broken in half. Bringing your hand to your chest, you felt a flare still strapped to you. Turning your head to the right, you could faintly see sunlight through the smoke. An opening.

“Flare. I have..a flare. I can see...outside.”

“Good, use it. Tell us where you are.”

As you ignited and the red light surrounded you, you felt the concrete press further into you as the building shifted again. Another scream. Hopelessness.

Ghost could faintly see a red light through the black smoke. Your scream echoed around him. His heart was racing as he climbed down, slowly. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Your blood was staining the concrete around you. He couldn't see your legs, not that he'd want to anyway. You weren't making it out of here. He could tell.

“I found her.” He felt tears in his eyes.

The sight of Ghost gave you a small spark of hope that immediately fizzled out as he kneeled by you, tears in his eyes. He took the flare and threw it through the opening you could see. Dread. Guilt.

“We see the flare, hold on tight, Owl. How's she look?”

Ghost stared at you. You nodded. “Not good, Captain.” Your tears pick up speed, but your sobs stop.

“I'm sorry.” You needed to tell them, at least once. He shook his head, grabbing your hand. His hands held it so gently.

The end was near. The pain started to slip away.

“A hill.” You whispered. He nodded.

“Facing the west.” He finished.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure in the opening. The smoke started to dissipate as he was joined by two others. The sky behind them was a warm pink. Sunset.

“Lots of flowers.” You were leaving faster than you wanted to.

The other 3 joined you and Ghost. Their hands were on your other arm, trapped under the slab.

“I'm so sorry.” They all shook their heads at you,

“You have nothing to apologize for, Owl. We should've been more careful.” Price’s voice was thick with grief.

You smiled at them before looking at the sky, slowly turning a dark purple.

And so you took your last breath, your smile fading like the lights in your eyes.

They did what you wanted. A hill facing the west. You had the best view, surrounded by so many flowers. They came to visit all the time, always bringing a drink for you as they filled you in on what you missed or as they reminisced. Visiting you was always bittersweet. They missed you. They still miss you.

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justjams2003 · 1 year ago

Text

Between Two Gods: 1-Public Display

This is highly inspired by @oh-for-fic-sake's work which I have been binge reading recently on my second blog. Now, I am a firm believer that the MCU and DCEU should not mix. They don't belong together. But this idea just had me salivating and I'd do anything for good smut. If you'd like a prequel or sequel, I'd be happy to oblige. If there even are still people who read a/b/o fics, other than myself.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x reader x Clark Kent

Summary: While you and your mates are at the knot-friendly beach, you can't help but want to get frisky.

Warnings: threesome, mxm, fxm, mxfxm, p in v, semi-blowjob, a/b/o, knotting, meantions of heats and rutting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, mixing of universes, talk about pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), afab reader, no mention of skin colour or weight. If there are any more please do tell.

Word count: 2,7k

You’re not sure how exactly you ended up in this situation. You’re the most envied woman on the planet. Gossip blogs, and news articles were all over you. The first mate of two in thousands of years. And not any two either, mated to the two strongest alphas on the planet, and beyond. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, prince of the nine realms. And Superman, the God amongst men.

Not everyone knew about Superman, everyone did know about Clark Kent. Mated to one of the most famous journalists and the God of Thunder? All to this young twenty-year-old girl. It was a shock to be sure and you can’t help but drink up every moment of it.

Even now, as you relax on the omega/alpha beach you can’t help but love every second of it. Thor, as usual, has gone off to make friends. His beautiful long blonde sand colour hair sways in the win as he jumps to slam the volleyball back up in the air. His stomach muscles strain and you can’t help but feel yourself get hot and heavy.

“You enjoying the view?” Clark asks with a smirk pulling you closer to his side. “I’m sure he can smell you from all the way over there.” You smirk, leaning into to him. “And you’re telling me you aren’t enjoying his preening too?” The man of steel chuckles.

“How can I not? I’ve got the prettiest omega in the world stuck to my side with another alpha who loves fucking her with me.” You smirk, pushing one of his legs between your own and grinding his knee against your slit, begging for some sort of friction. “Speaking of fucking...”

You can hear him groan and roll his eyes. You can’t help but smirk at his reaction and pull yourself closer to him. Slotting your nose against his neck, scenting his smile and Thor’s own mark on the man of steel. Licking and nipping at that very same sensitive spot. You can tell Clark is struggling with his own mind, his hand gripping tighter to your ass.

“Omega, you’re testing me...” he mutters, trying to keep his composure and tune out your mewling noises. Or the fact that these already small swim shorts get even smaller. Tighter and tighter every time that you lick and suck on those sensitive nerves of his.

“It's a knot-friendly beach, no one here would care. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’d even enjoy the show.” You whisper into his ear, making small circles on his chest and then trailing lower. “Yes, everyone else on the planet too. I’m not exactly keen on having my cock plastered on the daily planet.”

You groan out, then see Thor very well heard how frustrated you are and you’re sure smell it too. “Fine, I’ll ask Thor then.” You huff, going to stand and give him the best puppy eyes you could. You know very well he’d do it in a heartbeat. Public knotting isn’t just normal on Asgard but smiled upon. Even done to boost morale.

You remember how strange he found it. When you and Clark met him for the first time, seeking him out after the attack on New York, you had gone into immediate heat. Sending both the boy into a rut. Thor insisted on taking you there and then, but with much, much self-control from Kal, you three managed to make it back to you and Clark’s farmhouse.

Kal grabs you by your wrist, he knows if your go to Thor he’ll make a big spectacle of it. Everyone will be involved and invited to watch. If he does it perhaps it can happen more quietly. He grabs you by the back of your neck, he himself sitting more upright. He pulls you in close and whispers in your ear.

“You want to be fucked?” He asks, knowing the answer, he can smell the answer from you. You smirked, biting your lip and giving a curt nod. He also smirks and lays back down on his beach chair. He tilts his head to his growing cock and nods. You gasp out with a wide smile, “You mean it?” He smiles and nods again.

“This is a knot-friendly beach. Nothing done here should be new or even considered publish-worthy.” He shrugs, more so reasoning with himself than with you. He loves seeing his little omega so excited. You reach down his shorts and allow his massive cock to spring free from its imprisonment.

You can already see his bright blue irises turning an intoxicating black-blue colour. Like that in which the creepiest sea creatures drift in the fast ocean. A colour you and Thor both like to call sex-blue. Thor also had his very own variation of sex-blue.

The pre-cum leaks from his throbbing, red and sensitive tip. Like a kitten, you lap it up with your cute pink tongue. From the very top down to the base of his hairy abdomen. He watches your every move. Like a starving child, you lick every inch of him, wetting him with your own spit.

Then you move his legs in between your knees. You pull on the green bows tying your bikini bottom together. Clark's eyes consume every inch of you, watching the small cloth fall and reveal your mound. “See? I told you and Thor there is a good reason for me to wear these.” You giggle, rubbing your slit against his base.

“So, this was planned all along?” He grunts out, grabbing you by the hips and lining your body up with his. You can’t even reply before he spears you, filling you up from the inside. All that you can let out is a yelp and then a loud moan. He too throws his head back with a groan.

“I can’t ever get over how tight you are, perfectly moulded, huh?” He allows you to get comfortable. And then lifts you back up and down on his huge cock. You throw your head back, it was always such a new feeling to you. One you crave far more often than you cared to admit.

Thor’s senses were going crazy. He can smell the arousal from you and from Clark. He loves it and if he could bathe in the smell he would. In fact at home, he even tried to. Every chance he has, he gathers both of you in the nest you made and fucks the both of you silly. Then after he tries to soak up as much of the scent as he can.

And now he’s sure every other person here can smell it, but none are covered in it like he is. None can join anytime they want as he can. He just loves it. But Thor is smart, maybe not smart like Tony or Bruce. Yet he knows the game his other Alpha is getting at. He also knows what his Omega is getting at.

You want everyone to know and Clark rather keep you both all to himself. But that’s what the older Alpha is there for, to satisfy both of your needs. “My, my, my, what do we have here?” His voice is deep and low and your walls seem to clench tight at his deep dominant voice.

Thor notices instantly, he knows he has that effect on you both. Clark pulls you deeper into him. He barely even notices the other Alpha there, his own instincts flooding him with lust and nothing else. Privacy seems to be at the very back of his mind right now.

“Everyone can smell you two, all wet and sticky. Being fucked silly.” You let out a loud moan at his words and the God can’t help but chuckle. Then he attaches his lips to yours. Dominating your tongue and swallowing your moans. “You like that, huh? Do you like everyone watching you? Such a slut.”

He grabs you by your neck and whispers in your ear. His other hand cupping your tit through the neon green bikini. He twists and he pulls on your covered nipple. Lapping up your mouth. He loves the thrill of knowing that his words only make you bounce faster on Clark’s cock.

“You hear that, my pretty boy, she likes everyone seeing you fuck her silly. Fucking her so good.” Thor bends down low, whispering in Kal’s ear. Sticking his nose into his neck and pulling the scent from his mark. To everyone out there in Metropolis, Superman is the man.

He’s the one who gives orders and doesn’t take shit from the government. He’s the one in charge, saving lives and calling the shots. He’s the one strong enough to carry the weight on his shoulders. But at home, he plays an entirely different role. At home, he’s Thor’s pretty boy.

Clark comes home to an Omega, ready to be coddled and scented all over. To let his frustrations out. Someone who will gladly listen to him and sit when he asks and spreads when he asks. And then his own Alpha comes home. Coddles the both of them and tells him what a good job he did, taking care of their Omega.

Someone to praise and someone to praise him. The perfect dynamic, for you too. Easily filled and by the time your next heat comes around, you’ll be off the pills and pupped up before you know it. At least that is what both the boys are hoping for, they work hard every day to convince you of it... You’ve been a bit hesitant so far.

Though right now that’s far from where Clark’s focussed. Right now all he can think about is Thor buttering him up real good. “Look at that, she’s pulling you in with that delicious pussy of her’s” He forces his eyes open, forcing him to look, knowing it’ll bring him to the edge.

That it does, the man takes you by the hips and flips you over on your back. Fast enough that you only notice that he’s deeper inside you. Thor can help himself, he can’t help but reach down and rub your sensitive clit. Red and pulsing, begging for attention.

That’s enough to bring you over the edge, your legs shake and your walls clench around him. Clark can’t help but watch you pour out around him. Clenching and pulling all at the same time. This too pushes him further, he latches his lips onto yours.

The man of steel can feel himself growing bigger and bigger. He can feel himself forming around you. Pushing himself deeper, until he can feel himself right up close to your cervix. He is finally thrown overboard when Thor grabs him by the neck and gives him a sloppy deep kiss.

You can feel his hot seed pour into you. Like the first hot water to hit your back at the start of a shower. Overcoming and overbearing. Nothing else is there but the two Alphas. One deep inside you, pumping his hot seed into you and the other one throat deep into that same Alpha.

That is until the high begins to fall and you notice the crowd that had formed. Whispers going around, “Look at how big he is!” “How does that even fit?” “If I were her I’d be ripped open.” Clark can’t help but peacock at their shock. Pushing further into you as his hot cum fills you.

His knot is still big, even after the high has worn off. He’s not even sweaty or out of breath! You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to keep up with them. As your chest is heaving, your legs feel numb and shaky. You feel so full and pressed and pulled.

“It seems we’ve got a crowd.” You try to giggle but you’re still chasing after your breath. “Yes, even after I tried so hard to avoid it.” He groans, pushing out his last few pumps of cum before his knot finally calms down. Until he can finally pull out of you, drinking up the way that cum just pours out of you.

“Is this you avoiding a crowd?” You can’t help but chuckle at him. His hands are quick to swat at your ass. “Hey, little miss, this was your idea. Don’t get snippy with me.” He commands, pulling his soft dick back into his swim shorts.

Finally, Thor stands back up but your eyes grow wide. His shorts also have a massive tent, not to mention soaking wet with what you can smell as pre-cum. The God of Thunder knows good and well that Clark would like to get out of this without anyone knowing it's him.

This omega of theirs is bring out a much wilder side to him. Thor gives Clark another sloppy, wet kiss. “Go on, get us some drinks. Anyone asks or takes any photos you bring them to me, got it?” He nods, his cheeks red and flushed, from pride, embarrassment and excitement all bundled into one. "I’ll take care of them.”

And with that Clark gave you a kiss and was jumping to follow his orders. Thor stands in front of you, covering you with his body. His colossal cock is hard to miss. Seeming needy and ready for only one thing. His stature is huge, standing more than 5cm taller than their Superman.

The God of Thunder and the prince of the nine realms bares his teeth and growls at the people gawking. The same way he would when addressing his people. When commanding his military force, when charging into battle. It’s an Alpha command, one not even Kal-El can dismiss. Simple and clear. Leave and forget who you saw.

Not a single one disobeyed. They all drag their feet and most of the Alphas hang their head low. Each and every one of them baring their neck. He turns back to you, he sees you soaking all over again. “You like that, little omega? Does my little princess like me having to command all these people, all these Alphas, to stop gawking?”

He pulls you closer by your feet. Scenting his and Clark’s mark on your neck. Licking and sucking all the spots he knows so well. “To stop staring at this beautiful pussy. At what’s mine?” You bare your neck, knowing you’re going to get one hell of a punishment for manipulating Clark like that.

“Why don’t I throw you over my shoulder? Parade you around town, since you want everyone to look.” You gasp, he wouldn’t! He chuckles at your reaction. “I don’t think my pretty boy would like that very much and he’s not the one being punished here.” You bite your lip, he knows that you know what you did.

Just then Clark returns with the drinks. Thor smiles at him, tying the strings of your bikini back up again and picking you up. He places you down on your feet, “Go, clean yourself off while the Alpha’s talk, yeah?” He gives you a light smack on your bottom. You know defying will only worsen your situation. You jump and scurry off.

Thor smirks and pulls Clark into his lap. Grabbing the drink and taking a long sip. Superman can feel his Alpha’s dick on his back. Huge and heavy. He can feel him scenting his mark and growing even bigger. “So mean of that little one, huh? Using you like this...”

He trails off, pulling Clark just a bit closer and grinding into his ass. “I might just do the same. Just look at what you do to me...” Kal can’t help but moan and lean into Thor at the thought. His chuckle is dark and ruthless. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can feel it.”

Thor’s hands wander, groping Clark's wet and semi-hard cock. “It’s okay pretty boy, we won’t do that, not yet anyways. Considering that that little one needs a punishment. You can choose after all.” They both can help but grin at the thought, watching as your soaking body walks across the sand.

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softlymaximoff · 1 year ago

Text

Her Howl

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: moya lyubov (my love), shchenok (pup/puppy), malen'kiy (little one)

— Summary: While your mate is on a mission, your heat hits you way harder than expected and all you can do is whine and burrow yourself further in your nest. Not even Yelena can convince you to come out and look after yourself when Natty is away.

— Characters: Alpha!Nat x Alpha!Wanda (platonic), Beta!Yelena x Omega!Fem Reader (platonic), Alpha!Nat x Omega!Fem Reader (Pairing)

— Warnings: a little angsty, fluff, missing nat hours, nesting, avoidance of self care.

— Word Count: 1.6k

"No Wanda I'm not going!" Natasha growled out as Wanda briefed her on a mission coming up in two days. You were curled up in your shared room already fast asleep while Nat worked on overdue mission reports. "Tasha, we really need you on this mission. Yelena will be at the compound and you know how protective she is of her. Trust me, Y/n will be okay" Wanda spoke up quietly. She knew under all this anger was fear. She could quite literally feel the hormone battle between fight of flight going on in her teammate’s body.

"How do you know that Wanda! Her heat is supposed to hit when I’m the furthest out on the mission!" the spy snarled and Wanda bared her own teeth. "Don't get snappy at me, just because you're a mated Alpha doesn't mean my status to you changes, I'm an Alpha too, mated or not" Wanda warned and Nat grumbled before harnessing he emotions and simmering down a little.

"I can't do it, I can't leave her" she sighed and hunched down in her office chair, finally letting her guard down. "I promise on Pietro that she'll be okay, you trust your sister more than anyone and if Yelena was on this mission I'd let you sit it out" Wanda reassured her as best as she could but she understood. She had seen enough Alphas go on missions without their mate and it made her somewhat relieved to not have found hers yet.

"Can we train, I wanna get my mind off it until I have to say goodbye" Nat mumbled and Wanda nodded, dragging her best friend out of her office and towards the training rooms. The pair went on for hours, practicing both strengths and weaknesses to the point of exhaustion. It was only when Natasha took a right hook to the face did they stop and take a breath, realising just how high the tension was and how much Alpha hormones were floating around in the room.

><><><><

The glimmer of sunrise filtered through the opening in the curtains and Natasha groaned as you smushed your face closer into her neck, smelling her sweet scent and kissing her gently just under her ear. "Baby hey, none of that" she sighed back tears as she pulled you out slightly and moved you to lay on top of her instead.

“Don’ leave” you whispered sleepily and tightened your grip on her. She closed her eyes and just took in the moment. Her mission was two weeks long and knowing she was leaving you just as your heat was supposed to start was killing her. “I have to milaya, they really need me on this one” she kissed your temple and you let out a whine.

“More than I need you?” you looked up at her and pouted, pursing your lips further when she pouted back and nodded. “Unfortunately yes, I’m so sorry shchenok, I really am” she unwillingly peeled your ever so slightly heating body off hers and stretched her limbs out. Arms going overhead and shirt rising above her midsection, you couldn’t help but stare a little. God she was perfect.

"I can feel you staring moya lyubov" she snickered when she caught your eyes as they darted down. "I'm gonna miss you. It's gonna be hell Natty" you tried to plead again but she wasn't having any of it. "I know you are but I'm leaving you with my best girl and she's gonna make sure you'll take care of yourself okay?" your mate gave you a pointed look as she grabbed your chin gently, ensuring eye contact was made as she did so.

With a huff, you shrugged your face out of her hold and pouted. "Don't be away too long" were your final words as she kissed your lips gently and slipped out of bed, preparing her bags for the mission. As cold as the morning was, you followed her around the room like a shadow, needing to feel as much of her warmth and heartbeat before she was gone. "Not that one" you growled slightly and ripped the jumper out of Natasha's hands just as she was about to put it in the grey sports bag.

It was your favourite jumper of hers, it smelled just like her and was a little oversized. "But that's my good luck jumper it makes me think of you" she frowned but the rejected look on your face made her reconsider her next few words. "Can I uhm- can I take one of your jumpers instead? I still need you with me" she whispered out the last sentence and you scrambled to get one of your favourites that she got for you one time.

And so the early hours were spent packing and reassuring until Wanda knocked and called for the Widow. With final goodbyes and reassuring scent markings, a mere few minutes later and your mate was well and truly commencing her mission. It was barely 7am and there was no way you could fall back asleep, not without her lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Natasha had told Yelena to make sure you were still functioning during her time away and while you were grateful for the blonde, you needed your mate.

><><><><

It was the third day of your heat and you had been insufferable. You had come out twice to eat and Yelena had to drag you out of your nest both times. In a heaped pile of Natasha's clothes, stuffed bears and her playlist, you were under it all. Surrounded. Today was supposed to be the peak of your heat and you had locked yourself in your room. You didn't want to hear, see or smell anyone other than Nat.

A low pitiful whine left your throat as you burrowed your face deeper into the Build-a-Bear she got you and it was painful for everyone else to hear. Every single bone in your body was calling out for your mate. Your mind was in a stuck loop of wanting to be as close to her as possible to not wanting to be reminded of her absence and it was torture.

"Y/n, hey malen'kiy, can I come in?" it was Yelena. Her voice was soft and warm; and a sense of security lingered slightly in the room. She was releasing calming hormones to at least try and settle your extremely high emotions, it almost felt like you were grieving for Nat. "I want my mate" you whimpered dejectedly and Yelena's heart ached for you. "I know I'm sorry" the assassin sighed as she stood by the door contemplating on what to do next.

"Do you want to face time her? I can try and sort an arrangement out with her so she's free on her downtime to call you?" she offered a little unsure on how you were going to react but all you did was let out a guttural low cry. “Okay okay no mentions of her you’re okay I’m so sorry” she tried to comfort you as best as she could from her position by the door.

With a heavy heart and teary eyes, she closed the door and let you be. Clearly anything remotely attached to Natasha was only giving you more grief. Your every so slightly rising and falling slumped body in a mess of clothes, smells and sounds was about the only thing indicating you were still alive.

Days passed and you still had not moved. Yelena came by every few hours to give you water but she was soon running out of glasses. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day your mate came home but Yelena wouldn’t be surprised if it had completely bypassed you. Night fall was probably the worst time you longed for your mate. The most you slept in the two weeks Natasha was away would only have to be a mere 40 hours.

Yelena once again, came to see if you were still alive and well but the whimpering made her physically cower from your closed door. She could only hope Nat was here for when you woke up.

><><><><

The second Natasha stepped off the quinjet she made a beeline to your shared room. Her heart was sore and her bones were aching. All she wanted was to wrap herself around you til the sun stopped rising. Yelena had kept her updated as best as she could but there was barely any signal where she had been hiding out. The last text she got was “she’s completely broken sestra” three days ago and she was panicking.

She padded lightly down the halls turning every corner with ease until she was finally at the door. Her senses going crazy as she heard your desperate howls for her. She creaked the door open and whined softly when she caught your scent, your body going rigid for a second before completely relaxing. She was here. Your mate was home.

Eager to be close to you, yet afraid to startle you, she made quick work of slipping out of her mission clothes and into your hoodie and a pair of your sweatpants. It was like she was on auto pilot. The minute she was close enough to hear your heartbeat, she was whining and slipping under your nest. Your small frame involuntarily reaching out for her when she was buried beneath the heaped mess of your relationship. Your two heartbeats matching pace and her smell finally surrounding you in person. Two hearts were made whole again.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #werewolf!nat

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leiflitter · 7 months ago

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Some of my favourite Felix quotes from the early chapters of YAH! because I love that idiot so much.

“It was two thousand and six. I wasn't about to start batting my eyes at the rugger lads, Ollie. And I'm lazy. Girls were easy.” - Chapter 4

“I won't be alone, I'll have Oliver with me. Gives us a chance to do some middle-aged man stuff- sit around and watch 1917 or Das Boot-” - Chapter 10

“So you do want to kiss me?” - Chapter 12

“Not to ruin the moment, Olls, but my knees are killing me. Reckon we could wriggle about a bit?” - Chapter 14

“He should be thanking you. Don't get me wrong, Olls, I'm not angry- but you should have crept into my room. I'd have tossed him out on his ear if you'd woken me up, gave me an impromptu handy and asked me nicely.” - Chapter 15

“Christ alive, if I had a monster like that I'd sack off the degree and go into adult entertainment.” - Chapter 16

“Oh, yeah. Firstly, I've learned- from much experience- that if you cum in hot water it gets a bit… sticky. Googled it once- something about the protein- it's just rather grim. It's why I try to float about a bit- not to ruin the mood, though, I know how you felt about runny eggs- tell me to shut up if I'm cockblocking myself, yeah?” - Chapter 17

“Well- you touch me, I touch you. Take positions, count down from three and off we go. One hand only, first to get their, erm, horse to the finish wins.” - Chapter 18

“Then at breakfast you can go oh, how's Sir Catton today? And I can go oh, ha-ha, raring to go- but do call me Felix. And nobody'd be any the wiser… Ooh, and I can send Fredders to come find you, and if he goes Sir Catton would appreciate your presence you know I'm up for it, eh?” - Chapter 19

“I was fed up with everyone going on about Wimbledon- Federer was everywhere in those shorts, Venetia and mum kept going on about his legs, and I just thought the whole look was pretty awful. So…Formal Tennis.” - Chapter 20

“You're driving me absolutely bonkers. I had to lie to Lu- told her I couldn't get off because I was sad about Venetia.” - Chapter 21

"It's you, Professor. I'm hopelessly in love with you and I just can't do anything except think about you.” - Chapter 22

“Christ on a bike. Runny eggs at mach fucking five." / “Olls? Your cock's out, mate.” - Chapter 23

“But indulge me a little- this sex with men business, Ollie, how do I hold up in the rankings? Top ten- top three- oh no, don't tell me-” - Chapter 24

“We can always do with another hand about the place- and you're already settled in at the house. You can cuddle Dozie in the Mornings, tutor Harry in the afternoons and we can be boring old men in the evenings. Sounds perfect to me.” - Chapter 25

#you're almost home #leiflitter writes #felix catton #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #cattonquick #felix catton/oliver quick #saltburn fic #felix catton quotes #yah!posting

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see-arcane · 1 year ago

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I think the issue with Renfield is that Dracula primarily hunts for young blood. Every single older person, like Mr Swales or [redacted] and [redacted] he simply murders conventionally.

I'd say he does prefer young blood as a matter of either taste and/or preference in collection, but Renfield's situation--specifically wanting to join Dracula in his condition with all its promise of immortality and power--probably rubs the Count's hackles the wrong way for a more specific reason.

We've seen him inhale a ship's crew without any mind games reserved for anyone but the final unlucky survivors, the First Mate and the Captain. However old or young the sailors were, they all got slaughtered. The First Mate may have been intended as a conscripted party; just for the pleasure of inflicting the condition on a victim who knows and fears exactly what that state entails. Hence the First Mate committing suicide by the sea rather than risk Dracula's 'welcome.' We never learn the First Mate's age; only that he chose death rather than risk whatever Dracula intended for him.

We've also seen him work with willing laborers in the form of the men who came to fill and move the earth boxes at the castle. Be it for pay, or under duress, or both, these hired men did the work the Count asked of them and laughed at the sight of a victim of their employer begging for help. However happily or grudgingly, these guys were on the Count's team. Dracula can function in a symbiotic relationship with others when he needs/wishes to...

...but none of those men were vampires. Which brings us back to Renfield.

Renfield is a middle-aged man bound to an asylum cell who promises fealty to the Count as his master in exchange for Dracula's accepting/turning him. As yet, there's no immediate benefit to be gained by acknowledging him. Certainly none to be gained by turning him. Specifically because Renfield wants it.

How old is Dracula? How many times do you think he's encountered those like Renfield, pulling at his cloak like a child at mother's aprons strings, begging for a share of his power without realizing the tradeoff? Or worse, knowing and not caring?

We're going to see exactly what Dracula's version of vampirism does to a turned victim in this book. It's not pretty. It is, as some folks have suggested, a turning up of impulse and id to the highest power, with all the violent carelessness that entails. It turns good, virtuous, self-sacrificing souls into vicious funhouse mirror versions of themselves, enslaved to Dracula, but ultimately as blithely focused on What I Want Right Now as the Brides were in the castle.

Now consider what would happen if Dracula went around turning, say, business moguls. Hedonistic aristos. Gluttons. Cutthroats. Individuals hungry for power at the cost of others' lives, regardless of species. Renfield is thankfully not striking too high on the food chain as of yet.

But Dracula can scent what Renfield has the potential for as surely as Renfield detected his arrival. He will never risk turning said potential into its worst possible form by way of vampirism. If he did, his little binge on the Demeter would look like a mere cheat day compared to what a full-blown vampiric Renfield would do to an entire dock's worth of bodies.

We've seen already that Dracula has a hell of a time just keeping the Weird Sisters in line, and those are just three girls who we can assume he's had a hold of for potentially centuries. Regardless of any oaths of loyalty from the living man, Renfield would be a bottomless pit the moment he turned, taking up all of Dracula's focus in trying to stop him from devouring the countryside in a spree.

And that would just be Renfield. What would he do with a whole colony made from the foundation of less-than-sterling individuals? Even as the biggest fish in the pond, Dracula's would-be conquest would turn into a massacre of merely non-saintly parties turned into outright demons.

All of which is a very longwinded way of saying Dracula is choosy over more than youth, pretty faces, and the fun of a good mind game. He has to be choosy about a prospective new vampire's spiritual status too.

If Jonathan had just been some asshole, or even just a flatly ordinary man, not only would he not have lasted the two months in the castle, he'd never have been targeted for turning. If Lucy was just some snobbish beauty with a lucrative medical condition, she'd have been dead the first night Dracula called her to him. But they were and are good people; and they were and are afraid of him, consciously or subconsciously. They do not want what he means to give them.

And for cruelty, coveting, conquest, and caution's sake, that's exactly why Dracula forces it on them.

#whoops you activated the Ramble #r.m. renfield #jonathan harker #lucy westenra #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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What irritates me so much about the Leafpool and the three situation is: it's Starclan's fault. It never had to happen in cannon. Squirrelflight isn't barren. If the Erin's wanted drama, they could have made the three Ashfur's, and had Squirrel pretend they're Bramble's. I'm glad in BB you made her barren, but it still just irritates me. Leafpool got done so dirty. If I was in her paws, and after Bramble had me forcibly step down, I'd ask someone to honor sire (maybe from a different clan?) kits for me then look Bramble straight in the eye as I started showing.

It's one in a long list of "retcons that happened to reduce the agency of characters because the warrior fandom will otherwise find any reason to fucking hate women." I don't believe that Po3 was written with the revelation of Leafpool's Wish in mind.

(leafpool's wish is where the "barren/StarClan telling Squilf to take the kids" Thing comes from)

In fact, most books that come out seem to completely forget the detail. Squirrelflight's Hope doesn't mention it. Bramblestar's Storm totally omitted it. Squirrelflight is never pissed that StarClan literally lied to her.

So it makes it really feel like a less egregious version of Spottedleaf's Heart; a poorly thought-out addition specifically aimed at the fandom misogynists who write screeds about how Brambleclaw/Thistleclaw Were Good Actually and their shitty behavior was just a Bad Woman Who Wronged The Poor Babies.

AND to be clear what I'm getting at with this comparison is that both these books are awful, because they're cowardly. They don't stick to their guns and say, "BLUESTAR AND SQUIRRELFLIGHT WERE RIGHT TO MISTRUST THESE MEN BASED ON THE REASONS THEY HAD." They badly retcon in EXTRA reasons for them to come to the conclusions they did.

They concede to the fandom misogynist. Their existence agrees that the original reasons they had were weak, so the writers shoveled in extra horseshit to make them "more correct" to do what they did.

"Don't worry guys, it's not that Squirrelflight took her sister's children to protect everyone involved, and that she's right to mistrust her mate who trained in HELL and never revealed any of his own secrets until his shitty half-brother killed her dad once. Nope! God lied to her and told her to. Told her she was barren, even. Now Squilf can remain morally pure while Brambleclaw abuses the shit out of her. Soblem Prolved."

So like... I don't even think that they should have been Ashfur's. This worked perfectly fine as it was in Po3. Just commit, assholes. Bramblestar's an untrustworthy piece of shit. Condemn him for turning on his children, confirming every terrible suspicion Squirrelflight had. Point out that the Three get treated differently when the secret comes out. Ask what, exactly, Leafpool could have done differently and have people have different opinions on this.

but like. keep squirrelflight being barren :/ Please let women just be unable to have kids sometimes. Please.

#bone babble #tw spottedleaf's heart #warrior cats analysis

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years ago

Text

i kissed a girl // logan sargeant

summary: logan should have known better than to kiss the college girl at that dive bar. especially when to the untrained eye, she looked like she had a boyfriend already

pairing: logan sargeant x female reader

warnings: bar fight, nicholas latifi gets punched in the face, miscommunication. alcohol based bad decisions. logan also gets punched once or twice. y/n isn't taking any of his shit.

making fun of him is so easy and also so much fun-

author's note: this is pure satire, this is a joke. please do not take it seriously. it’s not that deep.

please do not take this seriously.

austin, texas. october 2022.

"i'm sorry, again, about taking your seat next year."

across the booth, nicholas latifi grumbled, reaching for his beer bottle. "somebody was going to take it eventually. i just wish i'd had more time."

the drivers for the williams formula one team were sitting in the middle of a dive bar following the free practice sessions on friday morning. there was an air of unease among the group, an awkward bit of tension between logan sargeant and nicholas latifi, on edriver coming in to take the other's place.

"he doesn't even have his super license yet, mate." jack aitken shook his head. "there's still hope for you yet, i don't think jost has a backup plan."

alex albon chuckled. "good old jost. he's retiring, you know. he doens't want people knowing until the season is over."

nicky sighed softly, raising his bottle of corona. "to jost."

"to jost!" the other three drivers echoed, clinking the bottles together.

a country song roared in the background, a group of girls in tight jeans and cowboy hats gathered around a pool table, guys in tight white shirts and cowboy boots at the bar. it was the most texan joint in the whole of texas. there wasn't a single meal that didn't have red meat in it.

and that's when he saw her, out of the corner of his eye, walking into the bar in a tight denim jacket, the collar of a white buttoned shirt poking out over the top, a pair of suede booties on her feet as she shyly meandered over to the bar.

"dude," alex laughed. "she's so not your type."

"fuck off, alex." logan glowered. "i'm just lookin'."

"she looks like she'd punch him in the face if he tried to talk to her." nicky remarked.

logan rolled his eyes. "no she doesn't."

"she has that 'i hate everybody' look on her face."

"i'm settling this." logan shook his head, placing his bottle of corona back on the table. "i'm going to buy her a drink."

"and you think that's really going to work, mr. questionable family ties and cocky american charm?" jack snickered.

tuning out his teammates, logan slid out of the booth as a kid rock song began to play. the girl was alone at the bar, her muscular escort in the back playing a round of pool with some college students that he appeared to know.

clearing his throat, logan took a seat at the barstool next to her.

"that seat is taken." her voice was deeper than he expected, her texan drawl faint. "i don't appreciate it when strange men in bars, where the entire counter seating section is empty, decide to sit right next to me without asking first.

"my apologies." logan dialed up the charm, extending his arm for a handshake. "logan sargeant, future williams f1 driver."

this got her attention.

she swiveled in her seat, raising her eyebrows. her skin was washed purple under the bar lights. up close, logan was wondering if maybe she really was his type.

"i've heard about you, sargeant. you're a pay driver. williams' last hope. i know my shit, and i know that guys like you don't date girls like me."

logan leaned against the bar, trying to pretend that he couldn't hear nicholas, alex and jack laughing at him from the booth. "what do you mean 'guys like me'?"

"cocky florida frat boys who think they're entitled to everything because they have money. and i'm the quiet, independent type who was raised better than to think that dating a man with money would solve all of my problems." she smiled sweetly, playing with the straw in her soft drink. cherry coke, if logan was pressed to make a guess.

she didn't even fucking drink. and he didn't know what to say.

maybe he liked being put in his place.

or maybe he was just looking for a fight.

she laughed. "cat got your tongue, sargeant? god, you're just as shallow as i thought. the kind of television character i'd enjoy making fun of."

"who said i was looking for a relationship? even just a first date?"

"i don't do one night stands. nice try, though."

back at the booth, the other three williams drivers could hardly contain their laughter.

"look at how red he is!" nicholas latifi panted. "she really put him in his place."

alex raised an eyebrow "i think he's enjoying it a little too much, if you know what i mean."

"this has been fun, logan. you're a real charmer, even though i've done all the talking." the mystery girl said, gathering her jacket in her arms and moving to get off the barstool. "but i came here with someone, and we were actually waiting for a table to open up next door."

"is he your boyfriend? you're too good for him."

it was just supposed to be a line. but as he said it, logan was realizing that it was the truth.

"maybe he is, maybe he isn't. what's it to you?"

logan grinned. "i just think you're really pretty."

he shouldn't have done it. every synapse in his body was telling him not to do it. but impulse control and good-decision-making, especially while drunk has never been logan's forte.

so when he kissed her, he should have known there would be consequences.

for a moment, it felt like she was kissing him back. but it's not like he could explore that feeling before his body was yanked away from hers.

"who the fuck do you think you are?" the man in the muscle tank and sweats barked at the driver, who was likely only half the body weight of the tattooed muscle man standing across from him.

"look, i don't want any trouble, dude. she kissed me back!"

she rolled her eyes. "manolo, knock it off."

the bar quieted, the last bars of 'all summer long' fading out. y/n didn;t trust people who knew all the words to more than one kid rock song, and logan looked like the type who had memorized 'all summer long'. that's not to say that she didn't think it might be fun to mess around with him for a little, never going too far or getting too serious.

but the line to 'serious' had been crossed when manolo forgot that he was a family friend, not her older brother.

"no, i won't knock it off, y/n! he kissed you even after you said you were already here with someone."

"don't make a scene!"

nobody was sure who acted first.

it could have been logan, who was just trying to get his polo shirt free from manolo's fingers and accidentally headbutted the man in the arm. it could have been manolo, who'd hold on logan's shirt quickly became a punch in the jaw.

but that's when all hell broke loose.

nicky and jack jumped up from the table to try and separate the two men, just as logan threw his first punch.

nicholas latifi just happened to be the unfortunate fucker who pushed logan back when manolo retaliated, with the canadian catching a fist to the nose.

"that wasn't very nice!" he shouted, holding his now-bleeding face as alex joined the fray, pulling logan back from the italian.

"manolo, stop!" y/n shouted, standing in the middle of the fray. "let's just go."

she watched manolo leave, mumbling and huffing to himself about how men should know better than to make moves on girls who so clearly aren't interested.

not to say that y/n wasn't mildly intrigued by the florida man, but she wouldn't go as far as to say she was interested.

"sorry about manolo. he forgets his place sometimes. and you should learn yours, sargeant." she grinned. "it's at the back of a twenty car grid, bottom of the wdc. i'll see you on the big screen, pay driver."

"thanks for making my night more interesting."

"dude," alex chuckled. "you were in way over your head."

"shut up!"

#logan sargeant x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #williams formula 1 #lovelytsunodas katy perry series #Spotify #this is not meant to be taken seriously at all #he looks like a guy i kissed #its not that deep guys #i am neither pro nor anti this man i am just in a state of 'making fun of him will be fun'

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smaptain-smerica · 1 year ago

Text

Sparrow

Part 1 - Little Bird

Pairing: Female!reader x Ghost x König

Summary: Sparrow partners up with soldiers Ghost and Soap on an intel gathering mission when the scars of her past get her into a dangerous situation. After being rescued by KorTac forces, she finds herself working along side them to ensure her freedom.

Maturity: depictions of violence and torture as well as harsh profanity will be written into this story. 16+ recommended

Masterlist

Chapter 3

While you were getting ready for bed, a gentle knock sounded from the open doorway. You turned your head to be greeted by Soap, a lazy smirk on his face.

"Need something, Soap?" You asked, your eyes flicking to his bare chest for only a moment before returning to his eyes. Why were all these men excessively well muscled?

"Just wondering when my bedtime story was." His tone was teasing, though it implied he was taking more of a jab at Ghost than you. You chuckled and shook your head gently at the comment.

"Don't worry I was about to come tuck you in too." You joked, taking a seat on the end of your bed. Soap took that as his invitation to join you. Whether it was or not.

"I don't think I've seen Ghost warm up to someone as quickly as he has you."

You looked over at Soap, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He responded by lazily looking towards you while he began talking again. "Do you know how many people he has willingly fallen asleep next to?" Soap questioned.

You opened your mouth to answer but then closed it when you realized that you had no idea.

"Exactly." Soap chuckled gently. "Bastards known me for years and he still doesn't fall asleep until I do first."

"Why are you telling me this?" You questioned. It was a valid thing to ask. This was out of the blue for Soap. He hadn't tried to engage in any serious conversations. He mostly just spat witty banter right back at you.

"Just be nice to him. That poor bastard, he's been though literal hell and back. It'd be nice to see something good happen to him."

You thought for a moment about your conversation with him before. He told you how he hated looking at the scars. You wondered if the troubled past that Soap spoke about was related.

"Thanks, Soap." You looked up gratefully at the man. He responded by giving you a crooked smile and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you into a side hug and squeezed you roughly. He took his knuckles and ruffled up your hair.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't growin' fond of ya, too."

"Alright, alright! I get it!" You laughed as you roughly shoved Soap off of you. He let out a Hearty belly laugh as he rolled off your bed and strolled for the door. He paused with half his body poking through the doorframe.

"I wouldn't mind a goodnight kiss with my tuck in tonight."

"Get out of here." You playfully shooed Soap away. He winked before disappearing back into the hallway.

The next morning you awoke and got ready for the day. Upon leaving your room, you noticed the blanket that you threw over Ghost's lap was neatly folded over the back of the couch.

When you entered the kitchen, Ghost was sitting at the table, back in his full tactical gear. He had the computer pulled up in front of him, working on something. He paused for a moment to rasp out; "Good morning."

"Good morning." You replied back to him, flipping open the cabinets for something to eat. Your eyes rested on some stale pop tarts and you reluctantly grabbed them.

Soap entered the door next, his mouth open wide in a dramatic yawn. "Don't you have any coffee here?" He asked.

You chuckled a little. "Sorry, coffee is a luxury item around here."

Soap grumbled a couple curse words before making his way to the fridge. He plucked out a beer and popped the cap off with his teeth.

"Bloody hell, it's 6 am mate." Ghost griped.

"Gotta get a pick-me-up from somewhere." Soap grunted as he sat down in the chair across from Ghost and threw his feet up on the table. "What's on the agenda today, Sparrow?"

Ghost smacked Soaps shoe with his hand, causing Soap to roll his eyes and put down his feet. You strolled over to the last empty chair and sat down.

"Not much. I need to go over some audio files to figure out where Saad and Ivan are meeting today then tap their cars. If you two want to stay here I can do this by myself." You explained. Since the accident, more often than not you worked alone. It had been a while since you had company on intel missions. It was nice though, having people to talk to when the day was all done. You were sure they must be enjoying the nice break from the fighting they usually participated in.

"We'll come." Ghost blurted out, glancing your direction then Soaps. You wouldn't have noticed hadn't it been for the conversation you and soap had last night, but you watched the two men exchange glances and Soaps face grow into a smirk. "That's why we're here, aren't we?"

You smiled a little under your mask. "Very well then. I'll take the computer and let you know when we're leaving."

Ghost slid the computer over to you reluctantly while you stood up from the table and gathered your equipment. "You sure you don't need help?" Ghost asked.

"I got it." You reassured him before walking off to your room to eat your breakfast. You shut and locked the door while you ate, but after you were finished you opened the door back up and just worked with your mask on. With no AC is got hot in a room fast if you kept all the doors shut.

You had on the headphones, listening to the audios that were recorded within the house while simultaneously reading the already translated audio transcripts that you received from base sometime in the middle of the night.

Movement caught your eye from your doorway. You looked up and saw Ghost leaning on the doorframe. You took off one side of the headphones and met his gaze. "Hi." You greeted.

Ghost simply looked at you, then at the computer, then his eyes grazed around the room. You thought about what Soap had said, taking Ghost in a new light. Maybe he wasn't trying to be brooding and intimidating. Maybe he just didn't know what to feel.

"You can come sit if you'd like." You offered. Ghosts gaze returned to yours before he pushed off the doorframe and entered your room. You watched him as he sat down on your bed and peered over your shoulder at your work.

A small smile grew to your cheeks as you turned to face the computer again. Sometimes if felt like your brain worked faster than your mouth, causing you to subconsciously mutter whatever you were reading or listening to. In this case, you were repeating the words you heard in Russian out loud into the world. It helped your brain translate them into English.

"How do you know so many languages?" Ghost asked. The question caught you off guard a little. You spun around in your rolling chair to face him, the headphones still attached.

"I thought it would be good for my line of work. I took Spanish and French in high school and just fell in love with learning. What interested me the most was comparing similarities to the way they are spoken. Most of them aren't even remotely similar to our English, which I find fascinating." You explained.

Ghost was quiet for a moment before he let out a small huff of understanding. "Never though of that before." He paused for a moment, his eyes darting over your shoulder before continuing. "That looks like English."

You spun around to face the computer again and looked at the Transcript. "That's because it is. I'm listening to the audio tapes and reading the transcripts in two different places to try and catch their next meeting a little faster."

You glanced back over your shoulder at Ghost who was simply staring at you, an emotionless expression in his eyes. "What if I read the English one and you listen? We could get it done faster."

A smirk grew over your lips. "You're very eager to help this morning."

"I'm not used to not working." Ghost chuckled a little.

"Get to reading then, Lieutenant."

Ghost pushed himself off the bed and took the half a step it took to get over to the desk. He did something you didn't expect. He leaned down over your shoulder to read the screen, bracing his arms on the desk in the process. His smell wafted down into your nose. It was mostly earthy smells, like walking through a dense forest after a rain. Pine, maybe cedar, you couldn't tell, but it made your heart race. You had to put on both headphones now to try and focus on the audios rather than the large man now looming over you, boxing you into the desk.

His chest was so close that - if it weren't for the headphones - you were sure you'd hear his heartbeat. You were so preoccupied with the close proximity of the lieutenant that the Russian you were listening to turned to alphabet soup in your brain.

A hand brushed your shoulder, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You realized it was Ghost's hand as he was looking down at you. You took off a headphone and waited for him to speak.

"Here. Read that." He pointed a gloved hand to the computer screen. Your attention drew to a chunk of text with a time stamp. You skimmed through the text to find out that their next meeting was tonight.

"Great catch, Ghost." You hummed a little, turning in your chair now to face him. He pulled back from where he was leaning on the table and was now standing in front of you. Your eyes traveled up to meet his dark ones.

You wished you hadn't had that conversation with Soap. Now, you couldn't stop thinking about what Ghost was thinking. What did he think about you? What was he thinking right now? It was so hard to tell with the cold gaze he always carried. Did he really trust you?

"Can I ask you something?" He finally broke you from your thoughts while sitting down on the bed.

You cleared your throat and adjusted your position in your chair. "Yeah, go for it."

You anticipated him asking again why you covered your face. It was a question that, without fail, you were always asked. Only one person in the task force knew the history behind it. The scars, the insecurities. It really wasn't a story to be ashamed of, you just hated the reminder of them.

"How'd you get your Call-sign?" He asked. Relief washed over you, you could answer this one.

"I would whistle songs to myself and one of the other recruits in my division caught it and would call me Bird. As time went on, that other recruit became my partner. We had created a series of whistles to communicate with each other which earned us the nicknames Sparrow and Finch. I was hoping for a cooler bird, like an eagle or a hawk, but I've grown to love it."

Behind the mask, you could see Ghost's eyes crinkle upwards in a smile. "Where is Finch now?"

A weight pushed down onto your heart. You had lost your partner, your best friend, that faithful day of your accident. The loss nearly tore you in two pieces when you found out. The two of you made it though basic all the way to graduation together. You were nearly inseparable from each other. Until the one day you two finally split off.

"He died." You finally responded with a sullen tone, looking down at the fingers in your lap. You tried not to think about it. It only happened a few years ago but it still felt fresh in your mind at times.

"How?" Ghost asked.

You inhaled a sharp breath. You wanted to tell him. Wanted to let the words tumble and finally tell somebody about what caused you so much hurt and pain. You thought back to the night he mentioned his mask. You always traveled back to that night, the words he said to you.

Because I can't look in the mirror without breaking down.

He had been so open and vulnerable. Why couldn't you do the same? If you never saw him again after this mission, even better. It would be the same as telling a stranger in a coffee shop.

But when you finally gathered up the courage to speak, the words caught in your throat. They wouldn't, couldn't escape. You stared into Ghosts expectant eyes and you couldn't speak. After what felt like an eternity you cleared your throat and stood from the chair. You couldn't have this conversation, not now. It was better to avoid it all together than to put that much trust in someone else.

"I have to go get some things ready for tonight." You said quietly as you quickly made your way out of your room, leaving Ghost alone on your bed.

Planting the tracking devices on the cars was easy. For a Russian mob, you'd think they would guard their belongings better.

Unfortunately, an easy mission did not come with an easy nights rest. A horrific memory dressed as a nightmare haunted your mind.

Your team huddled against a wall, ready to face the enemy head on. You lifted your head above the wall to peak. Your partner, finch, right behind you. It wasn't often that either you got called into the field. You always loved the adrenaline rush every now and then.

Helicopters roared overhead as you tried to listen to your captains commands. There were three possible abandoned warehouses where our targets could be. The plan was to call an airstrike and then eliminate any remaining targets that tried to run.

A woman came sprinting towards the group, waving her hands to try and flag somebody down. She was frantically screaming help.

Finch's heart was too big for his own good. He immediately stood, holding his arms out to his comrades. "Civilian! Cease Fire!"

"Finch, get down!" You hissed, tugging at his tactical vest. He ignored your warning, moving around the blockades to approach the woman.

"Please, help! My baby, my child!" The woman's English was very broken, her accent thick. It was clear she didn't know a lot of English.

"Your child, where?" Finch asked, grabbing the woman's hand as she reached for him.

"That building. Please, find her."

"Corporal that building is coming down!" Our Captain warned.

"How long?" Finch asked, determination coating his features.

"The air strike is inbound!"

"How long?" Finch demanded with determination.

"3 minutes."

Finch turned on heel and sprinted for the building. Your heart nearly leapt from your throat. You stood up to follow him but your captain grabbed you by the collar and threw you back onto the ground.

"Sit your ass back down, soldier! I'm not losing both of you."

You looked over the barricade frantically as Finch ran for the building. You let out a low three tone whistle that was code for 'use caution' but you really wanted to scream 'be careful, please come back'. Finch responded with a sharp whistle that meant '10-4'.

The minutes passed by with an eerie silence, a recruit calling out the time cards as they ticked on. "One minute till strike."

Finch was still in the building. You held out some hope that he was on his way out of the building. No gunfire was a good sign. The targets you were tracking must not be in that building.

"30 seconds."

Your heart dropped, worry clouding your features. You stared intensely at the door, praying that your red-haired companion emerged from the doorway.

"Momma!"

A young voice caught your attention as a little girl in a pink dress came running around the corner from an alleyway. The woman, who was crouching by our barricades, jumped up and exclaimed something in a different language. Your eyes darted back and fourth between the two for a second before you made your decision.

"Lieutenant L/n get back here!" Your captain screamed at you as you hurdled the barricades and sprinted for the girl. You reached her, scooping her up in your arms and sprinting back for the barricades.

"5 seconds!" The recruit with the countdown yelled.

In a last minute decision that probably saved your life, you threw yourself into the ground. Your body wrapped around the little girl to shield her from any debris.

The explosion came, sending shrapnel flying in every direction, ripping straight through your tactical gear and to your skin. The gashes stung as blood quickly poured onto the ground.

Next Part in Progress

Tag List @msjaeger @mommy3a3ha @simpinginthecorner @sweetybuzz25 @nirvanaaaonly

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod x you #cod x y/n #konig modern warfare #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x you #konig mw2 #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

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demonbanger · 2 years ago

Text

𝖇𝖆𝖇𝖞 𝖎'𝖒 𝖆 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 | 18+

/ feat: obi from fire force / fluff & smut / enjoy <3

♡ pairing: obi akitaru x fem! reader

♡ summary: a cashier turns into a burning demonic infernal as you just want to get some work done at the cafe. luckily your date, the fire captain of fire force company 8, comes to your rescue and takes care of you, in more ways than one.

♡ c/w: hurt -> comfort, slow buildup, raw sex (use a condom!), hints of mating press, mild choking, pussy slapping, rough sex, captain kink, daddy kink, size kink, reader is called “princess” and gets babied a little, two horny idiots thirsting after each other the whole time who are secretly in love

♡ suggested songs: 🎧 I’m a firefighter by cigarettes after sex / rosemary by deftones

——————————————————————————

You weren't expecting this. you weren't expecting any of this.

-- just fifteen minutes ago, 4:00 PM--

you were in one of your favorite outfits, feeling elegant and comfortable. you wore swooshy wide-legged pants and heeled boots that dangled as you sat in a tall chair. fun earrings dancing in the air each time you moved your head. brown-tinted glitter lip gloss lightly marking where you sipped on the hand-painted sage green mug. a sight to behold in the cafe. quiet, focused, charming in your own way.

you swirled a biscotti in your hot beverage and sucked on it before taking a bite of the softened part of the crunchy pastry and taking your first cautious sip of the drink.

it scalded the parts of your tongue that it touched, but you appreciated the pain, masochist that you were.

burning a hot trail down your throat, making its way down the esophageal tunnel, into your stomach. like a hot soup on a cold winter day.

your laptop was open. too many tabs open, frankly, for the project you were working on.

letting the noise of people's deep conversations and small talk fuel you to focus on productivity. you tuned their words out a little, now, as you scanned the message on the five-minute break you allowed yourself, over and over, butterflies fluttering in your coffee-filled stomach.

the handsome fire-fighter your friend set you up on a date with, Obi Akitaru, yes, the Obi Akitaru, was asking you out for a third date.

"Hey, beautiful. I hope you're having a good day. I know it's a bit early to ask, but I'd love to make us dinner at mine tonight, let me know. I can pick you up. x"

How could you say no to that? Usually men tried to take you right home from the club, or treat you as a booty-call after only asking for your social media with no real conversation going anywhere. Just a quick fuck. Not like you cared about that part--they just weren't even being creative in asking.

This man, on the other hand, caused heat to flush in your ears. Made you feel ways you haven't felt since having crushes in high school. Said and did everything that made your mind and body say "yes, just yes." You guys haven't even physically kissed yet and you loved how slow he took this--he saw you for the person you were. He made you remember that maybe romance wasn't actually dead in this day and age.

You bit back a smile--he had called you beautiful-- and typed,

"Hi handsome. I'd love to. I'll bring my favorite sake for you to try. See you later, have a good day too, okay? :)"

Not too long after you sent that, you saw a notification flicker in the upper-right corner of your screen. He hearted your message.

Another notification;

"Yay :)) I will now!!"

The way the giant man didn't even hide his warm excitement did something to your heart. He didn't play games. It made you less wary, unlike more than half of your dating history. To be fair, your friends did vouch for the guy, saying he was such a wholesome sweetheart, but you were still scared. What if it was just a front?

You always gave the nice guys a chance, but they'd turn out to be actual demonic entities in still-human bodies, you were convinced, and try to make you feel crazy for not taking their shit. You tried to do your healing and allow yourself to be vulnerable again, albeit behind a wall of glass first, but this guy was so damn attractive, and that in itself was kind of intimidating. Plus, he was the bravest kind of man out there. A part of the Fire Force.

When he took you out, though, you couldn't help but feel something different about him that set him apart. You felt safe. You felt like you could just be you fully and not have to mask for the first-date formalities. He gave you fucking flowers, complimented the little details of how you styled yourself, complimented your personality, not your body.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere brought you out of your sweet dreamy haze and back to earth. It felt like you were falling in a dream and suddenly awoke, nerves racing when you were supposed to land. It was an uneasy feeling...

And you weren't the only one.

It was quiet. Even with the cafe music playing, it felt uncomfortable.

Then suddenly a hiss sounded.

And afterward came the little gasps. A portion of the ceiling lit up a yellow-orange color, and right below it, the cashier had become an Infernal in the middle of calling out the latte they were handing out.

The smart people ran out the building out of true self-preservation. Some called for the Fire Force. You were...frozen while packing your things, heart pounding as shrieking filled your ears. You were tough and driven, but not prepared for combat or Infernal situations. This wasn't in your line of expertise. You were all just civilians.

The infernal was approaching a woman and her baby, who were farthest from the exit.

Something in you clicked, and just like that you realized, you really didn't give a fuck how afraid you were. Your vision was shaky from the adrenaline and you barely felt your body running as you somehow appeared right behind the Infernal. You opened your water bottle and splashed it right onto the Infernal, making it pause.

Large patches extinguished from the water, hissing louder than dumplings sizzling in oil-coated frying pans.

"RUN!!! Just go!!! Don't worry about me!!" you ordered the woman, who nodded gratefully, very wisely grabbed her car keys, and booked it with her sobbing infant, flashing you an apologetic look.

This was a cashier, one who had a life and seemed so kind, did nothing to deserve this, and had everything taken away in an instant. You took a moment to mourn for the cashier, whose corpse was never given a chance to rest after...well, yeah, its death.

The Infernal that remained did not care. Cutesy little pins -- like the Cinnamaroll and Mitski pins you complimented earlier-- on its burning apron juxtaposed with the flames coming from all orifices of the distorted face. The charred face looked like it was in agony but also like all of its memories were replaced with hellish bloodlust.

Little tendrils of flame suddenly re-appeared from the extinguished portions, and you got goosebumps as you saw its head slowly turn to you.

Its blazing attention was right on you. A searing pain entrapped your shoulders, like burning your scalp with a hair straightener--except this was so, so much worse. You gasped and tried to kick the thing away on impulse, but it was inhumanly fast, and hurled you to the wall. You flew right onto a table and chairs, metal and wood bringing searing pain that was sure to bruise. Somehow you were okay, though.

Those who were still in the cafe tried to fight off the Infernal, but it was wreaking utter havoc. The delicious aroma of roasted coffee beans blended with the acrid scent of singed hair, burning clothes, and no--please, it can't be-- burning skin. The charming little green plants around the cafe were converted into little bonfires.

Ever the greeter, the Infernal was right in front of the entrance, too. Smoke made your eyes feel dry, and there was a sharp pain in your lungs.

_____________________

—PRESENT TIME—

And here you are. You weren't planning for any of this today.

You hold your breath and try to think of what to do. You're trapped with an otherworldly creature that was just a kind person who took your drink order. Who didn't deserve any of this. Your shoulders are somehow not even second-degree burned as if by some miracle by Sol. You can say that the worst injury is a favorite shirt being forever ruined. But others aren't able to say the same.

A man hugging his boyfriend who is badly burned, telling him everything will be ok. A son in tears, screaming at the infernal not to touch his mom.

For a second you feel a fleeting thought. What if you die here?

So far there haven't been any casualties, save for the Infernal, but you're terrified.

You want to live. You want to see..how everything pans out. Because what if it does all work out? What happy experiences does life have in store for you that you have yet to discover?

To have a baby to keep safe, just like that mother, no matter how scary and dark this world has become. You... want to take the risk.

In the fire, the smoke, and the ashes, you tug your blouse over your nose and mouth to hopefully filter some air. Your stinging eyes fill with tears--tears coming from the resolve to actually live.

Slowly, you get your crumpled form back up.

You want to live to maybe even see Mr Hot Fireman.

His bravery. His ability to face death every day. The way he trains every morning, building thick tree trunk arms to carry people, save them. The same arms that brought you into a warm, gentle embrace when you both met outside the restaurant on your first date.

That's right, what would he do?

You gulp the cleanest gulp of air you could through only your mouth, and hoist up a heavy metal chair.

And that's when you charge. It's all or nothing now.

You have to keep this Infernal at bay until the Force arrives.

You swing and aim for the head. It actually makes the creature fall back.

Thank Sol you weren't holding onto the chair, as the metal would have conducted the angry heat from the torrent of flames the creature lets out straight to your hands. You shriek and dodge the attack, just in time. If you can't take flight, at least the adrenaline helps you to fight somewhat.

A white-hot pain wraps around your shin and blindsides you. Your heart drops. No. Not again.

The creature's hand is extended and warped to rope around your lower leg. You've pissed it off.

Just as you think, shit. This might actually be it but at least I tried, the Infernal suddenly lets go and the searing pain leaves, if only slightly.

The creature screeches the most horrid sound you've ever heard, leaving your ears ringing as its eyes face towards the sky.

And then you notice the black gloved hand impaled through the chest of the infernal.

A soft, "Latom" from a young sister's voice trails from behind the dying creature.

Finally, the poor cashier can rest in peace. The Infernal slowly dissipates into thick, black cinders that dissolve into the air, revealing a hulking figure clad in back with glowing blue stripes--who immediately props you up with thick arms you could feel through the heavy uniform.

"Y-Y/n," a deep, gentle voice breathes through the metal grated face shield.

He props up his grated face shield and looks over you, making sure you're not overly hurt.

"Obi?" you reach out for him, your bottom lip trembling. Fuck, you've only seen him twice before this but you need a hug.

And that's just what he gives you.

He holds you tightly, amidst the other survivors being escorted. Nothing can hurt you now, because he is here. Rubbing soothing circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth, dissolving your worries with just a touch. "I'm sorry it took me so long, you're safe now."

You want to diffuse the situation, to cope with humor as you always do. Except...there are no jokes, only every emotion you should've felt in the last fifteen minutes, giving you whiplash all at once. Your throat tightens.

You try to fight the wavering in your voice but he still hears it.

"No, you're g-good, you came so quickly, I thought for a second I was going to die," he's looking into your eyes, and dammit, hot tears are flowing down your face, so as a defense mechanism you smile and laugh, wincing a little at the pain in your ribs from being thrown earlier. "But, at least I got to throw a chair at its face!" you choke out.

His concerned expression breaks into a soft smile as he tenderly wipes away your tears with a rough gloved hand, the same one that punched right through a burning possessed corpse.

This moment alters your brain chemistry forever. Feeling warm, safe, soft under his dark brown gaze. Seeing his pupils are kind of wide as he looks tenderly towards you.

"That's my girl."

My girl. He really just called you his....Your cheeks burn at him saying that, and you turn away, unable to look at him without blushing. Biting your tongue to keep from grinning so hard. It's not lost on him.

You need to change the subject, and fast.

"I, uh, might need to get my things, since they didn't burn thankfully, can I?"

Akitaru chuckles, as if that's so obviously not the answer. "I've got it, Y/n, don't worry about a thing."

Before you can protest, he's carrying you high above the ground princess-style and frees an arm to hook it through your bag. You feel minuscule compared to him, so secure, in his hold. Men don't generally make you feel safe like this. But he? He's made you almost sleepy, and you know it's not just you coming down from the anxiety and tears. You're serene like you just meditated for an hour.

The firefighters are silently gushing about how cute you both look together. The rest of Company 8 knows who you are. Little do you know that their lovesick captain has been gushing about you since your second date, as well as today.

Showing the picture of you to the girls having them squeal about how much they shipped you, Arthur saying you are the Captain's Holy Grail, Vulcan making him a little fan the same day because he said the captain was overheating and overthinking.

They all find it cute, Obi finally finding another person to give him a break from all this chaos in the world. So when he asks if they're okay to handle things for today, they brush off this Infernal incident as small anyways.

"This is nothing, captain. You can trust us to help resolve this today," a young man called Shinra grins adorably with sharp teeth. So finally the man asks to take a damn break, he thinks to himself.

You don't see them exchange excited glances.

"How hurt are you, Y/n?" he asks.

"My shin got burned, my shoulders not so much, got thrown around but nothing's broken," you state simply for him.

He looks over at the burned areas carefully.

"Let's get to the truck."

On your way, you spot the mother you saved, still cradling her baby, who is fast asleep in its teddy bear onesie.

She immediately recognizes you and runs to you without jostling the infant, and you realize how funny it looks with the fireman holding you the same way she's carrying her newborn.

"I know you," she smiles, "you saved me earlier. Fighting tooth and nail with that thing. I really can't thank you enough."

You wave her off. "Anyone would've done it, I'm nothing special!"

She clutches your hands in hers, narrowing her eyes. "Well, no one else did. You were so brave out there. Give yourself credit." She turns to Obi. "She was amazing out there."

You finally meet Obi's gaze. How long was he staring at you with all that love(?) and adoration?

You laugh. "Well, just know that you don't owe me anything, just live with your little baby and be happy. That’s all I wanted."

You all eventually say your goodbyes, and Obi is silently taking your behavior as the greenest flags he's ever seen in a lady.

He sits you down on the edge of the truck's back and climbs in to the cooler near the front. In there he finds two sets of cold compresses.

He lets you feel them. "These good?"

You nod. Before you could grab any, he jerks the compresses away from your grasp. "No, you don't", he places them on you, giving you a sweet yet frustrated look that says "geez, let me take care of you". You chuckle at how he's treating you like a newborn lamb.

"This should do for now. We're going to my home now to get you to recover fully, unless you need me to take you elsewhere," the large man states very matter-of-factly, when you get far away enough from the cafe.

"B-but...what about your heavy uniform?"

His dark eyes lock onto yours warmly. "I train every day, so wearing 100-something pounds in equipment and uniform feels like a windbreaker; I'll be okay, cutie, don't worry."

Well, that was unexpectedly hot. You bite your lip and fidget with his collar. "I know you're very strong, I can tell of course, I just need to be held, without this in the way.”

He nods, warmth filling his body. To him, you are so adorable right now, telling him you need him. And boy, does he want to be there for you. "My condo is actually kind of close to here. I'll hold you the entire night if you need me to."

You both haven't even kissed yet, but he was acting like true husband material. It was making you feel so soft, so gushy, and very warm...admittedly in your nether regions.

You think you should be more shaken from this whole matter, but instead you're getting turned on from your date rescuing you looking so hot in his uniform, that supposedly weighs nothing to him. You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck the negative emotions out of you. Is this unhealthy of a coping mechanism?

"Thank you, I'll definitely need to be held if it's not too much," you hum, resting your head where his chest is.

His chest rumbles through the uniform. "I would do anything for you, Y/n, don't mention it." Your brain buzzes in reaction for the entire fifteen-minute walk it takes to get to his place.

You almost ask him to let you walk when you both enter the building, but his grip on you is tight and comforting. The desire to stay in his arms overrides the urge to move and seem like a strong, independent woman. The receptionist does not question anything and gives a kind smile to the two of you.

He's quiet during the elevator ride. Eyes flitting down to you protectively on occasion, his rage at the fact that an Infernal came so close to you, very readable on his little tense scowl. His jawline clenches and unclenches as he thinks about what would've happened if today went differently, if he was even a few minutes too late. He seems almost scared you’ll dissolve right out of his arms. Being the empath you are, you sense he just might be a little, teeny bit concerned about you.

"We're still on for tonight, right?" you ask, dissolving the tension in his mind.

His gaze softens. "You're still down?"

"Of course I am, you're my hero today," you purr up at him, knowing the gentle giant would probably like to hear that. He absolutely is.

Obi's wine-dark eyes twinkle as a blush creeps on his cheeks. He wants to be your hero everyday.

"That right?"

"Yes, big boy, I know you're worried, but" the elevator opens and he walks out, "I'm fine. Just a few scratches and bruises, my burns are only bad around my shins." You can still grab my ankles, though, you bite hard on the inside of your cheek to distract yourself from your mind that's always in the gutter.

It's hard to help, having this large hunk of a sweet man who saved your life princess-carrying you around town to his place, in 100+ lbs of freaking fireman gear as if it's nothing at all.

"Well, let me take care of you on this date, Y/n, I hope you don't mind homemade ramen."

You gasp. H-homemade?! Like all the ingredients??? Complicated beautiful ramen? You could just kiss him right now.

"Obi, that sounds wonderful, especially for today."

His smile is contagious. He's such a hard-working man, yet he wants to pamper you. This man couldn't get more dream-boaty than this.

He finally sets you down when you are inside the apartment.

It is spacious and clean, with some bits of industrial and rock music-inspired decor.

"Please, makes yourself comfortable. I'll get my first-aid kit and get a good look at wherever you're hurting, if that's alright with you."

You smile and nod, sinking into the most perfect squishy brown leather sofa as any worries you had, melt away.

His helmet and gloves are off as he brings you a cup of water. He smiles at you and you laugh.

"Obi, you've still got that bulky suit on, isn't it hard to move?"

He smirks, heading down the hall. "Not at all."

After a minute or two he reappears, and your breath hitches. Charcoal grey joggers hug his legs and...um..everything, and his black t-shirt is barely stretchy enough to hold his gorgeous arms.

He senses you eyeing him like a piece of meat and a heat creeps down his body. He clears his throat, pretending not to notice.

"Y/n, do you uh..have a way to take off your long sleeve shirt?"

Thank goodness you had a couple layers on underneath this.

"O-oh, yeah, allow me," you shyly avoid eye contact and unbutton your blouse, feeling the warmth of his gaze boring into you. He swallows thickly, and you don't hear it as blood rushes to your own ears. His eyes feel so heavy on you.

You strip of your shirt and are left wearing a flimsy little tank and bra. He notices how your nipples poke out, and he tries to think of something boring or unpleasant to keep from getting hard in front of you.

Luckily for him, you don't seem to be paying attention. You tug the shirt up to look at your ribs. There's a bruise, but not as bad as you thought it was. You press on it and wince.

"Silly, don't do that," Obi chuckles rather stiffly.

"It hurts here."

"Hahah, oh really? I had no clue that a dark spot would sting when you jab at it, Y/n."

"Okay smartass, you know what?" You laugh a little and wince again at your ribs reminding you meanly of the getting thrown incident.

His face is back to being serious as he looks over your injuries.

"I hope you don't need to be in urgent care and instead told me you were okay," he's anxious at the thought.

You laugh at how concerned he really is. "No, I'm just tender in some spots, no bone injuries, no organ injuries, promise."

His eyebrow quirks as he kneels in front of you, applying cool aloe vera salve on your minor burns. "Your skin is an organ. Liar."

Your face heats up as his rough hands tug your foot on his lap and he gently pulls up your wide pant legs to examine the burns on your shin.

"Y-you know what I mean, Obi." He's so silly when he tries to be stern with you.

He hums, bandaging the affected areas and doing a once-over of your body. You feel a little bold, and inclined to thank him for everything in a way that can resonate.

"Psst." Midnight eyes dart back to yours.

You beckon him closer, and his hands rest on either side of you as he props himself up to lean his ear close to you.

You whisper, "thank you for this," and move your hand from projecting your whisper to cupping his sharp jaw. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek while it's still turned to you. His skin is so smooth and hot to the touch.

You can tell he's now smiling from the way his cheek dimples, and he turns to you, eyes crinkling and pupils blowing wider as he gazes at you. You're so, so close to him.

"You're welcome, but just one critique," he drawls softly, his body heat, the scent of him in his cozy sweats utterly delectable. A gargantuan hand of his moves up to cover all the way around the back of your head.

"Oh? And what would that be?" you ask, tilting your head sweetly.

His nose touches yours, and you can't stop thinking about how you feel warm, so warm.

"You missed."

You both close the distance, and your lips lock hotly, cozily, perfectly. Your head spins and it feels like forever until he parts the kiss.

"Been wanting to do that to you," he whispers.

"Me too."

Your lips are back on his as you tug him back to you, and you feel him smile into the kiss, your hands trailing to the nape of his thick neck, feeling the fuzz of his fade. You're trying so hard not to devour each other, but it's really really hard for both of you to control yourselves. You gasp for air a little, and he pulls away to look at you, a love-dizzy grin on his face. You sigh at the loss of contact, giving him puppy eyes that make his heart throb.

"If I kiss you again, I won't be able to stop, and I'll forgo the need to cook you something to eat, which would be very bad of me," he murmurs sweetly, as he kisses the top of your head, hooking his arms around your legs and hoisting you up.

"I hope you can forgive me for being so mean and making us dinner," he finishes as he sets you down for the third time today.

You giggle. "Fair enough." You admire how his muscles are practically ripping out of his shirt as he turns his back to you to open the fridge. He takes out chasu meat he's marinated, noodles, green onions, dried seaweed, naruto, and eggs. Starts slicing the meat and simmering it with some onions, garlic, ginger, and broth. Boiling noodles. even the noodles look handmade, you think.

It starts to smell so good in the kitchen as you talk about funny work stories, about hobbies you enjoy, about music.

"Wait, you like rock, too?" his eyes light up, "no way!"

"Yes, way!" you smile, as you both talk about bands you enjoy. Music from before the cataclysm. Music with soul, with feeling, before most of the world burned down.

If not for the feeling of the bandages as you unconsciously trace a hand over your arm, you almost would have forgotten how today started.

"You know, not just anyone could make me forget about almost dying, but somehow you have," you ponder, eyes glittering up at him as you sip your water.

"That's how I feel about you, too, Y/n," he says. You can tell he means it. "Let's sit. Dinner's ready."

You hop down from the counter and grab a beautifully plated bowl of ramen. "This looks immaculate," you gush.

"Not nearly as good as the Lieutenant's cooking, I can tell you that much," he chuckles, cracking open a bottle of sake.

"We'll have the sake I mentioned at my place next time," you promise.

"Yes, I want to try it! I'm sure it's better than this one," he pours you a little sake glass.

"Pshh, nah."

The food and sake are both delicious. The raven-haired man may downplay it, but he's so good at cooking. Which, a man that cooks? Just one more reason why he's literally so enchanting. He's almost too good to be true.

_____________________________________________

"You pat your stomach , satisfied. "That... was beautiful," you say with a grin, "but holy shit am I stuffed."

Obi hums. "And you're amazing, lady! Almost ate more ramen than me. Almost. But no one can beat me.” He winks. “Let's watch a show, yeah?" You both cuddle up on the couch, your head resting on his chest as one of the best pre-disaster shows --The Great British Bake-Off-- plays.

Both of you are creating you own commentary on the show, and his thick arm is curled around your waist. You play with his other heavy forearm, feeling the veins coiled around its girth and squeezing his muscles.

“Y/n,” he says, breaking a few moments of silence.

You hum in response, and he smiles at you picking up his forearm like it’s the heaviest thing in the world, and hugging it in your arms. He blushes as he feels your soft tits against him and almost loses focus on what he's about to say.

“Am I holding you enough like I promised you I would?” He’s genuinely concerned, peachy lips pursed in thought. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how he’s such a sweet man. You want to show him just how much you appreciate everything about him and his kind heart.

You move a little bit to straddle him and hold his face, accidentally turning the poor man on way too much, flustering him.

“…Obi, you’re doing amazing. I feel so comfortable, so safe. You’re so good to me, so strong, and I just know you’re such a good captain.” Captain. Fuck, everything you’re doing and saying is making heat rush downstairs to his aching cock. Maybe he wants to hear you say that one more time.

“Yeah? Is that so, pretty?” he says through slightly-gritted teeth.

You sense something in the shine of his eyes, laying beneath the waters, almost like a ravenous crocodile waiting to devour what sinks in. The hysterically strong man smells of almost danger, like he absolutely does bite. But he's trying, key word trying, to push it all under layers upon layers of sweet frosting, to no avail.

His hands holding you on your lower back rub circles on your soft exposed skin, and your hips twitch involuntarily to your sensitive nerves being caressed.

The dark-haired man picks up on your little innocent movement. His cock fucking jumps at your hips slightly grinding on him, and his nostrils flare a bit to catch his breath.

“Yes captain, I think you should keep holding me as you are,” you answer him, a hand of yours feeling the planes of his pecs. His heart is beating rapid-fire, like he's about to have a heart attack under you.

“Ah, so I should keep holding you just like this,” he says, drunk on lust, his hands moving down to the globes of your ass, naughty thumbs now choosing a new place to circle—the crease your hips make where they meet with the plush of your thighs as they’re wrapped around his torso.

The skin of your hips is so sensitive to his electrifying touch, playing with the bands of your panties, massaging you and making you feel like squirming. You whimper and your hips jerk back to get away from the burst of stimulation, only to bump into something big and hard.

Is that.....

It jump against the curves of your ass, to answer your question. You gasp, and curl a fist in his shirt. His rings of dark brown have disappeared into the darkness of his blown out pupils and he smirks.

He tightens his grip, and you feel his abs through his shirt as you scramble for balance.

“I’m waiting for your answer, sweetheart,” he’s snarling now, barely able to contain himself from wrecking you. You take a second to remember what he's asking.

“Y-yes, you’re holding me—,” his hands get ever closer to your core—“just right, fuck,” you squirm, causing you to grind a bit more on his hardened cock.

Heat creeps through your ears as he leans in to whisper, “Don’t stop moving baby, you’re making your captain feel so good right now, being so tempting all fucking day.”

“Yes captain,” you moan—to which he growls—you shiver and shift your hips to grind right on top of his hard member, heartbeat in your pussy as you feel the shape of his cock, how utterly perfect it is, right down to the mushroom tip…holy shit he’s thick. He helps guide you and your clit rubs right on him through way too many layers of fabric.

You whine and bite your lip, hand still on his washboard abs for stability.

“You like what you feel, love?” he asks, and you think yes, you do enjoy what you feel, with both your palms and under your soaking pussy. A bead of sweat is on his forehead from how aroused he is and how warm the air is around you both.

“Yes daddy,” you test the waters, he's asking so many questions, and it's getting harder and harder to answer him each time. Suddenly a gasp is pulled out of you when he flips the two of you over. His hands tease your waistband, as he looks you deeply in the eyes, a sharp predatory gaze making you clench around nothing.

“Say that again.” Arousal drips from his voice; it's so deep it's almost hard to make out what he's saying.

“Yes daddy, need you in me, please,” you repeat, not caring about how needy you sound. His ears perk up like a hungry wolf’s at your desperate, pathetic pleas.

“Good fucking girl.” He yanks down your pants and panties in one go, eyes never leaving you so he can watch your face as he sinks a finger in, a hand on your hips to hold you down.

"Could smell how wet you've been all damn evening, see how obviously you've wanted me all day," he pumps the thick finger in you, curling it towards your pelvis.

He groans and you mewl at how good just one of his fingers feels. Holy fuck, his finger is so big and rough as it thrusts slowly into you.

“Shit you’re so wet, baby...and it's all for me, yeah, gorgeous?” He spreads your wetness around, admiring how wet you sound, look, and feel. Your hips buck, and he slaps your clit.

You keen as he puts two fingers into your wet heat, reveling in how you grip around him. Like you don’t want him to ever leave you. Like you’re begging to be filled.

You're just thinking about how two of his fingers is thicker than three of yours when you try to stuff yourself. Just how thick is his cock, you wonder? You want it, and you want it to hurt.

Your arms are wrapped around his head, and you pull him closer so you both kiss. The kiss is steamed and ravenous, and your gasps are the perfect opportunity for his tongue to enter your mouth and find yours.

His knees hold your legs open and keep you from squirming as the heel of his hand rubs against your puffy clit. He breaks the kiss to hear your breathy moans better, as your arousal drips onto the couch.

“Tight little thing, making such a mess for me, you like my fingers? Yeah?” His hot breath fans over your ear as he talks dirty to you, every single word turning you on more and more. You spread your legs wider because you want him so badly.

“Mmh! Yes daddy, feels so good! Please, need you please!” you beg. He doesn’t need you to ask him any more than that. He quickly pulls his sweatpants and boxers down, and his cock springs out, slapping his shirt, spreading a bit of precum in its wake.

His cock is dribbling and delicious. Perfect, just as it felt when you were grinding on top of it. Girthy and long, with some black, neatly trimmed stubble above it, topped with a peachy pink drooling tip. Veins to match his forearms snake around his cock, especially the beautiful underside, as he pumps it, eyeing you like you're his favorite dessert. Your eyes are wide at how gorgeous his cock is, like the rest of his delicious, fine self. You need to see more of him though.

You tug on his shirt, and he catches your drift, chest swelling with pride at feeling so desired by the woman of his dreams. You both help each other to get undressed, ripping clothes off and tossing them to the floor.

He’s leaning over you, absolutely rippling in pretty muscles, and you admire all of the hard work visible in his physique.

“Your staring is making me blush, Y/n,” he breaks the lustful silence, coyly rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, so he's shy now?

“Yeah, Well, this is all for me, can’t help but stare,” your hands trace his firm muscles, nails scratching his skin lightly, making his cock jump visibly.

“I train every day for this, to build a body only one special lady can touch, it's all for you,” he lines himself up with your entrance, your thighs on top of his lap.

"'M a lucky lady," you shift impatiently, trying to get him inside you as soon as possible.

"But I'm much luckier," he rasps, slapping his cock against your clit, making you cry out.

He coats himself in your sweet juices, high on how delicious your arousal smells in the air. He swallows, trying to keep himself from going completely in with one thrust.

Your mouth makes a little “o” shape as he eases in the first couple of inches, stretching you out deliciously with his fat tip. The sting feels divine.

“Obiii~” you whine, and you feel every ridge of his cock as he pulls out a little, and then drags back in slowly, then out, then impales you all the way in til he bottoms out.

The stretch is unbelievable despite him going slow, and he gives you a few moments to adjust to his size. You can’t believe his big horse cock fit, but that's because you're made just for him, and he will make it fit every fucking time.

“Y/n…shit, you feel amazing,” he pants, and he rubs your clit a little to get you to relax a little.

“I'm so fucking full, fuck me Obi,” you whine, needing to feel him move inside you, which he does, and you add, “‘m all yours, please,” so that all sanity leaves the giant man above you.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, and he starts pounding into you, his thick cock dragging along your walls making you cry and beg and scratch his back. Your legs feel like they're stretched and spread so wide to make room for the big man who's pistoning himself inside you. Your hands cannot possibly touch as your arms are wrapped around his back, and his largeness and vastness turns you on all the more.

He nibbles on your neck possessively as he folds you like the luckiest lawn chair alive, hitting spots no finger of yours could ever reach, making you see stars.

You’re babbling little “yes’s” and begging over and over in a melody to his ears, coaxing him on towards ramming into your sloppy little pussy, fat breeder balls slapping into your cunt, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Pleasure is making you feel dumb, and you want his cock inside you where it belongs, forever and ever.

“Obi,” you struggle to mewl his name, and he looks at you, clenching his jaw not to come right then and there at the adorable, hazed over look in your eyes.

“Yes, Princess?” He rumbles, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back. Then he hits it again. Your nails claw his back like kitty scratches. And again. You squeal, sinking your teeth into his big ol chest, And again. Your body rocks with each of his powerful thrusts.

You’re drunk off his cock hitting your spot over and over, and he eats up all the little noises you make.

"Princess?" He holds your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him with your poor, teary eyes.

“K-Kiss… me,” you whine when you’re finally able to form words with your dumb little brain, and he happily obliges. Anything for his special girl. You’re devouring each other’s faces, tongues wrestling, eating each other’s moans.

You bite on his bottom lip, and he smiles into the kiss. “Dirty girl,” he rasps lowly, hips smacking into yours in one particularly sharp thrust, making you wail. Your legs wrap around him so he fucks you extra deep, as you kiss extra deep, your hands looking to hold onto something, anything, and settle to hook onto his shoulders. He curses under his breath, wanting to cum inside you just like this. But he can't. Because he was irresponsible enough to forget a condom anyways. you take him out of his thoughts with your weak babbling.

“You’re,” kiss, “so,” you both kiss again, “fucking,” *kiss* “big,” you whimper in utter bliss, a small bit of drool dripping from your mouth.

“Sorry, who’s big?” he nips meanly on your neck, and your legs and walls clench around him in sync at his bite, making him grunt loudly.

“You, captain Obi,” you whimper, and he moans beautifully, only hitting your overstimulated spongy spot now, battering into it with his huge cock.

You're close to finishing as most of your vision is filled with static, and he can tell by how sporadically you’re fluttering around him, threatening to milk him for all he's got. His rough pubes are brushing against your sensitive clit just right, and your toes curl extra tight as you can barely handle the pleasure.

Then, the cherry on top. One of his hands goes up to wrap around your throat and lightly squeezes, making you extra lightheaded and he sweetly says,

“Go on, angel, cum for me.”

Your vision goes white as you close your eyes tightly, your back arching into him as he slowly and deeply thrusts into you through your orgasm, your mouth open but not producing any sound.

When you come back to earth, it takes him a few more thrusts into your clenching heat before he forces himself to pull out, spilling his hot, sticky seed onto your stomach. His moans are the hottest sounds you've ever heard.

You pant and look at each other in the eyes as you both come down from your highs, and he smiles down at you. You smile back, sleepily, head buzzing, and he tells you he’ll be right back.

He wipes a warm, wet towel on your abdomen to clean you off. You twitch when he wipes your still sensitive pussy, and giggle as he folds the cum rag neatly once he's cleaned himself off.

Then you both lay there, on cloud nine, warming each other up on his couch, in utter bliss. He lays on top of you, his weight better than any weighted blanket or body pillow, sharp face smooshed between your boobs.

“Like I said, you can have me as many times as you want, any time you want me, I am at your service,” he reminds you as you snuggle, the sweet smell of sex still in the air.

“It’s gonna be a long night then,” you whisper, and he smiles, already hardening again. ♡

___________________________________________

A/N: thank you for reading 💌 after fucking all night they had a sleepover and y/n wears his big tee to sleep. <33 as they should.

#[✏️] speaking in tongues #demon papí draws #fire force smut #obi akitaru smut #obi akitaru x reader #fire force imagines #obi akitaru #akitaru obi #anime fanfic #x fem reader

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mermaidsirennikita · 5 months ago

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hiiiiiii!!! i trust your book recs with my life (thank u for introducing me to sierra simone) but i was wondering if you had any recs for books that are big on acts of service? just like the fmc being taken care of, even though yes, she can do it herself lol. i think maybe you made a list with this trope awhile ago but now i cant find it!

Omg, thank you so much--and so glad you're enjoying Sierra! She's just... such a gem.

(publishing for rec purposes, I hope that's okay)

Off the top of my head, I would recommend several Lisa Kleypas books--Seduce Me at Sunrise is the big one that comes to mind because the heroine WAS sick for a long time, so the hero is used to taking care of her even after she gets better (to her detriment, because now he won't fuck her lmao). But yeah, Kev carries Win around, he bathes her (I mean, that's also something Kleypas loves to write lol--a long hot bath after the heroine gets that thing POUNDED) he's often fretting over her... even when she really would rather he didn't!

If you're open to paranormal romance, Immortals After Dark has heroes who are biiiig on acts of service, but especially the werewolves. Because the wolves see their fated mates as very literally their religion. If their mate dies, they are like, biologically programmed to kill themselves. So, YEAH! ACTS OF SERVICE ARE BIG!

I'd say her most approachable werewolf book, which is really a pretty approachable book in the series for newbies in general, is Pleasure of a Dark Prince. Garreth has been waiting for find his mate for FOREVER, he's kind of like a party boy, a little bit less... insane... than a lot of IAD heroes. Lucia is this very serious, cool, self-sufficient heroine who holds herself at arm's length from most people, especially men. So she's a bit miffed when this giant dude comes in and tries to do everything for her, lol. There's an entire scene where he's like, in a cage in her basement (look it's complicated) and she's super amped up because despite her best efforts, she is very attracted to him. So she starts masturbating and he can SMELL HER FROM THE BASEMENT so he's like, rattling the bars all "LET ME OUT!!!!!!! I NEED TO HELP!!!!!!"

The Footman by S.M. LaViolette comes to mind. It's initially a revenge plot, but the hero kind of spirals out of control (falls in love with her) and his grovel involves a lot of like, taking care of her and insisting that he's near her and fretting over her (even though she wants NOTHING to do with him by that point, which make him even more delightfully pathetic). Melissa and The Vicar also has some really good acts of service--Magnus just wants to taker care of Melissa, and Melissa has a hard time accepting care.

An Earl to Remember by Stacy Reid is a genderflipped historical retelling of Overboard; so the heroine is a chef on the hero's yacht, and he fires her before he ends up falling overboard. She finds him and he has no memory, so she ends up telling him he's her husband (naturally). As he has no memory, he's a bit shook by the fact that he doesn't actually know how to do manual labor, but he picks it up quickly enough and ends up doing a lot of literal work around her house while she watches lustfully (and guiltily).

I mean, obviously Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath is huge on this in the "I'm a strong single mother" realm, largely in that Jack Dodger is bopping around Olivia's life being like, the first truly hands-on father figure her son has ever had. But I also really LOOOOOVE the sickbed scene in this book.... When he's like, dumping her in an ice bath... forcing her to let him take care of her... Carrying her around that big ass house like she's a sack of potatoes...

OOOOOH Devil's Bride by Stephanie Laurens and Scandal's Bride both have this in SPADES. Honestly, a lot of Cynster books have this because Cynster men HAVE THE CONQUEROR'S BLOOD!!! But these two especially. Devil is big on serving Honoria in an effort to convince her that he is in fact right and she is in fact supposed to be his wife. Scandal is with Catriona, a woman who is extremely independent and used to running shit on her own, but he's like "well damn girl don't you need someone to at least like, haul shit around your property?"

One of my favorite moments in that book does include her slipping and falling on a patch of ice in the middle of berating him while he smoothly catches her, lmao.

A lot of Maiden Lane books gives this vibe to me, but Sweetest Scoundrel probably the most? Because Eve is so used to being strong and aloof, and Asa kind of forces her to let him take care of her. In so many ways.

For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale is a classic in this sense, as Ruck is very literally a knight sworn to Melanthe. And initially he's not thrilled about it, tbh, because he's realized that she's a pretty morally dark gray woman who's not the lady fair he thought she was. But then it becomes more of a true service.

A Holly Jolly Ever After by Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy has this for sure. I mean, the hero is a bit bumbling about it at first but that's a part of his ARC. Learning how to back his feelings with true competence, lol.

Reel by Kennedy Ryan! In this one, an up and coming actress is chosen by a famous director to star in his magnum opus, and inevitably they begin falling in love. What he doesn't know is that she has lupus, so she ends up getting sick a lot, which leads to some friction initially. But dude. He takes SUCH good care of her. Oh my god. It's amazing.

Love, Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood definitely has some good acts of service moments, especially because the heroine is diabetic and the hero is big on like... respectfully looking out for her. There's a scene with almonds that I particularly love.

The Mackenzie brother books are generally really good with this, though for me, The Duke's Perfect Wife takes the cake. I mean, Hart is just... HE'S JUST............................

Shoutout to the scene in the book prior where he tucks like, probably the 1800s version of 50K into Eleanor's bodice all "this is the money I know your stupid dad needs" and she's like "MY STUPID DAD DOESN'T NEED MONEY AND ALSO WE HAVEN'T SPOKEN IN LIKE NINE YEARS???"

but her dad is stupid and does need the money so

If you're open to fantasy romance, The Sea King by C.L. Wilson has a hero who comes from a matriarchal race of ocean people and his sole purpose in life is to guard, care for, and pleasure his mate. Who he's decided is the heroine. (There is sexual assault on the page in this book, as a heads up--not hero on heroine.)

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs

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fixfoxnox · 2 years ago

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tell me more about just fucking whatever then man :) infodump away!

Luke's Giant COD AU List (feel free to request!!)

Warnings: NSFW, Dark Themes (Kidnapping, Dub-con, prostitution)

Compound AU (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

I think most of you guys are familiar with this one, but just in case you aren't:

Roach's father was extremely paranoid/anti-government and spread that mindset to his mother. Before Roach was born they locked their entire family (his parents and three older brothers) into their family farm that his father had turned into a survivalist compound. Roach was born and raised here, but at the age of 18 he escaped and went to his Aunt, Kate Laswell, for help. He ends up joining the military and eventually Laswell introduces him to the 141 when they need someone they can trust for a more secretive mission.

It's Ghost/Roach/Soap (as you'll soon realize most of these are lmao). And despite the premise its actually way cuter/fluffier than it sounds as its essentially just a bunch of himbo/bamf Roach oneshots rolled together.

Anima Au (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

Another one a lot of you might be familiar with!

This world has little creatures called Anima who are essentially super powered protectors who are born with the purpose of protecting their human. Roach is Ghost's mischievous Anima who has taken a liking to one of his team mates, Soap. Its all good though, because Ghost also has a thing for Soap.

So we get mischievous feral horny Roach who does mischievous feral horny guy things like trying to jump Soap and Ghosts bones at any and all opportunities. This has like 5 parts out and the next one will be straight up smut so

Ultranationalist Roach (Roach/Everyone)

Roach is betrayed by Shadow Company and left for dead. He survives, but gets dishonorably discharged from the military for trying to speak out against the men who tried to kill him. When he's discharged, he and several other men who left the military following him, form the American Ultranationalist party.

After an assassination attempt that leaves Roach and Jackson the only two remaining leaders of the party alive, the ultranationalists quickly become more violent to get to their goals and are soon branded terrorists, with the 141 being sent to bring down Roach.

Despite the fact that the men are trying to kill him, Roach decides that they're all rather gorgeous, and he wouldn't mind having them around, so he devises a plan to slowly kidnap the team and form a little harem for himself, starting with one Vladimir Makarov.

Essentially just mischievous feral horny Roach but now x everyone dnfnfnnf

Assassin! Roach aka Pyre (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

A spin off of SiTO that explores what could have happened if Roach ran into Shadow Company before he ever met the 141. This actually has been around for a bit, as it was one of the early ideas that I'd considered for SiTO.

Essentially he and Jackson get tasked to work with Shadow company and, inevitably, the two men are betrayed. They're both shot and the Shadows attempt to burn them, but Roach is not willing to die so easily this time. He manages to pull both himself and Jackson out of the fire so that they can take refuge in a little village nearby.

The two men are considered KIA and, now both having nearly died again and knowing that the other remembers, decide that they're going to take a different route when it comes to handling things this time. Roach becomes an Assassin and Jackson becomes his guy in the chair as they slowly begin killing bad people, working their way up to bigger and bigger targets with their eventual goal being the assassination of Vladimir Makarov.

Sad kinda depressing fic, but will be filled with lots of bamf Roach so its kinda worth it.

Dragon AU (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

Soap and Ghost are bonded dragons who feel like they are missing something from their bond. They eventually find it in the prince of a nearby kingdom, Roach. They "kidnap" him and bring him back to their land to join their relationship. Roach is chill with it cause Soap and Ghost are good cuddlers and they let him roam around the woods.

However, word of Roach being taken spreads around and Soap and Ghost are forced to defend him against endless numbers of princes and knights coming to try to rescue him. Not only that, but a black scaled dragon in the woods near their castle has taken a liking to their bonded and keeps trying to steal him!

Luckily for them, they also have plenty of time to be fluffy cute boyfriends and occasionally get visits from their various dragon friends! This whole AU is really just cute fantasy/monster vibes sjfjfjfj

Monster AU (SoapRoach) (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

My take on the monster AU's that have slightly taken over the Fandom. Ghost is a very very powerful hybrid (offspring of a demon and vampire) who has just been brought on to the 141, a specialized military team filled only with monsters. He's typically used to the people that he works with being scared shitless of him, so he isn't prepared in the slightest for the 141.

There is Price and Gaz. Price almost takes on a fatherly role to him, the older reaper showing no sign of fear of him at all. In fact, the older man keeps occasionally slipping him an extra blood bag with his meals, constantly checking in to make sure he's eating properly. Gaz is a rather unassuming nymph who, despite not looking like much, can be absolutely terrifying when he wants to. Which is usually when someone fucks with the plants that he's growing on base. He doesn't seem to even realize how dangerous Ghost is, constantly asking him questions about the little plant he keeps in his room and occasionally giving unprompted advice on how to care for it better.

But possibly the most confusing are the two overexcited werewolves on the team. Soap and Roach are attached at the hip, likely to be found wrestling or running around like excited puppies just as often as they can be found trying to get in each other's pants wherever the fancy takes them. Ghost tries to steer clear of the two, their overly happy and excitable nature making him want to keep away. Unfortunately for him, its like the two men have become somehow attached to him, almost always following him around like lost puppies, begging for his attention.

He was expecting fear from his team, not two over grown dogs to decide he was their new owner! Starts SoapRoach and turns into Soap/Roach/Gost when they invite Ghost into their relationship. Also might make Roach trans here cause KAJDJFNCNNF WEREWOLF SOAP EATING HIM OUT AHGGGGH

The NikPrice A/B/O Fic (Nikolai/Price)

Listen...I love a/b/o fics man, okay

Price is an unmated omega who's best friend just happens to be an unmated alpha. Some people would call that a recipe for disaster, but considering he and Nikolai only get to see each other on short visits or for work, neither of them have had to worry about their instincts taking over and forcing feelings (that may or may not already exist) to the surface. Or at least, that's what Price thought.

What he doesn't realize is that Nikolai doesn't exactly see things the same way. Everyone but Price can see that the Alpha has practically already claimed him. From checking Price for a mating bite when they meet up again, to throuroughly scenting the man, and even defending him against any overly interested Alpha's that are brave or stupid enough to get close to what obviously already belongs to someone.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for Price, that pretending not to have feelings for his best friend is all going to come tumbling down with one poorly timed heat and one very very grabby alpha. Or how Price and Nikolai officially became mates. In my mind it takes place with a young Price and Nikolai, but could also work with their Canon selves.

The Horny NikPrice Au (Nikolai/Price)

Honestlu the a/b/o nikprice au could also be called this dnfnfnjfjf don't judge me okay I want to see Price get absolutely pounded by a strong Russian man leave me alone

The plot of this one is really simple tbh, Price and Nikolai meet and Nikolai decides right off the bat that he likes Price so he just kinda claims him as his own. Price has zero idea whats going on, but he's not going to question why his hot new Russian friend keeps shoving him against random objects to ravish him.

Aka Nikolai looks at Price and goes "dibs" and it takes Price way too long to realize he's in a relationship. Takes place over their entire relationship cause Nik never stops wanting him so-

Cartel! Rudy AU (Alejandro/Rodolfo)

Okay so like...Rudy isn't from Las Almas originally, but he visits the town once and likes it and decides he's going to take it over (like a true gay)

So Alejandro, the Colonel of the Vaqueros is chasing after Valeria and the cartel that has slowly taken over Las Almas. The city is suffering under the cartel's control, but Alejandro is determined to save the town and help out as much as he can. After one particularly bad run from the cartel that left several houses in ruins and people dead, Alejandro and his men go into town to help rebuild a bit.

When they get there, they keep hearing whispers about the "The sweet rich man" who is apparently helping with the rebuilding process and using some of his money to help with the process. Alejandro eventually meets him and he's absolutely blown away by the angelic man who introduces himself as Rodolfo Parra.

Rudy is completely taken by Alejandro and the two work side by side together for the rest of the day, subtly flirting until a sleek black sports car rolls up and a wealthy looking man steps out calling for Rudy. Rudy seems upset about leaving, but begrudgingly explains to Alejandro that the man is his husband and he has to go.

Alejandro is heart broken that Rudy is married, but he begins to see more and more of the man around Las Almas and every time he see's him he can't help but to flirt. He feels bad, but at the same time, Rodolfo certainly doesn't seem to be in a happy marriage, and he can't be too upset when he finally gets to taste the other man, pressing him up against the wall of a back alley to devour him before bringing him back to a hotel to ravish him.

As Alejandro and Rudy conduct their affair, Alejandro begins to become suspicious of Rodolfo's husband. The control of the cartel in the area is shifting, a new power coming into play thats seemed to coincide with Rodolfo and his husband's arrival in the town. Of course, like everyone else, Alejandro suspects Rudy's husband, none the wiser to the fact that the marriage between Rudy and his "husband" is nothing more than a smoke screen to hide the true person behind taking control of the local cartel.

This is long but basically Alejandro is so in love with Rodolfo that he completely misses that his new boyfriend is actually the head of the cartel lmao

Prostitute! Roach (Makarov/Roach) (Roach/Ghost)

It says its Makarov/Roach on the tin, but later down the line it becomes GhostRoach

Essentially Roach is a prostitute working under Valeria when the cartel decides to strike a deal with the Ultranationalists. Makarov and Yuri come down to Las Almas to work out the deal and Makarov is offered a night with one of Valeria's people free. He chooses Roach and very quickly gets addicted to the younger man, stupidly falling in love with a prostitute.

He eventually essentially "buys" Roach from Valeria and brings him back to Russia with him where Roach becomes even more important to him. Roach is essentially the most important person in Makarov's life and he would die and kill for the man, something he proves over and over. It's mostly fine, because none of his enemies know about it.

That is until Yuri betrays him and he tries and fails to kill the man. Yuri joins the 141 and, when the team are trying to find something they can use against Makarov, he suggests Roach. This prompts the 141 to essentially kidnap Roach who they place under the protection of Ghost until they've gotten what they wanted from Makarov.

Ghost and Roach fall for each other during this time (for various reasons) and it becomes a ghostroach story as the 141 try to take down Makarov and Makarov tries to get Roach back all while Roach is torn between his feelings for a terrorist and his feelings for Ghost.

The Pirate AU (Ghost/Roach/Soap)

Self indulgence in an au because I put Roach in dresses and let him get railed lmao (also might make him a trans man here too for the fun of it cause whats better than letting a little trans guy get railed on a pirate ship)

Ghost and Soap are the most fearsome pirates on the seas, known for robbing and pillaging any merchant ships that they set their eyes on. Kidnapping, ransoms, robbery, and just general high seas hijinks are normal for them, and any person setting out on the Sea knows that if you see their flag flying high, the only thing you can do is turn away and hope you escaped their notice.

Roach is the son of a wealthy aristocrat who is being sent to join one of his uncles for the summer. Unfortunately that means crossing the sea. He's sent with several guards surrounding him, but unfortunately guards mean nothing to Soap and Ghost when they spot a wealthy aristocrats ship. So the ship starts getting attacked and boarded.

The Captain, in an attempt to keep Roach from getting kidnapped, dresses him up as a woman, hoping it will keep Ghost and Soap from recognizing and taking him. What they don't expect is for Soap and Ghost to not care that they don't recognize Roach, because they can tell that the "woman" they're looking at is an aristocrat and they know they can just get the name of the family from one of the men/the ship. So they kidnap Roach anyways.

Now Roach is stuck on a ship with two really hot pirates who are definitely going to realize that he isn't a woman sooner or later (sooner lmao) and when they do, well who knows what they'll make him do? (They're gonna fuck him sjfjdjjdjfjf)

Anyways then Roach falls in love with life at sea and doesn't want to go home, even when his family pays the ransom which results in some angst because Soap and Ghost think that the best thing/ what he wants is to go home even though they're all in love so they send him home.

Then later they come back and kidnap him again lol

The Camboy/YouTube AU

You guys might be picking up on the horny nature of many of these AUs sjfjfjjfnfhfhfjhfh

Soap and Ghost are a super popular couples channel on YouTube. They're known for their fun dynamic of Emo + Sunshine and just generally how in love they are. Everyone knows them, including one dear fan of theirs, Roach. Roach watches them because he thinks they're fun and he has a fat fucking crush on both of them.

Roach himself is a gaming youtuber known for playing fps games (he plays call of duty guys), but beyond that he's also known for his NSFW content that he started for fun self confidence stuff. He posts pictures and videos, but also essentially does camboy work because he's grown fond of it and the money he makes from it is nothing to sneeze at.

During one of his streams he starts getting a shit ton of donations and like requests from this one account who are dropping like insane amounts of money on him. That same account also shows up in his gaming streams to start donating a shit ton of money too.

Anyways he doesn't know that the account is actually Soap and Ghost who found him randomly one night but now they're accidentally kinda falling for him and accidentally essentially becoming his sugar daddies.

This also has some jealousy and some Roach/Jackson cause Jackson is his bff who streams with him and also occasionally joins him on his nsfw streams/content

Yeah uhhhh I have no excuse for this one ajdbbdbdjdjdj

Some Quick Notes On Requests:

Feel free to request any of these au's and any ship with these au's!

The main ship for the au is listed in the parentheses, however just because that is the ship doesn't mean you can't request others/non-canon ships within the au

So let's say you like the Monster Au but want to see like Roach/Gaz instead of Roach/Soap/Ghost, feel free to request it! I'm more than willing to write non-canon within these au's

All of these Au's can be requested for either fluff, something spicier, or somewhere in the middle (think like what the Ultranationalist Roach Au or Anima Au has been thus far), as well as angst

If I add more AU's, they'll be added to this list, but they'll be posted about separately as well so people can see about them!

Ships I Won't Write:

Gaz/Alex - I'm sorry I just don't ship them enough to write them :/

Konig/Soap/Ghost - I don't have a problem with this ship, its just not for me, probably because I'm not really about Konig like that

Price/Graves - I'm sorry its just not for me, I really can't figure out a dynamic between these two that wouldn't be Price literally looking at him like 😒🤢 because Graves is just like that sbdjfjhfjf. Not saying its a bad ship, its just not for me.

Ships I will Tentatively Write For:

Soap/Ghost - They will get moved to my won't write list if they start taking over my ask box. I like them together, but I also have beef with some of their fans (fellow Roach stans get me 😔) and generally speaking I like their dynamic better when Roach is involved

Konig/Roach or Konig/Roach/Ghost/Soap - both are fine, however I'm still not super confident in how I write Konig with like anyone other than Horangi, so be aware it may not turn out right

Ships I will Absolutely Write For:

Any form of Ghost/Roach, Roach/Soap, Ghost/Roach/Soap

Roach x Anyone really

Price x Anyone (minus Graves obvi)

Really anything else you guys can think of probably dbfbfjjfjf

#gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #ghostroach #ghostroachsoap #alerudy #nikprice #soaproach #soapghost #ghost x roach #soap x roach #ghost x soap #thoughts with luke #you asked luke #call of duty

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thebirdygrace · 26 days ago

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Death, and Other Dark Desires, Ch. 2

Chapter 2

“What the hell do you mean above our station?” Riker demanded loudly, his heated stare boring into the timid liaison from headquarters like a hot poker slowly pushing through flesh. The wisp-like man shrunk beneath Riker’s glare, clutching his PADD and mumbling something unintelligible.

“Will—” Captain Picard said calmly, trying to appease his first mate, but in truth, he too was a little more than frustrated at the situation's implications. “Mr. Thompson,” he continued, straining to maintain a level and diplomatic tone, “I think I can speak for my crew when I say our first-hand experience with Lore gives us a unique perspective on the reality and gravity of our situation. The fact that Starfleet is being less than forthcoming with its investigation into how Lore was reactivated is concerning, to say the least. There’s already been one death on account of this—accident. I do hope Starfleet intends to hold all parties accountable.” He punctuated the last phrase harshly as he leaned back in the oversized beige chair behind the desk in his ready room, pulling the hem of his uniform coat down with a flare of indignancy.

“Captain Picard,” Mr. Thompson said tentatively, “I’m very sorry, but that’s all they’ve told me. Honestly.” He stood slowly, inching away from the desk and the men, desperately wanting nothing more than to flee. “Admiral Dominguez was very adamant that the crew of the Enterprise’s priority mission is tracking Lore down and securing the craft and his daughter. Headquarters is handling the storage facility investigation.” He added with forced reassurance.

“Securing? Gee, that sounds really compassionate.” Riker said with a glower.

Mr. Thompson chuckled uneasily. Having finally reached what he considered a polite enough distance, he quickly excused himself from the captain’s ready room, turned on his heels, and rushed out with an eager bounce in his step.

Captain Picard’s head sunk with the weight of his frustrations; he rested his forehead against the tips of his fingers and tried to massage away the tension building up behind his eyes. He let out a long, tight sigh before continuing. “I don’t like this, Will.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Will said as he slung his long leg over the small beige office chair across from the captain. “What are you thinking?”

“They gave us direct orders to find the ship and the girl Will,” the captain said with a slight hint of admonishment in his tone as he stood, straightening his coat for a moment before adding with a mischievous smile, “but that doesn’t preclude us from also looking into the storage facility.”

Riker smiled widely as the captain walked to the replicator, ordering his usual tea, Earl Gray, hot, before looking back at his number one. “What do you think, Number One? Do you buy any of what he was telling us?”

“A possible storage facility mix-up?” He asked incredulously. “Not a goddamn word. Someone there deliberately reactivated him. We both know exactly where that switch is. There’s not a chance in hell this was an accident.”

Picard brought the clear cup of hot liquid to his face, blowing gently. “I tend to agree with you.” He sighed before taking a long, slow sip, savoring the warmth as it filled his chest. Nothing could compare to the real thing; a good cup of traditional Earl Gray could cure many things, in his opinion, but the recipe in the replicator had undoubtedly improved over the years. He would need an Olympian-size pool of Earl Gray before this was over, he thought bitterly for a moment. “If someone from within Starfleet is working with him,” he trailed off, but Riker understood, nodding in agreement. “Assemble a small team, limited to senior officers only. I trust your discretion as to who you include, Number One. I'd like to play this one close to the cuff.”

“Understood,” Riker affirmed.

“For now, I’d like an update on the information Geordi found this morning. Hopefully, this trail is more than just a wild goose chase.”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll check in with Geordi now and report back to you when I have an update.” He said, standing.

“Thank you, Number One. Dismissed.”

Riker nodded and proceeded out in search of La Forge and his team. Captain Picard sat back behind his desk, turned on his computer, and continued with the research he’d been doing before Mr. Thompson arrived. Sorting through the mass of open files, he pulled up the report from the warehouse where Lore was initially located before being transferred to the storage facility that had apparently, accidentally, and egregiously—in his opinion—reactivated a dangerous android. He scanned the documents line for line, searching for anything explaining why and who had approved this transfer, but the deeper he dove, the more questions he found. Not helping the matter was the lack of publicly available information on the secondary facility Lore was transferred to; it seemed notably peculiar to the captain that all information regarding the facility would need to be classified. Picard couldn’t even find its blueprints in Starfleet’s archives. Still, he wasn’t without allies, and if the integrity of Starfleet was at risk, that was worth calling in a few favors.

Riker rounded the corner toward engineering, his long, swift stride closing the distance with ease as his mind continued to dwell in his growing anger. This righteous indignation flared in his chest with rabid intensity as he continued to mull over Mr. Thompson’s less-than-convincing narrative, unable to stop himself, riled to action by the thought that the values and integrity of the Federation were once again under siege from the inside.

“Geordi,” he greeted his friend warmly as he approached the workstation where Geordi was hunched over, locked in an intense staring contest with the screen. “Tell me something good.” Riker urged him hopefully when Geordi stood.

“Oh, we’ve got something good, alright!” Geordi flashed his signature grin, wide and friendly, with just a hint of mischief. “Hey, Data.” He called over Riker’s shoulder.

Data looked up from the panel he’d been working on. He was currently crouched down, over in the far-left corner of the engine room where he’d had to pull nearly half the workstation apart to get to the conduits he needed, but clean-up never bothered him—in fact, if he were human, he might even call it soothing. “Commander.” He greeted Riker.

“Data,” Riker smiled, “I didn’t see you there.”

“Data and I have been working on zeroing in on that byproduct trail I told you about earlier.” Geordi walked over to stand near Data, adjusting his visor as he reviewed the information on the screen above the workstation before turning back to Riker and pointing at one of the many fluctuating graphs. “We’ve narrowed the field down to follow only the artificial carbon particles. Data’s rerouting some of the power conduits right now, but once he’s done, we should be able to do a wide-scale scan of at least a few hundred light-years.”

“And you’re sure this trail isn’t manufactured?”

“It is doubtful,” Data said as he finished replacing the unit he was working on and stood to look at the information on the screen with the other officers. They watched for a moment as it began to scroll faster, the graphs fluctuating wildly as the new conduits kicked in. “Unlike the warp trails Lore left, this trail results from how the doctor elected to route the jump engine through the primary systems.”

“You see,” Geordi jumped in excitedly, “because of that, even when they are traveling at warp, gases are still flowing through parts of the jump engine—”

“Meaning it’s always leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow.” Riker finished.

“Exactly!” Geordi responded.

“It is likely Lore is unaware of this as it does not appear from his research that Dr. Carlin was aware of it either.”

“Good. That should give us some time. How about you, Data? How are you handling all this? I don’t imagine it’s easy after what occurred with him and the borg a few years ago.”

“Your concern is appreciated, though unwarranted, Commander,” Data replied. “I have yet to install my emotion chip and thus remain unaffected by my brother’s return.”

“Oh, come on, Data,” Geordi encouraged, “isn’t it even a little weird knowing he’s back, and you might have to confront him again?”

Data took a moment to process, tilting his head slightly before finally replying. “It is an… odd sensation to once again consider the idea of seeing Lore.”

Riker and Geordi shared a brief, knowing smile. “Well,” Riker sighed as he stretched his neck slowly from side to side, “I have to report to the captain and check in with the station security officer again. Let me know as soon as we’re ready to go.” He turned to leave but quickly did an about-face for one last item of importance. “Oh, and I’m calling a meeting with a few other senior officers at 1900 hours in the main conference room,” he kept his voice low while speaking, his brows raised in knowing expectation, “need to know only.”

“Understood.” Data and Geordi replied in unison.

#star trek #tw noncon #smut #star trek fanfiction #fanfic #star trek tng #star trek voyager #lore star trek #tw forced marriage #star trek the next generation #data soong #geordi la forge #cw noncon

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billdecker · 1 year ago

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So it's after 6am and I've had barely any sleep because my mind is racing so here's why my party went to shit. Hopefully getting this out somewhere will make me feel better. I'm sorry this is so long.

It started off feeling a bit ahhhh because my dress was a scratchy sensory nightmare. I also wore make-up. I never wear make-up because I hate how it feels on my skin so I was already feeling a bit horrible. So i changed out of my dress and felt a bit better.

Also, I invited my sister and she never showed up. I asked her to just pop in for an hour because she deserves a break (my eldest niece is going through some terrible puberty emotional stuff; been expelled from school; sister has a very misogynistic bf who does nothing to help her in the house so she's balancing everything and close to breakdown herself). So I felt upset about that but got over it and I completely understood why. It's a good job she didn't come along after all.

Things changed when alcohol happened (obvs). We had a couple of drinks and were singing along to some angry 90s girly pop and I felt really happy. I decided I didn't want any more drink for a while which BFF didn't like and kept trying to pressure me to drink more. I think that's when I started to kinda disconnect??

Anyway, she then spent wayyyyy over an hour (probably two hours tbh) just talking to my husband about her boyfriend. Telling D her bf's entire life story including really intimate details. Her bf is a musician in his spare time and he's currently working on an album. She wanted to end my playlist so we could listen to his youtube back catalogue of black metal songs. D is an expert on dealing with people who have drunk a lot (sadly; his dad was an alcoholic) so he was kinda handling all of this while I was sitting there feeling like a billy no mates at my own party. Honestly, she didn't look at me once. I'm sitting on the other settee on the other side of the room like that fucking John Travolta staring around meme.

Then when she did involve me (like, over an hour later) she starts comments about mine and D's intimate life and she's showing me all of these photos she's taken of me and saying how sexy I look in them all and I have to change them to my profile pic. I did not look great in them. I hated every single photo. Then she grabs the glowstick dick (this is a long story, it's a tradition that we make a dick out of glowsticks when we meet up) and starts rubbing it against me telling me to do stuff to the dick and pretend it's D, and if I don't wanna pretend it's D then pretend it's a couple of the men I've talked to online. I used to chat to blokes online for a bit of fun. D knew about it and never had a problem with it. It was all consensual fun stuff. I told her in confidence and didn't expect it to be brought up. I was just slowly feeling humiliated. By this point she's drunk a bottle and a half of rum (I KNOW. I only got the second bottle in bc I'd had the first for a while, sealed, but was worried about it) and I've had three drinks that I've slowly sipped over five or so hours so I'm still very sober. But I could feel myself spiralling. Like, my social battery is running out and I can't socially mask any longer so I said I was going to sit in the bedroom for five minutes because it's cooler and I'm gonna take off my make-up.

And I knew right then I just won't be able to go for the tattoo on Thursday. I don't have enough social energy left to do it. My mood has only started to get better after getting pierced. I know my own limits and I know I can't do it. Thankfully my other BFF is on the other end of Whatsapp. She's wise and really helps me to put things in a logic way when I'm spiralling. So she said to just be firm and say I'm going to bed because I'm tired and I need some rest.

So when I calmed down I did that and I thought I'd be honest about not being able to go to get the tattoo. Then things just got worse. She started saying I have to go and get it; that she, D, and my dad will practically drag me outside to do it. That we can make a whole day of it by visiting the park and then the pub (this is literally the worst thing I can do). And I'm trying to be firm and assertive and not mask and lay down my boundaries. I said no, I can't do it. I know a couple of days before I need to do something if I can do it or not. Like when I've been to the dentist or I got pierced, I might have been an anxious wreck but I knew deep down inside that I could do it. I know I can't do this. My mind won't change. She started arguing that I'll feel different on Thursday and I'm letting myself down (the other worst thing to say to me). She starts saying we should get some more rum tomorrow and have the party again because I've ended it early and it's not a proper party. Also that if I'm still drunk I'll get through the tattoo easier (wtf no). And I'm no fun, and I've been planning this for a year only to end it early by basically being a boring old fart.

By this point, I'm crying. I'm sitting there feeling like I'm being told off by my mum. She's saying all the stuff my mum would when I'd have a meltdown about having to go to family parties or if I just didn't want to go sit outside. BFF is completely ratarsed just having a go at me. She hasn't even noticed I'm crying. So I just stood and announced I was going to bed. I texted D from the bedroom to ask him if he could tidy up all of the buffet food and decorations. I lay on the bed and just silently sobbed until I kinda passed out.

I woke up when D came to bed and then I cried some more. I asked if she'd said anything about the tattoo or me coming to bed and she said she wanted to hatch a plan with him to force me to go outside. Then she started to talk more about her bf and their life and stuff that made D feel very uncomfortable. I'm going to have to do something nice for D or buy him something nice as a thank you for dealing with it all like an absolute pro. I cried into him and then had a really good chat with my other BFF about everything which made me feel better. I thought maybe I'd feel better after some sleep and I do, but in the way that it's just given me even more clarity that I definitely can go do on Thursday. My mood is still terrible and all I want to do is cry.

Tbh I just wanna stay in my room. She's here til Friday and I don't know how I'm gonna face her. D is going to cancel the tattoo for me later today and say I have covid. I might reschedule at some point and get a different tattoo just for me to celebrate my birthday. I'm so mentally drained I don't know how I'm going to get through my actual birthday on Saturday. I wanted to visit my parents but I can't even see myself leaving the flat. I feel crushed tbh. I hadn't seen her for five years. She hasn't changed. She's always been this loud and gone on and on about the men she's seeing (on my wedding day she spent 12 hours on myspace chatting to a boy she fancied, so she has form) but I think since realising I'm potentially autistic, my understanding of my behaviours has changed so I have boundaries now to prevent further mental breakdowns being worse in the long run. So I've really changed. I'm not just willingly going along with shit. I don't want to mask and I don't want to people please.

If you read this, thank you. She's here til Friday and I don't know how I'm gonna get through it because now I just wanna stay in bed, watch comfort TV, and do some work on my writing. I'm 40 years old in three days time. I'm too old for this sort of stuff to be happening. This stuff is shit that should happen 20 years ago. I just wanted a cute day where I listened to all of my favourite songs, had a beige buffet, and it was all good vibes.

Thank you all for your very sweet comments too. I kept coming to check on here to give my anxious hands something to do and reading them really made me smile while all of this stuff was going down. I have some of the best followers xxxx

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silverfoxstole · 1 year ago

Text

I came across some old interviews and things I'd typed up yonks ago the other day, so I thought you lot might be interested in reading them. 😁

THE JENNIFER SELWAY INTERVIEW

DAILY EXPRESS 11TH OCTOBER 2001

“IT’S NICE TO HAVE BROTHERS. WE STAND IN FOR EACH OTHER ON ACTING JOBS AND IN THE PAST WE HAVE EVEN SWAPPED GIRLFRIENDS”

Paul McGann was burgled a couple of weeks ago.

“Oh, no,” I coo, like you do. “It was just stuff,” he says casually, sounding like an old hippy, which is not unfeasible. After all, he’s 41 now, which surprises me when I think about it. 41! I had assumed he was younger, something to do with those boyish, studenty looks – something to do with being immortalised in Withnail and I.

The really bad thing about the raid on his home in Bristol was that the thieves made off with his wife Annie’s computer, and she (a writer) lost several weeks worth of work.

“There are some scumbags in the world,” says Paul mildly. “They came through the front door at night. The kids and I were in the house asleep. Though apparently – I asked the policeman about this – the real rush hour for burglaries is two o’clock in the afternoon. It makes sense when you think about it. You wouldn’t look twice at someone hanging about the house at that time. There are always people round our house.”

“Like who?”

“Mates, musicians…you know.”

No, I don’t know really. It sounds lovely. Mates and musicians chilling out at your house all afternoon, the twang of an acoustic guitar, probably joss sticks and instant coffee.

The funny thing about Paul McGann is that it’s difficult to tell whether he is really very intense and energetic or as laid back and ordinary blokey as he makes out. Take his face, which can look somewhat grey and severe one moment and then all young and smiley the next. He can switch from headmaster to naughtiest boy in the class by just lifting the corners of his mouth.

He is the second oldest of the McGann brothers, the Liverpudlian acting family. No one (I’ve enquired round the office about this) can ever remember how many there are though most people seem to throw in a few names like Mike [eh?], Joe and Steve.

Paul – he ought to be reliable on this one – says there are five McGann siblings including one sister. Mike [She means Joe] is the eldest by just 16 months. Amazingly, there don’t seem to have been any rifts or feuds over the years. Paul thinks that being part of a clan can be a positive advantage to an actor. “It’s true that if people don’t see you on screen for a while they forget about you. But if you’re a McGann you get four times the opportunity of being seen. We are pretty interchangeable.”

He pauses for a moment and studies my face for a reaction. “You think I’m joking, don’t you? But it’s true. We’ve stood in for each other on acting jobs. The last time was a couple of years ago and no one was any the wiser.” He says he can’t remember what TV show it was. But I have the suspicion that this may be a diplomatic memory lapse.

Boys will be boys. And being so close in age the McGanns have also shared, not only jobs, but girlfriends. “I don’t remember us exactly passing girls around. It was more a case of the girls taking themselves around under their own steam,” explains Paul.

Quite so. “Women love the McGanns,” said Richard E Grant, Paul’s co-star in Withnail and I, adding, “while my admirers are mostly old men in trenchcoats.”

Withnail and I, directed by Bruce Robinson in 1987, is one of those films that brings a smile to people’s faces at the mere mention of the title. A low-budget surprise hit, McGann and Grant played a couple of out-of-work actors living in majestic squalor who spend the entire film veering from one bender to the next.

“It’s one of those films which just cheers people up. It’s always a laugh if someone comes up to me and talks about it. I’m always glad to meet Withnail fans. The funny thing about Richard is that you can’t think of a better drunk act than him but in fact he is allergic to alcohol and never drinks. He can’t metabolise it. But you know almost everyone has had their Withnail era, lived in a terrible flat, endured the squalor, we’ve all met that drug dealer, we all stayed up too late. It’s great to have been in something that has got into folklore in the way that Withnail has.”

Not all of McGann’s projects have been so happy. In fact he has been dogged by the most awful bad luck. In the mid-eighties he was very much the bright young hope of British TV, starring on BBC1 as First World War soldier Percy Toplis in Alan Bleasdale’s controversial Monocled Mutineer. A move to Hollywood seemed on the cards and off he went in 1987 to appear in Steven Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun, though most of his screen time disappeared on the cutting room floor. A similar fate awaited his role in Alien 3.

And there was more bad luck to come, including a car crash in Spain in 1991. Three years later he was in the Ukraine filming Sharpe for ITV. “We had a day off and were out on the beach playing football when I ruptured my knee. It was horrible, it swelled up like a balloon and I just wanted my mum. I tried to soldier on but in the end I had to be flown back to London.”

Sean Bean took over the coveted role of the dashing Sharpe and McGann found himself embroiled in a protracted court case concerning his contractual obligations. “Let’s just say that none of us was aware how badly injured I was. It was tough because I needed the dough at the time – and there would have been a lot of it – and that would have got us out of a domestic hole. It sent me into a bit of a spin, to be honest.” McGann’s next doomed project was as Doctor Who in the Hollywood-produced version which became the centre of another lawsuit between the BBC and a consortium of backers. The film, made in 1996, was a flop.

“I can’t regret it. It was a laugh. If it had gone ahead I would have been committed to five or six years in the US and I’d have had to move the family there. I didn’t want to be Dr Who at first – it’s a bit like taking over the responsibility of becoming the Pope – and I thought it was a silly idea. After all, I’m a po-faced dramatic actor.”

Last year McGann starred in Fish, BBC’s off-beat legal drama which was pulled because of dismal audiences. Recently he filmed The Biographer, playing Andrew Morton at the time when he was writing his celebrated book about Princess Diana. The film has yet to be released.

“I’m glad I did it. The scripts might have been salacious and awful but they weren’t. You don’t see Diana at all – just a fleeting glance from a distance with her back to us.”

Now, finger crossed, he’s back in another new BBC drama, Sweet Revenge, playing Patrick Vine, an “expert” in revenge whose clients want more than the old tried-and-tested methods involving “cutting up clothes and dead fish”.

McGann himself has toyed with the idea of revenge in the past. In 1996 [Actually 1994] he was spotted kissing Catherine Zeta Jones and became the subject of intense media interest. That Catherine was an old friend and the kiss no more than a mwah-mwah peck did not prevent the McGanns’ lives being made a misery. “It caused my wife Annie and I – and Catherine – huge distress. It’s very upsetting to be at the centre of that kind of attention. And did I want revenge? Too right I did. I wanted to get out there and throttle someone. Rightly or wrongly, I chose to do nothing. I didn’t want to dignify it by making any kind of statement. In the end the whole thing petered out because it was a non-story.”

Together for 20 years, Paul and Annie have two sons – Joe, 12, and Jake, 10. Annie studied acting at the Bristol Old Vic and their move from London happened over a long period of time. “We were in our own Withnail phase and felt we had to rejuvenate and get out of London, so we used to go to Bristol for weekends. We created a kind of bolt hole and eventually just forgot to leave. Then, when Annie was first pregnant we had to be grown up and buy a house. It was at that time in the late eighties when houses were a ridiculous price. That’s the real reason we stayed on in Bristol – we just couldn’t afford to live in London.”

He lives in Bristol almost by accident and he is an actor almost by accident.

“I never wanted to be an actor. I never went to Stratford-upon-Avon, or kept scrapbooks or had pictures of – I don’t know – Alan Howard on my bedroom walls. I would have liked to have been a musician. It was almost obligatory growing up in Liverpool – you kick a ball around and play in a band. But what I really wanted was to be a track and field athlete. I would have been perfectly satisfied with that – an athletic career or even teaching sport. But I didn’t make the Olympics which I wanted to do. It just didn’t happen. It was something to do with being 16 and highly sexed like all 16-year-olds and discovering the inside of the bar. So in the end I just slipped into the acting.”

McGann may have the ability to go with the flow but it’s clear he is not always so easy going. “I’m mellowing a bit. But there are times when I’ve wound myself up in knots, and in egotistical terms I think I was a bit of a bastard. I have thought about revenge in childish moments and temperamentally if I was going to get back at anyone I’d do it long after the event. That’s not nice, is it? I don’t forget but I’m reaching the stage where I can forgive. I’ve been a very jealous person as well. I’ve been jealous of my wife, jealous of my brothers and I’ve been jealous of people I’ve never met. Anyone who says they haven’t felt the same is a liar.

“I’ve reached the slow realisation that no one is really looking at me. You know how when you’re a kid you think you’re the centre of everyone’s attention? Discovering you’re not is refreshing, especially for an actor.”

McGann’s mellowing process is the result of hard experience. And he seems remarkably sanguine about his woeful luck. And old (well, middle-aged) hippy that he is, he quotes Sanskrit at me.

“You find what you should be doing through your mistakes. I really believe that. And so much depends on luck. There’s a Sanskrit saying: ‘Where you stumble, there your treasure is’. Do you like that? It’s good, isn’t it?”

#paul mcgann #interviews #how did this woman manage to write this without checking some simple facts?#poor mark whose name is apparently difficult to get right #headdesks #mcgann monday

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