#short legged frog

[herpsandbirds]

Pope's Short-legged Frog (Brachytarsophrys popei), refuses to cooperate with the photographer, family Megophryidae, Guandong, China

photograph by Adrian Ng

[tazzmanian-devil]

heres my entry for the “donnies shitty terrible girlfriend” competition. wait what do you mean its not a competition

@nerves-nebula said i can do whatever i want forever so i decided to make amphibian propaganda. if amphibian doesnt win ill...ill...i dont know, throw up maybe. she doesnt have a mouth but she CAN beam words into your brain, or something.

[evilneo]

love when me and Frog are cofronting¹ because its just like "Arrrrrtttieeeeee we need to dress more stylishlyyyyy </3 :(" all day

¹when we arent both having an episode lol

[knight-of-ashes]

I have successfully acquired sweaters for the winter and now I think it's time to restock my flannels

[lovebugism]

Hi! Could I pls request a Steve x shy!reader drabble? Maybe they’re a bit of a bookworm and they have a meet cute at a library or bookstore or something ☺️ I love your fics, and I hope you’re having a good day! 💛

i've been working on this wip for ages but i loved this request too much not to finish! thanks for being patient with me anon!

summary: steve hopeless romantic harrington meets shy!reader at a bookstore and fluffy awkwardness ensues (meet cute, strangers to lovers-ish, fluff, 2.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Five hours go by like minutes, tucked away in the back of the library — your own little corner of the world. 

Because all your spare cash went to groceries and good food (and the newest Margaret Atwood novel just dropped), you hide in the back of the bookstore and get lost in the nostalgic earthy scent of the thick pages you’ve been waiting ages to read. 

You sit between the dystopian and gothic fiction aisles, back propped against the former with your knees folded to your chest, and speed-read as much as you can before closing.

The in-store café offers complimentary coffee and bagels. It’s lukewarm and a little cardboard-y, but it’s fuel nonetheless. You only get up once to use the bathroom and stretch your stiff limbs. Other than that very brief break, you’re relatively unbothered — until page 196, anyway.

“Where are the porno mags?” a male voice wonders from a few aisles down. It’s not the first voice you’ve heard all day, but it’s certainly the closest.

A feminine voice follows, nearer now. “There’s no porn, dingus. I was just saying that so you’d drive me here.”

“…That’s so fucked up.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“No, actually. I won’t. This might be the end of our friendship, now that I think about it.”

Their conversation draws closer and closer to you in time with their nearing footsteps. You figure they must be looking for a different section — certainly not the one you’ve had to yourself all day — but then they turn the corner of the aisle and stop short when they find you sitting there.

“Oh,” a pretty girl hums as she stares down at you, rouge mouth forming a softly pouted ‘o’ shape. 

Her hair is a sandy color, like a beach, and it’s chopped at her shoulders. She wears a pair of slacks and suspenders over an oversized button-up. She looks like a character from a book you wish you could write. 

She smiles down at you, a tad bit awkwardly. “Hello…”

“Shit— ” you curse, scrambling to get your legs out of the aisle. Your face burns as you bring your knees back to your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” she shrugs and walks on by you. 

A pretty boy follows.

His hair is a really specific shade of brown — like chocolate syrup mixed with honey. It’s pushed back over his forehead, messy with intention. A few strands hang over his thick brows like they’re meant to be there. He’s got a layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw that’s a shade lighter than his actual hair. 

His wide eyes are a similar chocolate-syrup-honey color.

He’s almost annoyingly pretty. The kind of pretty that seems unfair.

“Don’t apologize to her,” the pretty boy jokes with a lopsided smile. “She’s a total bully.”

The pretty girl interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. And stop bothering her, dingus— she’s obviously trying to read.”

You breathe out an awkward laugh through your nose. 

You don’t want them to think you’re actually annoyed, but you don’t have the words to tell them that. You have no idea what to say to them, actually. They’re obviously far cooler than you are, and the notion almost threatens you.

The pretty boy doesn’t follow his pretty friend. He lets her roam the aisle, obviously in search of something, and leans against the gothic fiction section across from you.

“So, uh… What are you reading?” he asks.

You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, lest the words get stuck in your throat and make you sound like Kermit the Frog. You flash him the dystopic, renaissance painting-esque cover with a tightlipped smile.

“Handmaid’s Tale,” he reads with a squint, then nods. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s not,” the pretty girl scoffs. She thumbs through her own copy of the book that she plucked from the shelf. “It’s the one I was telling you about on the way over.”

The pretty boy’s face screws up in disgust. “Oh. The one with gross men?”

“The one with the gross men.”

He turns back to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I take it back. Not fun.”

You smile wordlessly in response.

“He’s Steve, by the way,” the pretty girl says to you, nodding to the pretty boy. “I figured if he’s gonna keep weirdly hovering over you, you should probably know his name—”

“I’m not hovering!”

“—You can call him dingus if you want. I’m Robin.”

“Hi,” you greet, quiet and mousy.

“Do you come around here often?” the boy — Steve — wonders, bushy brows pinched and burly arms crossed over his chest. “I feel like I’ve seen you before—”

“Ugh. Stop flirting with her.”

“I’m asking a question!”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile and your gaze back to your book. 

They argue like a married couple. You wonder how long they’ve been together — six months or six years?

“Sorry about him. He’s not usually this annoying,” Robin quips with a playful twinkle in her deep ocean eye. She slams the book closed with a ringed handand walks back towards you. She pushes Steve ahead and away from you in the process. “Alright, I got the goods. Let’s go before they close.”

Your eyes widen as you look down at your wrist. 

Ten minutes until eight o’clock. 

You turn to the book once more and find that you’re about a hundred pages shy from the end of it. You tend to read like a maniac if you’re focused enough, but there’s no way you’re finishing it before closing.

“Shit…”

“You okay?” Steve asks, still lingering at the very end of the aisle, though Robin has already left for check-out.

You rise and straighten out your clothes — the very un-special sweatshirt and baggy jeans duo you’d changed into after work. It’s not unlike the navy blue henley and similarly colored denim he’s got on, but you don’t look nearly as pretty as he does.

“Yeah,” you shrug, not quite meeting his gaze as you return the book that feels like it only fits in your hands. “I just— I didn’t realize how late it was.”

You don’t expect to see Steve looking so concerned when you turn back to him. His brows are furrowed, honey eyes glinting in question. “You’re not getting it? You looked like you were almost done.”

“Oh, I don’t— I can’t…” you stammer then trail off, fidgeting awkwardly ahead of him. 

You don’t want this pretty boy’s first impression of you to be that you’re completely and utterly broke. Even if this is the last you ever see of him, you’ll only be remembered as that one girl from the bookstore who couldn’t buy herself anything. 

“I figured I could just come buy tomorrow and finish it…”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, then.”

“You, too,” you murmur with a tightlipped smile, eager to get away from a moment you don’t feel very deserving of. 

Out of every girl this pretty boy could’ve chosen, why did it have to be the one in the very back of the bookstore who was too poor to get anything other than a free coffee and bagel? 

You chuck both in the bin as you head towards the exit.

The sun has almost finished setting when you leave — mostly disappeared over the skyline, but painting the sky a deep lavender shade unique to the twilight hour. You stand at the crosswalk — the man on the speaker shouting “wait!” at your side — as you anticipate the orange hand across the street to turn into a white stick figure.

“I told you she’d still be here,” a familiar voice sounds from a few paces behind you, mostly drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. A louder “hey!” follows. You only think the voice might be calling for you until it comes closer. 

“Hey!” It comes again, louder now.

You look over your shoulder and find Steve from the Bookstore striding towards you. 

Both happy and confused to see him, your wavering smile is paired with a pair of furrowed brows. “Hey…”

“Sorry, you just— you left this.”

When your eyes manage to flit away from his sculpted face — which you just noticed looks eerily similar to Michelangelo’s David — you find that he’s holding a book in his hands. Handmaid’s Tale. The same copy you were reading, dog-eared just like you left it.

Your contorted features never falter. “I didn’t…” you trail off with the shake of your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t buy that.”

“No, I know,” Steve shrugs with a crooked grin. “I did.”

You think he might be implying he bought it for you, but then you realize that’s crazy, because why would he do that for you? That’s the sort of thing that happens to girls in Brontë novels, not to you.

“Youdid?” you echo like an idiot because it’s all you can think to say.

“Yeah. ‘Cause, you know, you looked pretty interested in it and everything…”

“But you didn’t have to… You didn’t have to buy it for me—”

“It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I mean, it’ll save you the extra trip down here tomorrow, right?”

You meet his confident grin with a trembling one. “I can’t take it…”

“Well, if you don’t take it, that means I have to keep it, and—”

“He’s pretty much illiterate,” Robin calls from a little ways behind him.

She’s waiting by a pretty maroon car. It looks like a luxury model of some kind, shiny like it’s fresh off the lot. She leans against it like it’s hers, but Steve’s got the keys in his hand — the one not holding the book he bought for you.

“…I was gonna say I haven’t read anything since junior year of high school, but sure,” he concedes with a shrug. His eyes sparkle down at you— or maybe it’s just the street lamps flickering on. Either way, you feel your stomach whirling. He waves the book at you. “Take it. You’ll actually read it.”

“But…” you trail off, eyes flickering over to Robin. You step closer to Steve and lean in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Girlfriend?” the boy repeats with pinched brows. He goes soft with realization a second later, then starts to laugh. “No. Robin, she’s— No. She’s not really my type.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer with wide eyes. 

If cool, pretty girls aren’t his type, then there’s no way in hell you are. 

Slightly comforted by his assurances, when he motions the book to you again, you take it. 

“Well, thank you, Steve. That’s… That’s really nice.”

He shrugs again. “’S no big deal. Really.”

“But I feel a little bad,” you confess quietly, peeking at him from beneath your lashes while you fidget with the book in your anxious hands. “I feel like I should give you something in return, or, I don’t know, like—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve assures with the shake of his head. He swipes a hand through the chocolate-honey locks and flashes you a smile that borders on shy. “But if you wanted to go out for coffee or something sometime, then I’d be willing to call it even.”

Your cheeks burn. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, or if you even can. A quiet smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you nod. “Coffee sounds good,” you answer sheepishly.

“Cool,” Steve replies coolly, like he isn’t totally beaming down at you. “Then, just… call me whenever you’re free.”

“Oh, I don’t— I don’t have your number.”

His sneakers scuff against the sidewalk as he walks backwards to his car. He just nods at you, smiling gently as he argues, “Yeah, you do.”

Your brows furrow in confusion — because you most certainly don’t. He was a stranger to you a little more than ten minutes ago. You have no reason to have his number. 

Realization settles over you like pinpricks down your spine, butterflies in your belly. 

You open the front cover of the book and find several numbers written down at the very bottom of the cover page.

Call me when you finish, the note reads in half-legible chicken scratch. I’m not really a book guy, but I could probably hear you talk about them all day.

He signs off with his name, number, and a sloppy smiley face. 

You don’t realize you’re beaming until you already are. 

When you look back up at Steve, you find him standing at the open driver’s side door, already smiling back at you.

[risuola]

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 ▶ a collection of tracks about friendship, trust and love

PLAYLIST CONTAINS: college!au, roommates, curseless, friends to lovers, polyamorous relationship, nsfw topics — please read warnings to each piece, reader discretion is advised

09:11 ▶ ONE BEDROOM? — short memory about how you found yourself sharing a bed with two of your best friends. // wc. 916

22:38 ▶ MOM ISSUES — late night talks, cuddles and lots of theatrics. that's what living with your boys mean, but your mom seems to see it a little differently. // wc. 800

06:51 ▶ COCOONED — one of those lazy mornings when you wake up trapped in a tangle of hands and legs. // wc. 655

14:08 ▶ BOUNDARIES — day when Suguru entered the shower with you. // wc. 1385

17:03 ▶ BRUTALLY HONEST — when Satoru asked you for a rather unusual favor. // wc. 934, suggestive

07:03 ▶ EARLY MORNINGS AND STOLEN CUPS — nothing better than the first cup of coffee in the morning. // wc. 572

21:58 ▶ BOYFRIENDS — two is better than one. // wc. 845

19:16 ▶ NEEDY AND SHAMELESS — Satoru was needy and couldn't deal with it himself. // wc. 2585, nsfw

16:48 ▶ CATORU — stealing Suguru's clothes just feels natural, but thing is — his hoodies are black... and Satoru's hair is white. // wc. 1079

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams @hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog @minimorale @lansy-4 @dancer545 @lordbugs @tojislittleprincesss @minniepresents @dorky-birdie @domainexpansionmypants @shuuji71

to be added to taglist let me know in the comments! ▼

have an idea for a situation in their story? let me know in ask box!

to see the newest posts, check 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 hashtag!

▼▼▼

[cobaltperun]

Genius - All I Want

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Next part

Word count: 3k

-All I want is a place to call my own, to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone-

There was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, though lonely sometimes.

“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, close to midnight.

At least you didn’t have to go on foot.

That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided. You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on.

Why did you suddenly decide to come back? To this small village in Tennessee? You weren’t sure, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe you wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.

The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with your friend. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.

As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it. The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.

~X~

The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.

Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.

Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment, she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.

~X~

You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.

It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents. They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until you started going to school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your motorbike jacket as makeshift cover.

The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.

As you looked at the books you noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children? You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,

~X~

Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer.

“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document.

“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times.

The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”

You nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up with your copies of the documents and the things your were given in hand.

“Oh, and welcome back,” vice principal told you.

She knew your parents, as they were very active in the community while they still lived here. It was the connections they still had that allowed you to make such an abrupt decision and transfer on such a short notice.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you still found it a bit awkward when people much older than you acted friendly toward you because of your parents. You understood, but you also felt they only saw your parents’ child, and not you yourself.

“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor justified your feelings on the matter.

You just chuckled lightly at that. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.

You and your parents had a good relationship, you loved them, they loved you. You often talked to them over the phone, and you texted at least one of them almost daily. You didn’t see much of them though, you wanted independence and they were more than willing to give you a chance to experience life on your own, all the while making sure you knew you could turn to them if you ever needed. And you were more than happy with that.

You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.

Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.

“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.

“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.

You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?”

“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.

“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.

“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.

~X~

The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to the though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.

“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.

“Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from he girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.

It couldn’t be… Right?

Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.

Even if it was, well, you had half a year to come across her again.

Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in school, in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.

“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.

You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.

You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.

“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.

The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”

You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”

You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.

“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, now named Boris, was reading out loud.

The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!”

You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.

~X~

Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes. You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.

“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.

Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four? Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.

She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her dark long hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions. As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.

“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.” She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up at least over a coffee or tea or something.

A/N: Well, here's the start of the next story. Enjoy! Also... Taglist? Yes? No?

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Royal Rivalries !! ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x Fem!Zeus!Reader Synopsis: home alone with your prince Luke, but you needed to shower.. Tag(s): Royal AU, suggestive ASF, possibly most devious thing ive written and its not even crazy bai Word Count: 2248

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt2

A sunny day when your father isn't home is always bound to be a good day. Normally when he's home, he prefers when everyone was always dressed nicely, always in dresses or button ups. So when he leaves to visit the other kingdoms of Olympia, you take advantage walking around in sweats and shirts with no bras.

Zeus was currently in the Aphrodite kingdom, talking love and weddings and whatnot, you didn't really know, nor did you really care. It's been about two weeks of wedding talk, or two weeks since the day you got engaged. It's been sickening, you've had to sit through three dinners with Luke, trying your best not to throw something across the table every time he makes an 'assface' type of comment. Anyways, Zeus finally letting you out of sight may have been a blessing.

After snaking through your closet, you pulled some little shorts and a bikini. By the garden out behind your castle, there's a gazebo with a glass roof and lawn chairs, perfect for sunbathing.

As you skipped down the hallways, you waved off all your maids, and butlers and servants. Finally you pushed through the doors to the garden that looked straight from a painting. While walking down, you were brushing your hand along the bushes and hedges, occasionally picking and plucking some flowers and putting one in your hair.

Making it to the gazebo, you took off your shorts and laid down. The sound of the leaves and frogs could've made you fall asleep. Except, you were interrupted.

"Excuse me? Princess Y/N," it was your favorite maid, Margaret.

"Yes Margaret, is something wrong," you asked without opening your eyes.

"You have a visitor," her voice sounded somewhat nervous, and you could only guess who it was.

"If its my father, please tell him what I do in my free time is my business and my business alone."

"You gotta stop thinking I'm your dad," your eyes shot open. "It's getting a little concerning."

You looked at him, standing in front of you with the sun coating his skin in a nice golden light. He gave you a smug look, with that jagged scar stretched out on his face.

"What're you doing here," you asked as you leaned up in your seat. "Go home."

"That's no way to speak to your future husband, now is it?"

You sat fully up, crossing your arms and throwing one leg over the other, while looking up at him with an unpleasant expression. "I asked you a question."

"When did you grow to be so feisty?"

"When did you grow up to be such an ass-"

"I'm going back now," Margaret said nervously. "Bye princess."

She quickly scurried off back from where she came from. You scowled, "your scaring the help away Castellan."

"Me? You're the one with a foul mouth. What was it you said, 'that it was unbecoming of a princess?' Or is that only when daddy dearest is around?"

"Gods forbid I do something alone."

"You know, sooner than you think I'll be here for you more," you raised your brow. "One week."

You stood up, "What does 'one week' mean?"

"It means in one week I'll see you in your long white dress walking down the aisle, all for me."

Your eyes widened, "One week? Why is he rushing things??"

"Who cares," he laughed. "Personally, I can not wait."

You weren't ready for marriage. Not only were you too young, but too sober to get through a wedding with Luke. You yelled in frustration while holding your head in your hands. When you looked back up, you saw Luke's hair standing up on its self. Before freaking out, you quickly grabbed onto Luke and pulled him behind you, under the roof of the gazebo. Then a giant bolt of lightning, with a width twice the size of a telephone pole, zapped the ground where he was just standing.

"Holy.." he whispered.

"I meant full offense by the way," you panted, despite it being accidental, it took more out of you then you thought.

"Wow, almost worked yourself to death trying to kill me?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him off as he tried catching you. When you did so, you wobbled a little. "I'm fine."

You stumbled back to your chair to grab your shorts and head back home, nearly tripping over yourself. "Lemme help you."

"I told you, I'm-" you started coughing. "I'm fine."

"Clearly," you were struggling to stay on your feet. "C'mon."

You didn't have the energy to protest as he picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the house. You tried to push him away with no luck, he really was as strong as he looked. He kept walking till he made it to the kitchen, sitting you down on top of a counter.

"S'cold in here," you shivered, rubbing your hands on whatever they could reach to create whatever warmth possible. Luke was looking inside a fridge for a bottle of water, tossing it to you.

You barely caught it and took a sip, "course your cold, you got almost nothing on."

You paid no attention to him looking you up and down as you chugged the water, some dripping from the sides of your mouth and sliding down your body. You tossed the now empty bottle aside and hopped off the counter, grabbing your shorts and walking out.

"Stop following me."

"I'm not following you, I'm just walking in the same direction," he mused.

"Find another direction, I'm going to take a shower."

"Come on wifey, let's keep the same direction," you glared at him, trying not to react at the ridiculous nickname. "You thought it was funny you can admit it."

You smacked him on the arm with your shorts, "As if."

"You know, I remember when we were younger, and your dad forced you to wear those god awful swimsuits, the long sleeves and shorts. Remember those days?"

"Gods, how could I forget," you grumbled. "The tan lines those suits would give me were outrageous."

You both chuckled before you remembered something, "hey. Let's not forget you also had a swim shirt. And a bucket hat, with the white strips on sun screen on your face."

"Okay okay we can calm down now."

"Hey, you started it, I just finished it," you threw your hands up, and Luke just rolled his eyes. You guys continued walked as you made it to your bedroom. "I was serious, I do need to take a shower now."

"Hey, we used to take baths together when we were kids, and we were engaged then too, whats so different now?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just ask that," you said as you went through your drawers looking for some clean clothes.

"Nothings different, now we're just taller," he shrugged.

"You want to see me naked so bad it's sickening," you joked as you turned back around and looked at Luke. He was laid back on your bed with his arms behind his head as he just stared at you. When his short sleeves are moving up and struggling to fit against his biceps, it makes you forget what a villainous 15 year old he was. "Not even gonna deny it?"

"Nope" he cheered. "And don't act so innocent, like I didn't just catch you checking me out, princess."

"I don't know what your talking about."

"I can see it in your eyes, what you want."

"What're you talking about," you walked up, standing in front of him.

"You act like you hate me, but I don't think you really do," he said as he sat up on your bed.

"And what makes you say that," you asked as you leaned down, hands on his knees while your cleavage was popping out of your bathing suit into his face.

"Intuition?"

You gave a close-eyed smile as you smacked him upside the head, "Your intuition can eat my ass, get your head out of the gutter."

You laughed as you walked off toward your bathroom. "Your such a tease, aren't you princess?"

"Remember," you started as you leaned against the bathroom doorframe, "As I am royalty, its disrespectful to oh so brazenly stay in my bedroom, out of wedlock no less, with no supervision. What would the people say?"

"The people? Or your father, who isn't even here," he questioned. "How would he feel if he saw the clothes you hide away in your closet? Is there anything else you'd be willing to show?"

"I have my secrets," you said as you started untie your top as you shut the door before anything was revealed. You pressed your ear against the door and rustling from the other side. After a moment of rapid knocking while tying your top back, you opened the door. "Need something?"

"To shower, I'm filthy," Luke said as he walked passed you into the bathroom.

"Only thing filthy is your brain if you think I'm getting in that shower with you," you watched as he turned the shower on and take his shirt off.

"I think the filthiest thing in this room is the way you can't keep your eyes of me."

"I'm not checking you out, I'm just shocked by your sheer audacity."

"Princess, what are you, scared? Scared to shower with your fiancé?"

"Scared? Excuse me," you raised your eyebrow. "What makes you think I would ever be scared right now?"

"I think you won't be able to resist me and that aggravates you."

"Screw you," you started undoing your bathing suit and walking into the shower. Luke stood there with both eyebrows raised. "You coming in? Or are you the one with no self-control?"

"Yeah we'll see about that," he finished undressing and hopped into the shower behind you. You did your best to pay him little to no attention, but it was difficult. You kept yourself faced away, though either side of you, Luke didn't mind.

To be fair, you did want to turn around, but you stayed strong. Hard, I know. You minded your business as you shampooed your hair. "You missed a spot."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did," he ran his hand through your hair, softly massaging your scalp. "Right there."

It felt nice, though you weren't gonna say that. "What're you doing?"

"Washing your hair," he tightened his grip on your hair, slowly pulling your head back to look at him. "What're you thinking? Something dirty?"

"You speak to me much too freely, have you no respect," you turned completely as you pointed your finger into his chest, making sure you keep eye contact.

"Of course I do, I plan to treat you with nothing but the upmost respect," he grabbed your finger, interlocking his hand in yours, while his words were laced with arrogance.

"You drown in your over-confidence, I hope you know. And we both know you came in here thinking you were going to get lucky, didn't you?"

"Ah so you see, I'm already lucky to be in here," he smiled.

"Oh Luke, flattery gets you no where."

"You could always let it get me somewhere."

"Why should I, did your little Aphrodite princess let you get lucky?"

"Wouldn't you like to know what we've done," he leaned down into your face.

"As you're your future wife, don't you think I'm entitled to know your past," you raised your brow at him. "Why, do you think she'd be better than anything I'd be able to do?"

"What makes you think I slept with her?"

"Well.. did you," you quickly asked, upset with how interested you sounded.

"Your cute when your jealous," he moved his hand that was still in your hair down to your jaw, making sure you were looking up at him.

"I'm not jealous, what is there to be jealous of?"

"So you wouldn't care if I had sex with her? You wouldn't care about being not being my first?"

You stayed silent. "Though of course, as my future wife, you are entitled to all that information. All the details." He kept talking and you started getting upset. "What was it you wanted to know? How long it lasted, how many times we had sex, how many different positions we did?"

"Shut. up," you stared into his chest, but he just pulled your face back up to look at him.

"What was that?"

"I told you to shut up," you moved his hands and let go of him as you walked out the shower, grabbing a towel and covering yourself. You hated the way that crush from when you were 14 still lingered, even more when he talks about the girl he cheated with. It could've been you who... yeah. You moved so you were no longer in his sight as you dried off.

"I never did," he called out. You contemplated ignoring him.

"Did what."

"Her," he paused. "I never did her."

That made you weirdly happy, but you didn't let it show. "That's all I wanted to know."

"You coming back in?"

"No I don't think so, I'm feeling squeaky clean," you walked past the shower with your towel wrapped around your body as you made your way to the door. "But if you still feeling filthy, stay as long as you need."

You laughed and shut the door behind you, Lukes eyes lingering as you did so. This was going to be fun.

[lemmetreatya]

librarian!eren who knows he’s being sinful every time he watched you come in; his eyes always drawn to the extensive collection of oversized hoodie and biking shorts you wore.

how librarian!eren quickly realises that you’d only come at vacant hours, where the benches are cleared and the library finds itself void of other occupants — bar librarian!eren of course.

or how you occasionally make conversation with librarian!eren because he’s the only one there. even worse, because he’s a night shift worker and they only need one person on staff for ratio (okay but who the fuck keeps a local library open past six?! — it’s not like this was NYPL for people to be coming in at ungodly hours) but alas, there were budding learners, like you, who always seemed to make good of the toxic hours and used them accordingly.

well, on most nights, that was.

as librarian!eren is packing a few of the return books back to their rightful place, he peaks past a pillar and almost drops the 1st edition fantasy book that was over 150 years old.

because no fucking way were you doing what he thinks you were doing.

automatically he feels his dick jump within his boxers and he panics, because librarian!eren still has four hours of his shift to go — theres no way he could get through it bricked up. for the sake of his own sanity, he has to think chaste thoughts; like cute bunnies and purple frogs.

but no matter how many times he looked and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t deny your hunched over position, cocked leg perched onto the bench and the sound of petty moans mixed with sizzling vibrations.

librarian!eren thinks to himself how on earth he’s going to go about this. ignore it and save your pride? or enforce justice and escort you out. it doesn’t help that he’s warring within himself but after a heated mental debate, he enters the battle field.

“sorry, but that counts as public indecency.”

and you gasp up at eren, startled, because never did you think you’d ever be caught — especially concerning all the other times you’ve gotten away with it. but now you panic because you couldn’t get a criminal offence to your name, not this term!

but despite that, librarian!eren has a different tactic to how he can implore justice.

someway, somehow, you end up with your toes hovering adjacent to your ears as librarian!eren wets his dick inside your squidgy pussy, his smile demonic as he presses your adorable rose bud to the meaty bean of your clit.

it’s disgusting and it’s weird because at some point you’re begging your local librarian to spit in your mouth and for him to make out with you whilst possessing a cum filled mouth, but he complies all the same. at the end of the day the both of you won.

you tell librarian!eren that you enjoyed the time and would definitely do it again, but apparently you had a thing against the familiarity of second times. either way, librarian!eren doesn’t care. he’s more than happy to go back to doing his work.

librarian!eren can’t believe what’s transpired tonight, but either way, he knows it wasn’t no scenario any book could make up.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down and grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[chrissgirl4ever]

GAMES - MATT x READER

Warning: SMUTT!!

Play song for the vibeee!!

Have fun!~ ;)

I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[toxicanonymity]

Why is your personal trainer joel so fucking creepy and hot 👀 that sauna scene though oh my god 🤤 Why is the thought of that creepy man dry humping the hall out of you just so 🤤 Will reader continue those ✨extra special✨ private lessons? At that point they'll just damn near be straight up fucking when they're working out lol (double work out ig??)

THANK YOU. PT Joel. I guess this turned into a smutty imagine (<700 words, I8+, teasing, semi-public smut)

Imagine the angst if he didn't grind on you next time. Little do you know, he jacked off right before you got to the gym, watching--uh oh--surveillance footage of your last workout. So, say he gets behind you as a spot and doesn't even press himself against you, but you push your ass back. You feel him, big and warm, but not hard. You're in your head about it for the whole workout.

This is unexpectedly fun for him, making you chase him. He doesn't even let you look at his shorts?? He's like, "eyes up here." He makes you work for it. Gives you a really nice, hard workout. But that's not what you came for, is it? He has you in a frog stretch at the end of the session and He finally touches reaches his hand between your legs. He ghosts two fingers over the damp crotch of your shorts, then says, "pull'em down." You do it without hesitation and he pulls them off you. "Good girl." Then he manhandles you into being flat on your stomach with your legs spread wide for him. He's quiet. All you hear is the fan kicking in, until he spits. Then you hear his hand squishing around his cock, and he lines himself up and shoves in. He breathes heavy in your ear as he fills you with his cock. He pulls your tank top and sports bra down under your tits. And you let him do whatever he wants.

--

It's too fun for him, making you desperate for it. Next time it's similar, but at the end, he doesn't fuck you. He catches you in the parking lot subtly touching yourself in your car before you drive off. He walks up to your window with a huge boner like "if ya want somethin', take it next time." So next time, he does graze you a couple of times. And at the end of the session, you're both on the floor, stretching. It's clearly on your mind. You've been squirming the whole session. He gets up on his knees and follows your eyes to his shorts -- where you're eyeing his hard length snug against his left inner thigh. He challenges you with a raise of his eyebrows, and you get up and knee walk toward him. "Good girl," he whispers. You reach out and feel him and he groans at your touch.

"Sit," you tell him.

"Hell yeah," he whispers.

"Take it out."

"Mm-hmm." Now he's sitting there with his huge cock and balls out for your taking. You take your shorts off, balance with your hands on his shoulders, and sit on it. He helps pull you down on his fat cock and you gasp. He doesn't make you do all the work. He sets the rhythm and fucks you from the bottom and he's grunting and breathing, "Fuck." His groan echoes as he pulls you down and finishes inside. "Good," he whispers.

--

Imagine you get sick of the games, or you start dating someone, so you go back to your normal gym. He shows up there, too. Probably makes you drool for a few days then catches you at the water fountain refilling your bottle. He takes the bottle out of your hand and sets it on top of the water fountain. Then grabs you by the arm and pulls you into the men's locker room. He shoves his hand down the front of your pants and grinds against you as he fingers you. It only takes a minute to get you off. From then on you work out in constant anticipation.

One time, he comes over when you're doing floor work and says under his breath, "I want ya to relax your muscles. . . ." You do as he says. "Now engage your core. . . good. . . and your pelvic floor. . . " He talks you through it. "Ok, now relax." Each "rep," you get closer and closer, and the next thing you know you're coming untouched. "Good set," he mumbles and subtly adjusts himself before going back to his workout.

[lewmagoo]

trouble's always gonna find you | rhett abbott

description: in which you know he's no good for you, but you just can't stay away

pairing: rhett abbott x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ only, dark themes, questionable morals, non-graphic description of a gunshot wound, mentions of death, allusions to crime, unprotected p in v sex (on the floor lol), choking, creampie

notes: i have no idea what this even is, but as soon as i saw these pictures for the first time yesterday, i started writing this fic. i just wanted to write something mysterious and different. and i'm proud of myself for finishing a fic for the first time in months. i may also write more installments for this story in the future, depending on how well it's received.

You couldn’t sleep. 

It was late July, and the air was heavy and thick with humidity. You felt as if you lived in a swamp. Which, essentially, that was what Florida was. Your skimpy tank top and shorts did little to cool you down, but foregoing clothes wouldn’t offer you much relief. 

And to make matters worse, the small window unit that cooled your entire double-wide had broken, leaving you without a way to cool down. So, you found yourself outside, seated on your porch swing as you stared out into the night.

Your neighborhood was quiet. As it should be, at 2 o’clock in the morning. You were enjoying the peace, listening to the throaty calls of frogs and other nightlife. If it hadn’t been so miserably hot, you might have even felt serene.

That is, until the sound of a rickety old pickup truck approaching interrupted all the frogs and cicadas and crickets. You froze, your eyes widening as you watched the truck approach. A blue, beat-up GMC Sierra, circa 2006. 

The vehicle came to a stop at the trailer directly next to yours. You rose to your feet, immediately stepping toward the edge of your porch, watching as the driver shut off the engine and proceeded to climb out of the truck, heavy work boots thudding against the ground.

Your stomach twisted as you realized that he was hurt. The hand pressed against his left shoulder alerted you to that much. And even in the darkness, you could see the crimson shade of blood seeping through the fingers that remained against his shoulder.

He made eye contact with you as he limped toward the door of his trailer. You weren’t sure if he even wanted to see you, but you found your legs moving of their own accord, carrying you toward him, toward the man you knew that you never should have gotten tangled up with. The man who had more skeletons in his closet than you could ever count. 

The man named Rhett Abbott. 

He’d stepped inside already, but he’d left the door open, knowing you were following him. You stepped onto the ramshackle porch that squeaked beneath your feet and made you feel as if it was going to give way and send you falling to the ground underneath it. 

Hesitating, you stood in the doorway for a moment before your feet crossed over the threshold. You glanced around, eyes adjusting to the warm glow of the lamp he had turned on as he came through.

“Rhett?” You cautiously called out. You shut the door behind you as you walked further into the trailer, old, orange shag carpet soft beneath the soles of your sandals. You walked down the dim hall, toward the bathroom, where you finally saw him.

He was hunched over the sink, hands whiteknuckling the counter. He was trembling, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “Rhett?” You spoke again as you came to a stop in the bathroom doorway.

Now that you were closer, you could see that his shoulder injury was actually a gunshot wound. Your eyes went wide and your chest tightened. “Who did this?” You asked. The heavy weight of dread washed over you. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he gruffed.

“Yes it does.”

He looked at you in the mirror, his gaze harsh. “You know who did it.”

A chill ran down your spine. He’d always refused to share the details of his job with you. You knew that he drove semi trucks for a living, but early on, you had learned that he transported materials for some dangerous people. You had no idea who they were, or what he actually transported for them, and he had sworn to you that you never would know, either. 

You knew that you were foolish for getting involved with a man like him. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with him, and now, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Maybe it was because some part of you believed that you could somehow fix him. Save him from himself.

But Rhett Abbott didn’t want to be saved. Whatever it was that he was involved in had him chained down like a prisoner. He couldn’t leave. Not even your love for him was strong enough to pull him away. 

“I can’t leave,” he murmured to you one night, as you lay in bed with him. “They’ll kill me if I do.”

Those words had stuck with you ever since. And now, every time he left, you feared that this time, he might not come back. And now, seeing him hunched over his bathroom sink with a bullet wound in his shoulder, you were struck with a wave of nausea. 

“But…but why? Why did they do this?” You whispered.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “The less you know, the safer you are,” he responded. 

You stepped forward, reaching your hands out, touching either side of his face. His stubble was rough beneath your palms. You wanted to ask so many more questions, but you knew he was right. Despite your involvement with him already being a risk to your safety, he did what he could to protect you still. And part of that was disclosing as little as possible with you about his line of work. 

The people he worked for were capable of heinous things. He had witnessed these things firsthand. Unspeakable acts of violence and depravity. He would cut off his own arm before he let you be subjected to those things. 

“Can I at least help you take care of this wound?” You softly questioned.

His lashes fluttered. “Mhm.”

You let go of his face. “Go sit at the kitchen table. And take your shirt off, if you can.”

He let out a breath, nodding almost imperceptibly before he stepped around you, leaving you to scrounge up whatever first aid items you could find in the bathroom as he took a seat in the kitchen. Wooden chair legs scraped against cracked linoleum as he sat down. There, he took his hat off, tossing it onto the table before gingerly removing his bloodied shirt. 

The wound wasn’t that bad. In fact, it could have been much worse. It was only a warning. If the man holding the gun had been intending to kill him, Rhett would already be dead. Instead, he had a nick in his shoulder, and he doubted it would even need stitches.

As you approached with gauze and rubbing alcohol, he eyed you, and felt a sadness building in his chest, clouding his lungs like wildfire smoke, making it difficult to breathe. He was selfish to keep you in his life. He needed to let you go. But he knew that he wasn’t strong enough to do so.

As stoic as he appeared, he cared for you deeply. Hell, he loved you. And that terrified him, because in his experience, whenever he loved someone, they were ripped away from him. He tried to tell himself this time would be different. But that was merely wishful thinking. 

“I wish you’d leave this job,” you murmured as you soaked a piece of gauze in alcohol. You used it to wipe the blood from his skin, cleaning the area around his wound. As it came in contact with the gash, he hissed only slightly. He’d endured far worse pain in his life.

“Can’t,” he simply said.

You sighed as you tossed the bloodied gauze in the trash. “Why? Is this what they’ll do to you if you try? Will they kill you for leaving?”

In the low light, his gaze flickered up to meet yours. His chest heaved slightly. “Don’t ask me anythin’ else about it.”

“Why not?!”

“Because they could take you from me! And I can’t lose you!” He shouted, his outburst causing you to jump in surprise. 

You stared at him, your body tense, your breath trapped in your lungs for a brief moment as you processed his words. You didn’t know how to respond. So you did the only thing you could think of. You reached for him, pulling his body toward yours, letting his head rest upon your abdomen as one of your hands came up to run through his hair. 

He was trembling. So were you. You realized that you had never fully grasped the gravity of the situation until now. This was, quite literally, life or death. A clear reason to walk away, to leave him behind and find another place to live, for your own safety. And yet, you didn’t walk away. 

You stayed right there, in the middle of his kitchen, in a rundown little trailer in the middle of a Florida trailer park, holding him close. You were already in over your head. What was allowing yourself to sink a few more feet into the water going to change?

“Sorry for yellin’,” he mumbled as you finally pulled away to continue tending to his wound. His voice trembled.

“I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about me,” came your soft response. Your tone wasn’t accusatory. 

Rhett was a hard man to read. You had met him two years prior, when he’d first moved into the trailer next door to yours. He’d come to Florida, of all places, for a fresh start. Claimed the reason he’d chosen this place was because it was as far away from his hometown as he could get. 

The attraction between you was there. It resulted in a casual romp between the sheets, that soon turned into both of you catching feelings. Around that time, Rhett started a new job at a trucking company, which meant he was gone for days at a time. And that was all well and good, until he started coming home with a haunted look in his eyes and an uneasy countenance. 

He wouldn’t tell you what had happened. Refused to share any details. He insisted that it was for your own safety. But it only created a sinking feeling of unease in your gut. Whoever he’d gotten involved with was powerful. 

You knew he cared about you in some way, because he was so adamant about protecting you. But he wasn’t much for words. He’d never truly expressed how much you meant to him. 

But now, as you stood before him in his kitchen, it was finally out in the open. He was terrified of losing you. Couldn’t stomach the thought of you being taken from him. You could see it in his eyes. Raw fear that made you shiver. 

“‘Course I feel that way about you,” he whispered. “I know ‘m shit with expressin’ my feelings, but…you mean so much to me, an’ I can’t– I can’t stomach the thought of losin’ you.” He’d never forgive himself if he ended up being the reason for harm coming to you. In his heart, he knew you were safest if you weren’t associated with him at all, but selfishly, he couldn’t let you go. 

You sighed softly as you moved to finish patching him up, smoothing medical tape over the gauze so it would stay in place. “For what it’s worth, I really care about you, Rhett. I don’t know exactly what you’re tied up in, and maybe I’m stupid for sticking with you because of it. But I want to be with you. I want this to work.”

“Me too,” he hummed, watching as you gathered up all of the first aid paraphernalia, tossing the used items into the trash.

“I just hate seeing you come home hurt,” you added on, voice thick with emotion. “And it…it scares me, what they could do to you. You say you’re afraid to lose me, but did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way about losing you?”

He nodded, his eyes downcast. If he was looking at you, you would have been able to see the raw emotion glimmering in his eyes. “I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to leave this job. I promise,” came his confession.

You took his face in your hands, thumbs gently rubbing circles against his cheeks. “I hope you do,” you replied. 

He took a deep, unsteady breath before he released it. Your touch calmed him, melting some of the tension he carried upon his shoulders. His large hands came up to rest upon your hips, and he pulled you closer, slotting you between his knees. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers slotting into the curls at the nape of his neck. His hair had gotten longer since you’d seen him last. He was in need of a haircut. You would likely end up giving him one outside in the yard one of these days. 

His stubble had grown out, too. He looked weathered and tired, but still so handsome. 

His lashes fluttered at the feeling of your fingers brushing against the skin of his neck, and he shivered slightly. It had been a while since he had felt the tenderness of your touch. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for it. 

Slowly, you leaned in, gaze flickering to his lips before you caught his eye. He gave the faintest of nods, giving you permission before you gently captured his lips with your own. 

He melted into you, a soft grunt leaving his throat as you kissed him. His heart rate quickened in his chest, his skin heating. 

You were dressed in your little tank top and shorts, and he could feel how warm you were against his bare torso. As his large hands splayed over your hips, the fabric of your shorts rode up, granting him access to the swell of your ass. 

He broke the kiss, breathing rushed as he pressed his face against the side of your neck, mouth open against your skin. 

“Need you,” he gasped. He was desperate to feel your body against his again. Desperate to have that connection with you. After all he’d been through, he craved tenderness. 

As one of his hands came up to paw at your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top, you knew you could not resist. You wanted him, too. 

Your knees went weak as he tugged your top town further, his tongue laving at the exposed swell of your chest. One hand remained tangled in his hair, guiding his head further into you. “Need you too,” came your breathless response.

He looked up at you then, and you saw unbridled desire in his eyes. “I…” he began, but trailed off, unsure of how to express what he truly wanted. He was overcome with such an intense wave of emotions. He might even describe himself as being ravenous for you. Having a near brush with death had brought out an almost feral yearning for you.

What was soon to follow would not be gentle. It would be animalistic. Somehow, you knew this. So you nodded your head. “It’s okay. Take what you need.”

So he stood from his chair, one hand holding the side of your neck as he pulled you in to kiss you again, his hulking frame hunched over you. His mouth locked with yours again, kissing you deeply as he backed you into the kitchen table. 

He guided you to sit upon the smooth wood, and he immediately slotted himself between your thighs. His stubble was rough against your skin, creating a delicious burn that made you shudder. Then he trailed his mouth down your jaw, teeth nipping at you as he went lower. You gasped, back arching, body pressing into his as he shifted his attention to your neck. 

Then he yanked your tank top down, exposing your breasts. One of which he gripped in his hand, the other he attended to with his mouth, teeth grazing your nipple, causing it to harden beneath his touch. 

Your fingers tugged at his hair, and you could feel the molten heat beginning to settle between your legs. Being this close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his body against yours, was so overwhelming. You had missed him so terribly.

Being in your proximity was affecting him, too. He grabbed your hand, bringing it down below his belt, alerting you to what you’d done to him. You gasped softly at the feeling of his hardness. You ached for him, longing to have him inside you, joined as one.

In a flurry of need, you reached to undo his belt buckle, hands fumbling, eager, impatient. He watched you for a moment before he pushed your hands away and finished the job himself.

Then those big hands of his were pulling your shorts down your legs, completely removing them, tossing them aside. Then came your tank top, which he all but ripped over your head, the flimsy fabric protesting in the form of popping seams as he did so. 

Now, you were fully exposed to him, laying bare naked on his kitchen table, staring up at him, silently begging him to take things further. He ducked forward, trailing his tongue over your abdomen and up between your breasts, tasting the salt of the sweat on your skin. 

Then he moved to kiss you again, tongue delving into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. As he did this, he brought his hand down between your legs, dipping his middle and ring fingers inside you. You gasped at the feeling of the thick digits, and he pressed his forehead to yours as he fucked you with his fingers, with the intention of making you wetter than you already were, so he could fuck you with ease. 

With his left hand, he grabbed your throat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his injured shoulder. He applied just the slightest bit of pressure to your neck, fingers pressing into the sides, intentionally avoiding your airway so that you would be able to breathe with ease. Your eyes went wide, and you gasped sharply, mouth falling open. 

Rhett could feel the way you suddenly tightened around him, and it sent his blood rushing south, cock growing even harder. He could feel you, even slicker around his fingers. You’d begun to drip like a juicy peach bitten into on a hot summer's day, coating his hand in your molten arousal. It pulled a breathless groan from his throat.

He pulled his hand back then, lifting it to his mouth to suck your wetness off his fingers before he hurriedly began unbuckling his belt. You watched him, dazed. You found yourself suddenly desperate for him, your desire to have him inside you completely overwhelming you senses.

Your eyes flickered downward, unable to tear your gaze away as he tugged his jeans and underwear down, exposing his hard, leaking cock. You whimpered softly, biting your lip as you quite literally began to salivate like a starving animal at the sight of him.

Rhett tipped your chin up then, so you were looking into his face. "Keep your eyes on me" he instructed, and you obeyed, staring into the deep blue, so dark it was almost like looking into the midnight sky.

He aligned himself with you, and in one carefully timed thrust, he was fully seated inside you. No hesitation. No easing into you to let you adjust. He made you take him all at once. You let out a cry at the feeling, and he watched the way your brow furrowed, the way your mouth fell open. In the yellow light of his trailer, you looked so heavenly, like a deity sent to grace him with your presence. He wanted to commit your features to memory.

With one hand pressed against the table and the other cradling the back of your head, he began to move. Slowly at first, working up to a rhythm. You melted in his arms, moaning lowly at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding into your tight, slick heat before pulling back again. His thickness filled you in such a satisfying way.

Rhett leaned back to watch his cock disappear within you with each push of his hips into your own. The sight of you stretching to accommodate him had his knees going weak. A switch was flipped in his arousal-clouded brain. He wasn’t going to fuck you slowly. He was going to take you hard and fast.

You cried out as he quickened his movements, driving himself into you deeply before pulling back, just to do it all over again. the force of which caused the legs of the kitchen table to scrape against the linoleum floor. However, the harder he fucked you, he found that the table was inching its way back, moving across the floor little by little. To solve this problem, he lifted you, inside you still as he lowered you to the kitchen floor, one hand supporting the back of your head so you wouldn't bump it on the way down.

You gazed up at him, completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. His frame was hulking over yours. He was so broad, he could make almost anyone feel small beside him. But despite his roughness, despite all that he was tied up in that had hardened him this way, you knew you were safe here, connected to the man that you loved. You weren’t sure when you realized you were in love with him, but the realization had been painful, because you knew you shouldn’t be involved with a man like him.

Yet here you were, on his kitchen floor, letting him fuck you. You were in too deep now.

You lifted her back off the ground, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair as you pulled him down to kiss her. "Nobody else gets to do this to me," you breathed. "Only you." Because that was the truth. No matter how many times he left, or how long he was gone, he was the only man you wanted.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you hard, resuming his pace, though this time, he went harder. He placed his hands on the floor by either side of your head, using his strength to drive himself into you. There was an intensity in his face, a look that seemed almost animalistic. Mouth curled into a snarl. Brow furrowed.

Beneath him, you whimpered and wailed at the feeling of him inside you. Your pretty, broken sounds were music to his ears. He wanted to hear them always. 

And when you asked for more, he gave it to you. He ground against you each time his hips met yours, his pubic bone pressing into your sensitive gathering of nerves. This sent you shuddering in pleasure, head thrown back as electricity crackled through you.

Your chests were pressed together, heartbeats and breaths intertwining, joining you as one. You clutched at him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as your fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back. You felt as if you might float away, each ripple of ecstasy stronger than the last.

It felt so dirty to be fucked into the kitchen floor, and yet, your entire body was a live wire, crackling and sparking beneath him as you wailed and cried and begged for more. Rhett captured your cries in his open mouth, kissing you languidly, gasping against your lips, moaning your name, swearing under his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, shifting your hips up to meet each thrust, trying to chase that delicious spark that you felt each time he grinded against you. But Rhett wasn’t going to let you do all the work.

To help you plummet toward your end more quickly, he slipped his good arm between your bodies, hand quickly locating the place you needed him most, deft fingers swirling against your swollen clit. You arched into him, mouth falling open as you gripped his arm, nails digging into the meat of it.

“Wan’ you to come for me,” he growled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. 

The pressure he used against your swollen, twitching clit was certainly going to cause that to happen. “C-close!” You squeaked.

He nodded, lock of hair falling against his forehead. “I know. Can feel y’ squeezin’ me.”

Your pussy was involuntarily clenching around him, and you could feel the evidence of your arousal dripping from you, soaking his shaft, creating a puddle on the floor beneath you. Rhett could feel it, too, and it made him shudder above you.

“S’fuckin wet.”

All you could do was whimper, jolting against him as he offered a particularly deep thrust. “O-oh my g–ah!”

You wrapped both arms around him, and locked your legs in place, holding on for dear life as he fucked you into the floor, grunting and growling as he did, the weight of his body heavy against your own, but not overwhelmingly so. Oddly enough, the weight felt almost comforting. It grounded you, and if only for a moment, you felt as if nothing could take you away from him. You were safe. You were shielded. 

And then he was in your ear, gritting out, “c’mon baby, need y’ to come for me. Come all over me, just let go.”

And oh, you wanted to give it all to him. Wanted to succumb to the intensity roiling deep within you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure slipping down the sides of your face as you did so. You felt hot all over, buzzing from head to toe, near your boiling point. 

Rhett leaned back, bringing his hand to your throat all over again, pressing his fingertips into the sides, cutting off your blood flow. Your eyes shot open, and your gaze locked with his as you let out a sound between a shriek and a gasp. The restricted blood flow made your head spin, and suddenly, you felt as if you were floating above yourself, in the midst of an out-of-body experience.

Everything you felt was heightened tenfold, and you were very quickly overwhelmed. 

“I said, come,” he growled.

And you did. Whether it was on command, or your body was already tipping over the edge, you didn’t know. But what you did know was, you were plunged into the throes of an orgasm so intense, you swore you blacked out for a moment. Searing ecstasy rippled through you, spreading from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

You cried out Rhett’s name, holding onto him for dear life as you convulsed beneath him, pulsing around his cock. He had to fight to hold it together, because he was moments away from his own end, and he wanted to enjoy you like this for a moment longer before he let go.

He watched you in awe, amazed at how beautiful you were when you were in such a state of unbridled pleasure. As you writhed in his arms, he held you, keeping you grounded when you felt like you’d float away.

As you slowly came down from the intensity, Rhett took that as his cue to pick up his pace, kissing you when you began to whimper from the sensitivity. "I'm gonna fill you to the brim," he gritted out, voice strained as he approached his own release.

You welcomed it, you begged for it, longing to feel his essence spilling deep within you. And he gave it to you. With nothing short of a roar, Rhett came undone. He buried his face against your neck as he lost himself, hips pressed tightly to yours as he spasmed and filled you with his warmth. You held him close, shivering at the sensation.

Still breathless, his body relaxed against your own, though he was careful not to rest dead weight on you.  As he slowly regained his composure, he lifted his head, moving to plant a deep kiss on your lips. 

You held his face in your hands as you kissed him back. But your connection could only last for so long. His cock was beginning to soften within you, and you could feel his seed dripping between your thighs, joining the mess you’d already made on the floor. 

Although he didn't want to part from you, he knew he couldn't stay this way forever. So eased himself from you, soothing you with another kiss before he lifted his head to gaze between your legs at the mess he'd made.

Wordlessly, he swiped his fingers through your combined mess, and then brought those fingers to your mouth. Eagerly, you parted your lips, tasting your shared arousal, sucking his digits clean. He hummed low in his throat. The sight was nearly enough to have him growing hard all over again.

But he gave you both a moment of reprieve, moving to settle beside you on the floor, as you stared up at the aged popcorn ceiling together. His hand rested on his abdomen, while the other searched for your own hand, interlacing your fingers.

“I missed you,” you whispered into the silence.

He hummed. “I missed y’ too.”

The heaviness of reality had begun to set in as the afterglow faded and your conversation grew serious. You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at Rhett. “Should I be worried about you coming home with more gunshot wounds from now on?” You asked, as you lovingly traced your fingers around the area you had covered with gauze.

He sighed. “I…I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But I want ya to know, I’m gonna figure out a way to quit this job, alright? You deserve a better life. A better man. And I can be a better man. I just gotta clean up the mess I made first.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

But the truth was, Rhett wasn’t sure that he could keep that promise. He would try, dammit, he’d try. But he was very well aware that going through with it could result in his own life being snuffed out. 

And that night, as he lay in bed, with you sleeping soundly by his side, he considered what might happen to you if he ended up meeting a premature end. He had several thousand in cash stuffed into a loose floorboard in the closet. You could live off of that for a while.

He just wanted to make sure you were taken care of in the event that something happened to him.

The thought made him uneasy. But as he gazed upon your peaceful form, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to build a beautiful life with you. He wanted to take you away from all of this, away from this hick trailer park, and give you a home worth living in.

But the only way he could do any of those things, was by breaking the shackles that held him down. He had to walk away from the line of work that he was tied up in, and he had to do it now, otherwise, he’d never be free.

So, in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise, he slipped away. He wrote you a note, left you a twenty dollar bill to buy yourself breakfast with, and left a featherlight kiss against your temple before he walked out to meet fate.

When you woke a few hours later, you found his note on the wobbly old nightstand beside the bed. 

It read, Went to try and fix things. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Buy yourself some breakfast with this 20. If I’m not back in a week, there’s a few grand under the loose floorboard in my closet. Take it and move far away from here, because it won’t be safe for you to stay here anymore. 

P.S. I know I’m shit at words, but I just want you to know, I love you. Hope I see you soon. - Rhett.

You stared at his barely legible writing, your chest tightening with uncertainty. What on earth did he mean by if I’m not back in a week? A pit of dread formed in your gut. You knew he was trying to leave his job, but would doing so cost him his life?

You so badly wanted him to have his freedom back, but what good would that freedom do him if he was dead?

You didn’t buy breakfast with the money he left you that morning. You felt much too sick to your stomach, knowing he was deliberately putting himself in danger. But there was nothing you could do about it. You had no idea where he had gone, nor did you have any clue where to start looking for him.

All you were left to do was worry, and wonder if you would ever see the man you loved again.

-

tagging (those who expressed interest in the concept post i made): @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @floydsmuse @hangmanapologist @bobfloydsbabe @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @milesmillergf @laracrofted @floydsglasses @westpastor @seitmai-too @topherwrites

[batnoise]

[🦇 / july 2023 ] artfight 2023 attack for @jareddillon !! ❤️💙💥

[ID: a digital drawing with rough linework of a colorful frog girl anthro, red in color with blue arms and legs, darker spots all over her body, a backwards black cap, a cropped leather jacket, short shorts, and a blue tube top. she stands squatting with one arm up in a peace sign against a background of brightly colored spraypaint splatters, with a smug expression on her face. /end ID]

[harryzroze]

Happy Lesbian Visibility Week !!! cheers to the fav lesbians

Close up image, screenshot reference I used and image description under the cut below!

Ruby and Sapphire from the show "Steven Universe" in a forest scene, a redraw of the scene in the episode "The Answer" moments before they fuse for the second time. My drawing has more paint-like texture due to the brushes I used, with dark blue shadows of trees in the middle-ground and background to frame around the two characters. There is a darker tree shape in the foreground that frames the brightly lit forest scene. Streams of water are flowing around the two gems and rays of light are coming from above the forest shooting downwards to hit the streams of water, making the areas glow. There are soft pink lights spread out in these glowing areas. I also added 2 frogs in the bottom right corner as a nod to the moment in the episode where Ruby catches a frog when they explore the surface together. Sapphire and Ruby are holding each other before they dance in this scene. Sapphire has her left hand on Ruby's right shoulder, Ruby's right hand gently hesitating at Sapphire's left elbow. Ruby's left hand and Sapphire's right hand (their respective gem hands) are holding each others hands in the back of the drawing, filling the small empty space between them. Sapphire is leaning forward slightly with a soft smile and Ruby has her eyes closed in a content, happy-like manner.

If you haven't heard of these characters before, here's a general description of them:

Ruby is on the left side of the drawing, she has scarlet red skin with dark red shorts, and a sleeveless dark red shirt with a lighter red triangle in the middle of the shirt heading downwards. her hair is a very red colour (almost black) in a square like shape that frames her face. She has a thick build and appears bulky and strong. She has a ruby gem integrated into her left palm.

Sapphire is on the right side of the drawing, she has light blue skin and a bright blue dress that hides her legs and feet. The torso of the dress is a dark blue with a light blue triangle shape in the front going downwards and two smaller white triangles alongside this. Her dress has big white puffy shapes at her shoulders, and she wears white gloves that go to her elbows. She has light blue long hair (the colour lighter than her skin), that curls down to around her hip area, and she has a fringe that covers up her singular eye. Her thinner arms indicate she may have a slimmer build than Ruby, but they are the same height. She has a sapphire gem integrated into her right palm.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hello 👋 I am a fan of all your work!!

I was wondering if you were still taking requests? If you are here’s an idea: reader (or Lucky) is turn into a child due to a devil fruit and the yandere Strawhats go into over drive to protect them because the reader can’t fight?

Thanks!!

I decided to do this with Lucky since I haven’t updated Lucky Break in a hot minute (I’m sorry but the requests and au’s have been too good). I’m just gonna stick with the east blue gang for this because if I go any further then I’m gonna spoil some stuff. This takes place post Arlong park but pre Loguetown. Lucky is around 4 here. There really isn't much yandere going on here, it's mostly them being wholesome.

Read Lucky Break for context

Get back here!

Straw Hats x Child Reader (Lucky)

2k words

“Luffy please stop carrying her like that you’re going to drop her!” Nami screeched while trying to snatch you out of his hand. 

Luffy only laughed and danced out of the way, still holding you by the ankle while you giggled right along with him. Blood was starting to rush to your head a little bit, but you were having too much fun to complain about it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun!

“Lucky’s fine! She wouldn’t be laughing if she wasn’t!” Despite this, he decided to change his hold on you. By tossing you high into the air. Your giggles fell short at the sensation of sailing into the sky and you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful ocean surrounding you. Gravity caught up, and you fell back into Luffy’s clutches with him holding you under your armpits.

Sanji stormed over and wrenched you out of his grip, and cradling you like a baby, “Are you insane?! What if you didn’t catch her, are you trying to give this one a head injury too?!” You were being squished into his chest while he was aggressively petting your hair and bouncing you as if you were upset. Which you weren’t. Well, you weren’t before but this treatment was more than a little annoying.

Your squirming got his attention back on you as you tried to get out of the somewhat suffocating hold he had on you. This effort was all in vain, as he simply readjusted his grip on you. “What’s wrong, princess? Did that stupid meathead hurt you?” Not even waiting for an answer, he was holding you out to search for any possible injury with a scrutinizing stare.

“No! Put me down, I’m not a baby!” You protested, uselessly kicking your little legs. Sanji’s face fell and he looked like you just stabbed him in the heart. His grip slackened enough for you to be able to free yourself, so naturally you went for it.

The second your feet hit the floor you spun on your heels and ran to Luffy, arms held up to him, “Again! Again!”

Luffy grinned broadly and was quick to do just that, grabbing your tiny waist and launching you into the air before anyone could stop him. Loud shrieks of protest resounded beneath you, but you could barely hear them over the peals of laughter coming out of you. You were so high up that you could look the jolly roger in the eye. Birds were flying past you just a bit higher, glancing at you curiously.

You fell down into Luffy’s hands again, but he learned from last time and immediately ran away from everyone crowding around him with you thrown over his shoulder.

“Would you stop?! What if she fell into the ocean?!” Nami yelled, desperately trying to close the gap between herself and you.

“One of you could’ve gotten her then, right?” Luffy said as if it were painfully obvious, turning to face them and cocking his head to the side.

While his back was turned, Usopp took the opportunity to try and creep up from behind. He made an exaggerated shushing motion to try and keep you quiet. It didn’t work. “Luffy! Usopp’s trying to sneak up on you!” You tattled on him with a smile on your face. Usopp’s jaw dropped at the betrayal.

“Huh? He is?” Luffy whirled around, to verify this. “What are you doing crouched down like that? You tryin’ to play leap frog or something?”

Nami took him having his back turned as her chance. She lunged for you, but wasn’t quick enough. Luffy sidestepped, causing her to plow right into Usopp and tackle him to the ground with a yelp. You giggled and clapped your hands at the mayhem. 

After untangling herself from Usopp, Nami growled in aggravation, “Zoro! Would you quit working out for three seconds and help us?!”

Zoro barely spared her more than a glance before resuming his bicep curls, “Luffy’s just playing with her. What’s the big deal? Relax.”

Sanji ran up from the side, coming very close to grabbing you, only for Luffy to use his stretchy arms to rocket himself up to the crowsnest. There was a cacophony of yelling coming from the deck beneath you. 

Luffy’s whole body shook with laughter as he watched his crew scramble to figure out what to do next. You were perched up on his shoulders now with his hands holding onto your ankles, taking in the sight of the chaos with him. As your own laughter died down, your attention was drawn to his hat. It looked pretty cool to you, and you wanted to wear it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you plucked it off his head and put it onto your own. His shoulders stiffened immediately, and he snapped his head up to look at you. Not that you were paying much attention to him, rather choosing to smile triumphantly at successfully getting your hands on his hat. You looked down at him happily and asked, “Does wearing this make me the captain now?”

“Wha- Hey! First you steal my hat and now you’re trying to take my position, too?! You’re getting the hang of this pirate thing really fast!”

You weren’t able to bask in your victory for very long, the next thing you knew he pulled you off his shoulders by one of your ankles and you were back to how you were being carried around before.

Your grip on his hat wasn’t strong enough to keep him from getting it back. Luffy fixed it back onto his head with an exaggerated huff. He gave you a “serious” stare that only caused you to giggle more.

“Mutiny is a serious crime, you know! You’re in trouble now!”

This made you stop instantly, eyes shooting wide and panic setting in. You were just playing, you didn’t mean to make him mad, much less mad enough to get you into trouble. The smile that had been plastered onto your face up until now fell and your lip began to tremble. You tried to keep a brave face and not be “an attention-seeking crybaby” as your parents put it, but your resolve wasn’t strong enough and tears started to well in your eyes.

Luffy’s demeanor switched just like that, and he started to panic right with you. “Whoa, hey, you don’t need to cry about it! I was just kidding! You’re not really in trouble!” You were shifted into an upright position and brought in for a hug. He was bouncing you slightly and patting your back (a little harshly, but you didn’t say anything about it).

You sniffled pitifully, “I’m not? You promise?”

“Yeah! I promise!”

“Okay…” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes with your sleeve to try and stop the tears that had begun to drip down your face.

“Luffy you- Why is she crying?!” Nami had finally made it up to the crowsnest, only to be horrified upon seeing your teary-eyed expression. She barely had a leg in before aggressively taking you into her arms and smacking Luffy’s head.

“Crying?!” Sanji popped up behind her a moment later. He took a second to confirm that it was indeed you that was crying, and then went after Luffy like a rabid dog. “How dare you make the little lady cry!”

“Hey, I didn’t do it on purpose! We were just playing around!” Luffy shot himself backwards, tumbling over the edge to escape Sanji’s pursuit. Sanji didn’t hesitate to leap down after him. They both hit the ground with a series of thuds and you heard Zoro saying some swear words. Did they land on him?

Nami was rocking you back and forth and scowling down at them, muttering under her breath about them being a bunch of idiots. When she switched her attention to you, her face softened, “Are you okay, Lucky? Our dumb captain didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m okay. He just said I was in trouble for mutiny but then said he was joking so I guess I’m fine.”

“Mutiny?”

“I stole his hat and tried to be the captain,” you admitted to your crimes sorrowfully, still ashamed of your actions even though Luffy said that you weren’t in trouble.

Nami snorted at this, but coughed and tried to hide it, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure he was just joking around with you, but I’m still going to yell at him later for making you cry.” She rubbed your back reassuringly, offering you her sweetest smile, “Are you hungry? How about we get you something to eat.”

“Hmm, okay,” you conceded, food sounded pretty good right about now. There was something that was bothering you though, “Hey Nami? How come everyone keeps calling me Lucky?”

Realization flashed across her face, “Oh right! You remember how we said that you’ve been traveling with us for a while now when you first woke up here? Well, you see, you haven’t been able to remember your name so we’ve just been calling you a nickname.”

“Why can’t I remember my name?”

She scowled at the memory, “Because our stupid captain “accidentally” hit your head when you first met and made you forget everything.” Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, she focused her attention back on you, “But now you do have your memories! Why don’t you tell me your name?”

You mulled this over in your head, feeling a little unsure of this crazy story. Nami was staring at you with anticipation, so you made up your mind quickly. “Nope!” You stuck your tongue out at her mischievously, “It’s a secret!”

She gasped and held a hand to her chest in mock betrayal, “Lucky! Come on, please tell me! If you do, I'll keep it a secret, too!” 

“Nuh-uh! I’m not telling!” You nodded resolutely, enjoying having a secret of your own. It felt so powerful!

Nami sulked her shoulders upon seeing the determination in your eyes, knowing she wasn’t going to win this one for the time being. She sighed and began climbing down the rope ladder to the deck, “Fine, you win for now.” She looked over to where Sanji was still fighting with Luffy (and also Zoro for some reason?) and called out to him, “Hey Sanji, Lucky is hungry!”

Immediately, he violently shoved both crewmates away from him and turned to you two with a slightly disheveled appearance. While attempting to straighten out his clothes and hair, he grinned warmly at you, “How could I be so careless as to not check if you were hungry myself? What’s your favorite food? I’ll make anything you want to make up for it.”

“Really? Anything?” Your eyes were sparkling and you felt your mouth watering as all of your favorite foods flashed through your head.

“Yes, anything,” he repeated back.

You squealed in excitement and clambered into his arms once he was close enough, “You’re the best, mister Sanji!” As you began to rattle off some of your favorites, Sanji was clutching at his chest and trying his damnedest not to give out from how cute this was.

“That sounds good! I want some of that, too!” Luffy popped up at his side, eyeing his cook expectantly.

Sanji’s dopey expression twisted into a scowl and he swung his leg at him, “You don’t get any, stay out of my da-” he cleared his throat, “out of my kitchen.”

Luffy dodged it with a practiced ease and kept following anyway, tacking on other foods he thought Sanji should make while he’s at it. All of it was meat.

You swung your feet happily, watching the interaction. You don’t really understand how your grown up self got to know these people, or how you got turned into a child. Seriously, what’s a devil fruit? But, you think you get why you wanted to be with them despite getting hit on the head by one of them. They seem like fun and nice people.