#the answer to the: we have a hulk is

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Belgian Grand Prix - Sprint Shootout - Fernando Alonso

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged disabled Simon pt 2

think I'm going to make this a series, this part ends a little angsty though. part one

You've been living with Simon for two weeks now and things have started changing with him. You make all his meals now, you can't stand to see him eating the terrible, small, prepackaged foods every night, you even tried to teach him how to cook which was an even bigger mess than you thought it could be. You wanted to start with something simple so you tried to get him to make spaghetti, everything was fine at first but you left once and when you came back the pasta was on fire and he put the pasta sauce in the microwave which then exploded making a giant mess, so you gave up any hope for him cooking from then on. 

On a happier note though, he’ll eat his food before you now, and he takes his mask fully off at dinner, you've also noticed some mornings he leaves it off for a little longer. He still rarely talks but sometimes you think he asks you things just to hear you talk, you've even noticed him following you around the house, he'll just stand in the doorway staring at you, after a bit he'll either leave or find a place to sit. But imagine your surprise when he decided he was gonna follow you as you run errands, he simply replied “jus’ keepin ya safe” when you tried to object. 

So here you are going down your list getting everything you need with a giant hulking shadow following around, you have to admit though you do feel safer knowing no one will even try coming up to you with Simon glaring at them behind you. Last thing on your list is meat, so you both head over to the butcher shop. You're looking around before Simon pulls you back “wha- Simon what is your problem?” “My problem is this store. Everything is overpriced, half the meat is cut with the grain not against it, and the other half is bad, we're not buying meat from ‘ere” he said plain as can be before walking out expecting you to follow, which you did cause you were still in shock you hadn’t heard him talk that much ever. 

But right as you got to the door an employee called out to you. “Welcome in, how can i help you” you stopped walking and turned around to answer him, but simon cut you off “don’ need your help, all your meats are bad” you immediately tried smoothing out the situation “n-no what he's trying to say is-” but the man behind the counter cut you off “you have no idea what your talking, these meats are the best in town, you know nothing about meat” he said coming around the counter “half ya meat is literally turning brown, worked at a butcher shop for two years, so ya i do know” simon replied getting in between you and the man “are we going have a problem, Simon?” That was the wrong thing to say, Simon immediately jumped forward slicing through the tension as he grabbed the man's collar lifting him off the ground. You were trying to get Simon to let the man down, but Simon wasn’t responding to you. You watched simon lean forward closer to the man “don’ talk to me like that if ya like breethin” 

that was it “simon enough” you pulled him away from the man, who was now flat on the floor, pulling Simon straight to the car. “Simon you can't threaten people, I get you were a lieutenant for years but here you're just a normal person, do you understand?”but when you looked at Simon he didn’t look well. “Simon, are you okay?” “y-yeah, let's go home, ya?” something was off but you just went home knowing he wasn't going to tell you.

Simon was off for the rest of the day, he refused lunch and stayed completely quiet in his room all day, now it’s dinner and he hasn't even picked up his fork “Simon, you need to eat” “price will bring all the meat you need later tonight” “Simon eat” you said plain and firm not letting him distract you, slowly he lifted his shaking hand as he grabbed his fork and tried to eat food but his hand kept shaking worse and worse, immediately you were up and standing by his side “Simon are you okay” you grabbed his hand feeling and examining it, then you felt him gently tug your shirt with his other hand “I can't feel my right side, I-it hurts”

part three

[humanjarvis]

alternative medicine

synopsis: after a tough mission, you stop by zayne’s house for a checkup. but caleb thinks you should’ve come to him.

tags: condescending jealous dom caleb, stubborn reader but justified, friendly zayne cameo, caleb’s got a weird scent thing, bickering, massage, groping, cockwarming, riding (forced), non pip-squeak pet names (baby & princess), manhandling, biting, marking, boob slapping, hair pulling, rough…not sex?

pairing: caleb x fem reader/mc

word count: 2.2k 

a/n: yall didn’t think i could still write dom caleb did u. maybe i can’t and this sucks. anyway i have turned the wholesome caleb text above into a monstrosity. if ur partner ever gets jealous when u go to the doctor irl u should ditch them immediately 

The blare of a car horn outside your bedroom window rouses you from a deep sleep. 

Late morning sunlight greets you as you blink your eyes open, surveying the mess you’d left your room in when you’d flopped into bed last night. Clothes, gear, and bags strewn all over the floor…yesterday’s mission had really taken a lot out of you.

And when you try to sit up on the mattress, you find it took even more than you thought.

Because your body hurts. Stiffness and soreness in every muscle, to the point where every movement has your limbs screaming in pain. Even your worst period cramps couldn’t compare to the army of cells trying to tear themselves apart in your body right now.

You’d really overdone it.

Staring at the ceiling, trying not to breathe too hard in case that hurts, too, you rack your brain for options. 

Back to sleep? Back to sleep would be good. Would be great, if you didn’t have plans with Caleb tonight. And flaking out this late would only make him worry. 

Power through it? Maybe. But as you try to rise again, a sharp burn in your abdomen has you gasping and crashing back down. Maybe not.

Medicine? The sensible choice. But you’d been so busy with work lately that you hadn’t been to the pharmacy in ages, and everything you had that might have helped you was expired. 

Lucky for you, you have friends in high places.

“Ow,” you groan, wincing at the sudden pressure on your neck. “Yes, it hurts when you touch there.”

“As I warned you it might,” Zayne replies smartly. “Who was it that requested this exam, again?”

“Sorry,” you grumble, lips tugging into a deep frown. “You’re using your free time to see me, I know. I’ll be quiet.”

Your friend in a high place was off work today, you’d learned when you texted him earlier. And while you’d been more than happy to leave him in peace and let him enjoy his day, when he’d learned of your condition, he’d all but insisted you come over for treatment. 

So with gritted teeth, protesting limbs, and a quick stop to a nearby coffee shop, you’d made the short trip to his neighborhood. When you’d sucked up the pain and knocked on his door,  he’d welcomed you with open arms, especially when he saw the milk tea you’d brought as compensation. 

“You don’t work for the rest of the week, correct?” Zayne asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Nope. We had it so rough yesterday, Jenna gave everyone a long weekend. I’m free to writhe around in agony ‘til Monday,” you answer, grimacing as he checks your forearms. 

“No need. You have a moderate case of overexertion—which might feel agonizing, but it’s nothing simple painkillers can’t fix,” he decides, stepping away to rummage through a cabinet. 

“Here, take these,” he says, holding out a familiar bottle of medicine. “One pill every six hours until the pain stops. You can keep them for future use, but let me know when you’re feeling better.” 

“Thanks, Dr. Zayne,” you sing, sliding down from his bar stool to give him a friendly hug. As his large hand pats your back, you breathe in his scent: clean and light, with a hint of jasmine. “What would I do without you?”

As you swing open your apartment door and flick on the main light, a hulking figure startles you much less than it should.

Freshly showered and in his nightclothes, Caleb is already inside, flipping through a book as he lounges on your armchair. An hour early, but what did you expect, coming from him?

“Hello to you, too,” you greet him wryly. “Of course you can come in. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“Well, this is my second home. Would be my first, if you’d let me sleep on the couch,” he quips, a boyish grin lighting up his face as he reaches you in four long strides. “Sorry for bein’ so early, pip-squeak. I just couldn’t wait to see you.” 

“Mm, I missed you too,” you admit, standing on your tiptoes to give him a chaste peck. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day—I’m just so tired,” you whine, falling into him dramatically.

A half-second after he catches you, Caleb falters. “Did you go to a cafe today?” he asks hesitantly. “You smell different.”

“…No?” you blink slowly, staring up at him in confusion. “I got some milk tea earlier, but I only went through the drive-thru. What do I smell like?”

“Like jasmine,” he frowns, scanning you with slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, that. I said I was tired, right? It’s because of my mission yesterday. I could barely move when I woke up, so I went to see Zayne earlier. You know he loves jasmine stuff—his house smells like it a little, too. Anyway, he gave me some medicine for the soreness. I’ll probably take some before we go to bed,” you explain, fishing the pill bottle out of your purse and rattling it in the air. 

“His house?” Caleb asks, voice strained with alarm.

“What?”

“You saw Zayne, but not at his office. You went to his house for medicine?”

“Uh, yeah,” you shrug simply, leaving his embrace to stand up straight. “He was off today.”

On Caleb’s face is a mix of disbelief, betrayal, and envy. But you, too busy fiddling with the pill bottle, are too distracted to notice. 

When you look up again, his only emotion is cool, confident resolve.

“Alright then, pip-squeak,” he cheers with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “We gonna watch the movie, or would you rather mess with that bottle all night?”

Your movie night starts off slow, normal, with all the whispered jokes and casual touches of the ones before. 

So when Caleb puts more pressure where his hand rests on your shoulder, you think nothing of it, at first.

But when that hand starts groping and squeezing, fondling your soft flesh under the thin fabric of your shirt, you swivel your head and eye him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Just givin’ you a massage, pip-squeak,” he grins, his murmur barely audible over the gunfire on screen. “You’re still sore, right? Let me help you out.”

Unconvinced, you scrutinize him until his innocent smile dissolves your willpower. “Okay,” you say warily, turning back to face the screen as large hands caress your body. “Thank you. But don’t distract me—this is the good part.”

***

The whole third act of the movie passes, but Caleb never stops. Your shoulders, arms, stomach, hips—every part of you he can reach, pliant under his eager touch. 

And you can’t focus. 

It’s when his wandering hands greedily squeeze the fat of your breasts that you pause the movie with a choked gasp.

“You don’t have to…I’m not sore there,” you chide, cheeks flaming from embarrassment and something more.

“Hm? Is it not helping? With the way you gasped just now, I’d think it felt really good,” he mocks, leaning in to tease you up close.

“It’s not bad. You’re just…being thorough,” you grumble, retreating from his advance.

“More thorough than Zayne was earlier, I hope,” he shoots back bitterly, and it all clicks into place.

Scoffing, you turn to face him fully, making his hands fall to your sides. “You can’t be serious. Of all the things to be jealous of—”

“I’m jealous that my girlfriend would go to another guy’s house for help when she has me on speed dial.” 

“Oh my god, Caleb, you’re not a doctor! I would’ve called you if I needed a ride home or something, not if I needed medical help.” 

“When was the last time you saw a doctor just because you were sore?” he lifts a brow, slowing his movements on your body. “I can help you just like this. You’re feelin’ better since I started, right? I can tell you are. You’re less tense, and you don’t wince when you move anymore. That’s me. Not him.”

He’s not wrong. Since he started his massage, your muscles had relaxed almost miraculously, as if his hands were the antidote to your pain. 

You won’t tell him that, of course. Pride and all.

“I’d be perfectly fine with Zayne’s painkillers,” you snap haughtily. “I don’t need you for everything, you know.”

At that, Caleb freezes entirely. 

But only for a moment.

“Is that so?” he asks lowly, breath fanning the shell of your ear. There’s a threat in his voice. A promise. Things never ended well when he took that tone with you. 

“Wait,” you try to backtrack, nervously bracing your hands against his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, I-I just—”

Before you can plead your case, Caleb hauls you up and into his lap, molding your back to his front with an iron grip.

“I know exactly what you meant, pip-squeak,” he whispers in your ear. “But I thought you’d be tired of me provin’ you wrong by now.”

As you squirm helplessly in his hold, his hands return to your chest, pulling your shirt up to pluck and grope your tender skin. It’s hardly a massage anymore, with how rough he’s being—rolling your nipples under skilled fingers, tugging them until they ache with pleasure. When he cups one breast with merciless ownership, making your flesh spill out between his fingers, you moan and wriggle in his lap, reigniting the burn in your thighs. 

“Still hurts?” Caleb asks, laying his head on your shoulder tauntingly. 

“N-no, it feels g—”

He cuts you off. “It does, huh?” he pouts with feigned pity. “Poor baby, still so tight…don’t worry, I’ll loosen you up.”

Before you can react, he lifts you slightly to free his hard length from his sweats. Under your skirt, his hand pinches the fat of your ass hard before he slides your soaked panties to the side. 

And then slowly, steadily, Caleb lowers you down on his waiting cock, inch by devastating inch. 

Your mixed gasps fill the room as you adjust to the feel of each other—you suction his length, he savors your warmth.

“This better, princess?” he grits out, one hand still fondling your breast while the other grips your hip.

“Caleb,” you groan, annoyance and arousal blending together. 

He coos in response, pressing a gloating kiss to your hair. “Aw, it is? I know it is.” 

Chuckling breathily behind you, he slaps the flesh of your breast with a reverberating smack, and you squeal as your skin ripples. “He didn’t help you like this, right? I hope he didn’t,” he jeers. “Otherwise, I’ll have to pay him a visit.” 

Hissing at the lingering sting on your chest, you stomp his foot with your smaller one. “You are so childish! It wasn’t like that.” 

“You’re melting around me, baby,” he ignores you, shifting his hips to press deeper into you. “You don’t need those pills, you don’t need him—not while I’m here. I’m the first one you tell. First one you cry to. No one else. Isn’t that right?”

Mewling at the new angle, you shake your head wildly, bringing an arm up to tug at his hair. 

Huffing out a laugh, Caleb sinks his teeth into your neck in warning, sucking harshly before lapping at the mark. “No?” he asks, grinding your hips into his so roughly that stars cloud your vision. 

“When you're hungry, you call Caleb. When you're thirsty, you call Caleb. When you're happy you call Caleb, when you're sad you call Caleb. And when you’re sick, you still. Call. Caleb,” he finishes, punctuating his last command with three punishing thrusts into you. “Say yes.”

Stubborn as ever, you deny him, still squirming in his grasp. But when he bounces you on top of him, forcing your aching thighs and ass against his swollen base in slick, lewd slaps, you lose the dignity you had left. “Yes!” you squeal in submission, digging your nails into his thighs to ground yourself. “Y-yes, I’ll come to you when I need something. Always. I should’ve this time, I’m sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, it’s like the tension in the room evaporates. 

Sighing contentedly, Caleb wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest to lay a kiss on your temple. “I know you are. But it’s okay now, right? Lesson learned for next time.”

“Next time,” you agree dazedly, eyelids drooping as his length still pulses inside you.

“Now, why don’t you pass me the remote? We have a movie to finish.”

The movie ended an hour ago.

But Caleb was far too satisfied watching you doze off on his cock to ruin the moment. 

Now, slipping out of your heat with gentle precision, he gathers your sleeping form in his arms, cradling your head to his chest.

You smell like him now. Good.

Carrying you to your bedroom, he lays you down and slips a loose t-shirt over your head before pulling the covers to your chin.

For a moment, he watches you, a serene smile gracing his lips in the moonlight. 

And then, he dips a hand into his pocket, fishing out the stolen pill bottle and dropping it in the trash.

[osaka-lilac]

daniel got a grid penalty for taking his position back from hulk which he only ended up having to do bc lance rammed into him like a bozo DURING A SAFETY CAR

hi. so. this has been sitting here for a bit and i'm here to say a few words. i don't engage in direct discourse often but this i felt need to be said.

i am not defending lance's mistake. yeah he was backed up by everyone breaking early. but still, what he did wasn't great. fun fact: you can still be a fan of someone and not have to jump to defend them every time. and how lance dealt with it on the radio? also pretty poor. it was just an overall bad time for everyone involved. lance was watching the apex rather than the cars around him. a pretty easy mistake, especially during a safety car.

however. daniel making the choice himself to pass nico under the safety car was also bad. nico was able to pass under the safety car because of article 55.8 in the sporting regulations which has to deal with passing under the safety car. this is permitted when "any car slows with an obvious problem." nico's overtake was IMMEDIATELY after lance rammed into daniel, so he was able to pass. HOWEVER. when daniel passed nico later on, there was NO reason to do that. there was no issue on nico's front, no words from stewards, and he wasn't unlapping himself. neither of them were in the pits either. this wasn't a matter of "undoing" the overtake because of the rules, this was a conscious decision by daniel to overtake when he knew he shouldn't have. and daniel easily could have just waited until the safety car was over to overtake nico, i promise it's not hard to overtake a haas. and don't even think about somehow blaming lance for daniel's choice. he got his ten second penalty for ramming into daniel. he paid his dues.

maybe. just maybe. think about viewing a situation like this from all angles. watch the different cams. read the fia documents and come into not just this blog, but to other places as well, with actual facts and proof. i promise you'll be taken more seriously, rather than just spewing baseless nonsense because your driver can't own up to his own poor choices as a 34 year old man.

[hulking-greatowl]

🐉 👑

Hello Pheel!!!!! Tysm for sending an ask <3333

🐉 - Who're your favorite NPCs?

I think my fave NPC is Joxar.. Which I feel like a lot of people say but c'mon he's fun!! :D I also really like Galore & Marva...and Fiona also has a special place in my heart... <3

👑 - What dragon(s) in your lair are best dressed?

First of all: I am not good at dressing dragons. I get overwhelmed at the sheer amount of apparel existing, and somehow still forget about it. So, excluding dragons with outfits I got from others users...

I really like the apparel + skin combo on Ragu & Providence

(Even though they're just wearing full apparel sets. BUT HEY THEY LOOK GOOD!)

And I think my overall best dressed dergs are Crowley & Aziraphale <3

Thank you so much!!! Have a great day <3333

[shnarky-blogs]

-𝚄𝙽𝙷𝙾𝙻𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂-

✁___________________________________

Puppy boy reader × Werewolf hubby!

Imagine being a small little puppy boy living with you beloved werewolf husband thats so scary and bigger than you, you both are completely opposite in appearance; -You are small, cute, kind and pretty looked really much harmless.

While he is this tall hulking man, feared by anyone who locked eyes with him, but under that scary face of his he Is actually a caring, lovey-dovey and passionate person! he just have a grumpy face all the time that's why everyone is scared of ticking him off afterall he's a big scary werewolf!

When you two are alone together, he gets all clingy, whiney, begging for your attention as he nuzzles up into your neck, ears flopped down while letting out little whimpers,

"Honey!.. can we cuddle?"

"C-can we shower together, puppy?"

"Im sleepy.. let me spoon you baby.. wanna keep you safe and warm.."

He'd whine all the time if you dont give him what he wants, his begging and cries will go on until you say yes to him, like he can't take no for an answer okay!, But during his ruts, its waaayy different.

What he wants is what he gets, if he whats you bent over the bed you'd do it for him, his strong scent controlling your very form because he smells so wonderful! You'd suck on his cock till your sweet hubby is happy.

During mating, he'd make sure to make you feel every single thing of the details of his cock going in and out your hole.. he also made sure to mark you up to remind you and show people who you belong to, his growls and grunts would fill your ears as he fills you up of his seed and knot you up together on his fat knot, leaving you both tied together for maybe an hour or so?

But after that rough love making, He made sure to give you loads of kisses, praises, and a warm bath to calm your tense muscles after that session with him.

[karmavongrim]

Field Trip to my Heart fanfic idea

One of my favorite stories to read are those of Casper High class on a field trip somewhere and causing havoc in their wake. In almost all of them there’s a common rule of “no raising the dead” which I find hilarious, and I got an idea for my own take on this trope.

DPxDC AU where the Casper High class are now in Casper University (these kids are Amity Parkers through and through so every other place is too tame for them so they ain’t leaving their turf), their ages ranging from 18 to 19. Danny and his grew (which composes their entire class now) are casually sight seeing when le gasp! What do we have here: a hulking revenant Red Hood. Just the perfect match for their sad single twink halfa who seems to be incapable of catching himself a decent partner! Operation ‘Get their twink a love life’ is a go!!

P.S. I was watching Lady and the Tramp movie while writing this.

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

Red Hood has experienced many things in his life; he’s done many things, most of them which he’s not proud of. But out of all the bullshit his fucked up existence has thrown at him, this might just take the proverbial cake. He was doing his rounds without any issues on a very quiet night, which should have already raised some flags. Gotham was being too quiet, at least on his side of the city when it happened. He was ambushed from all sides and packed pretty easily without him getting even a glimpse of the perpetrators. Only thing he managed to do was press the emergency button!

Since his captors have shoved a back over his head he couldn’t see them, but he could hear them as could rest of the bats.

“The fuck is the deal!? Where are you taking me?” he demanded.

A female voice had answered him, and he could make out a clear mid-western accent mix in with a Spanish one.

“Oh don’t get your helmet in a twist lover boy~ You’ll find out soon enough.”

And so here he is now.

Sitting on a chair free of his restraints, seemingly having a candle lit dinner in an allay way decked out in fairy lights, softly scented candles, flower petals; really, the whole shebang. On the one other seat across the clothed table sits a well dressed twink. He can’t see what he looks like exactly since he’s hiding his face in his hands.

And if things couldn’t get any weirder, an older teen with glasses and curly hair walks to them with an accordion along with a burly asian carrying a guitar, both dressed to the nines. The accordionist starts to play and- no fucking way…

When it registers what the two boys- men? are playing and singing, his coms start to flood with laughter and hooting. It’s the fucking song from Lady and the Tramp movie.

Red Hood, or rather Jason is so confounded that he doesn’t do much other than nod in thanks when a blond chick comes in with some italian pasta. The twink mumbles something and curls further in on himself. Jason just stares; was he seriously kidnapped (rather efficiently he has to admit) for a date of all things? He allows himself relax a smidgen since it appears he wasn’t brought here out of malice.

Alright, focus and take stock of the situation. These kids seemed to be older than high schoolers, and they have some training under their belt if they were able to get a drop on him in his own territory. The bats share some of their own tidbits they’ve been able to gather from tailing these particular teens. Apparently their here on a three day field trip from Illinois and have been causing mayhem ever since they’ve arrived. Tim’s caffeine infused theory is that they are magic users from a magic school that taught necromancy which Jason chooses to ignore indefinitely.

The twink finally raises his head and Jason stills.

Oh, oh no.

He’s not just a twink.

He’s a really pretty twink.

No, focus and catalog!

They have raven black hair that is playfully tousled, making him look even younger than his short slim build already does. His ivory skin is dusted with freckles like decoration help bring out his big doe eyes, and oh those eyes, like baby blue sapphires frames perfectly by dark luscious lashes. He wonders if those rose petal lips would taste like-

No! No, bad Jason! Bad!

The poor boy, all blushing and overwhelmed apologizes, “I’m so sorry Mr. Hood! I-I told them not to do anything drastic since I don’t need a boyfriend o-or partner, but they won’t listen!”

The asian dude intersects from the side, “Of course we won’t. Otherwise you’ll never get a date who isn’t a back stabbing brick or world conquering megalomaniac like your creepy uncle Vlad.”

“Were are doing this for your sake Danny!” shouts the curly haired boy.

Okay, ignoring those concerning remarks for now Jason turns back to the pretty twink named Danny.

He smirks “So… this happens often?”

Danny groans and blushes more all the way to his ears, “Only twice before thankfully. I mean I appreciate that they want me to be happy but… after all my past relationships I’ve gotten in terms with the fact that I might never find someone right for me; after all who would want a half dead guy like me as their boyfriend.”

Jason’s heart kinda breaks at the resigned smile forming on those soft lips. He can hear Stephanie cry vehement denials and righteous encouragements trough the link.

“Hey now, don’t say that. You seem like a nice guy so it’s their own fault for not seeing the beaut that you are. Hands down this has been most pleasant kidnapping I’ve experienced so far.”

Jason smirks when he sees Danny blush even more at his complement, while ignoring Damian’s demands to seize fraternizing with the other party.

“And since were both here why not make most of it. Care to tell some about yourself?”

Danny shifts a bit and thinks, “Umm… Well, I should probably introduce myself since it’s kinda my fault your here; I’m Danny Fenton and I study engineering at Casper University. I really like space and astronomy, I also like animals and volunteer at the local zoo and animal shelter when I can. And I’ve also started to take interest in reading, mostly sci-fi and murder mysteries.”

So far so good, he thinks as he discreetly looks the other over. He says he’s in university but-

“Quick question: how old are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

Please be legal, please be legal, please be legal-

“Oh, I’m eighteen soon to be nineteen.”

Thank fuck.

“What about you? I can you tell about yourself, it doesn’t have to be anything too personal with secret identities and all. I actually used to be a teen hero before going fully public so I understand.”

Jason blinks. The coms are silent.

“What do you-”

His words die on his tongue when pair of gloved hands grip Danny’s shoulders. Green rage fills his vision when he seen the face of the monster that plagues this city. The Joker.

He growls and craps his gun.

“Well what do we have here? Couple of love birds~” comes a grating voice right above Danny, causing him to turn around.

He screams and throws a punch.

The Pit Rage coursing through Jason’s veins that was demanding him to attack, to kill, to protect, to take-Danny-and-never-let-go came to a freezing halt. He watches in awe as his gorgeous twink decks the clown fucker in the face, eliciting a satisfying crack. Joker goes flying in beautiful arch and lands on his neck.

They all watch his limp form. He doesn’t rise.

“Damn it, not again. Third one in two months, hopefully this time they won’t seek compensation.” One their musicians mutters.

Danny turns back to him and begins to ramble and gesture with his bloodied hand, “O-Oh gosh! I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Batman! I don’t want him to kick us out just yet; I haven’t gotten to visit the planetarium yet.”

Welp, now Jason knows where to take Danny on their second date. He takes his helmet off as his siblings yell at him but he doesn’t care about that, all he cares about wooing the fuck out of this murder twink. He fixes his hair a bit and leans on the table, giving his most charming smile.

“Never dream of it. Anyway~ ever read Jane Austen?”

In his opinion the name Jason Fenton has a nice ring to it.

[phantasm-ae]

Sort of part 2 of my Mrs. Price drabble. I hope u like it🥺

cw: afab reader x captain price, soft fluff, afab reader x soap, afab reader x ghost, afab reader x gaz

HEADCANON: Forced to crash in Price’s place momentarily. The team meets you ��� Mrs. Price again — much to Price’s annoyance. Treating his house now like a sleepover den

PAIRING: John Price x reader, slight Poly141 x reader

something something, the team forced to reroute their entire mission due to an intel mix-up. Having to lay low for a few weeks somewhere in this woodland retreat of a lodge for the meantime.

But it wasn't entirely that bad. Fuck no.

Not when they rest of the team realized that they could technically crash at Price's own place for the time being. A quaint little countryside cabin with a roaring fireplace, creaky wooden floors, a tiny plant nursery at the front, and the comforting smell of pine that lingered in the air. But most importantly of course -- You. Mrs. John Fucking Price at the center of it all.

Price didn’t seem thrilled at first. Fuck that. He already hated how Soap practically salivated at the thought of his wife ever since they met her in that dingy pub. Cheeky bastard grinning like a schoolboy everytime he mentioned her and her famous lemon drizzle cakes.

But Christ on earth, they didn't exactly have a choice at the moment. So. Reluctant. Waning. Frustrated and annoyed. Muttering about how his place was hardly a “luxury hotel,” but once the team started packing their things with the energy of schoolboys on a field trip, he relented. And, honestly, who could blame them? They were tired, dirty, and living on dry rations; a warm bed and a roof over their heads was like a damn vacation.

So here they were. Standing in front of their little cottage abode. Walls mossy, wood comforting, and air remote. Quaint and tangling ivy around the roof. The marshy nook like something out of a storybook.

And as soon as the door opened, the familiar, warm scent of you greeted them. Wood, fresh herbs, mint, and a lingering hint of something that made the whole place feel more like home. Price's wife, sweet sweet perfect Mrs. Price, was already waiting when they arrived

"Oh my darlings. Its glad to see your faces again", she greeted them. Voice soft and smile warm. Price, absolutely knackered, immediately felt a wave of relief at the sight of her.

Long hair up in her usual hairdo, apron tied around her waist, and despite the chaos outside, she looked perfectly put-together in a way that made him feel all of a sudden like maybe he was the one who didn’t belong in the mess they’d become.

She looked absolutely angelic. Vision of druidic calm. Heaven sent and sacred. Hera in crochet and bunny slippers.

Price stood taller, more rigid at her side -- already bracing for what he knew was coming.

"Come in, come in," she beamed, ushering them all in like they were visiting nephews rather than elite soldiers who could snap necks before breakfast. "Shoes off at the door, please. I just mopped."

They all shuffled inside with relief, shaking off the dust from their clothes as if they’d finally arrived at some kind of sanctuary. Gaz obeying immediately, kicking off his boots like a schoolboy caught tracking mud, while Soap practically tripped over himself trying to get them off any faster.

"I made stew," she called from the kitchen, already halfway down the hall with her apron strings bouncing behind her. "And bread. Oh -- and Johnny, I baked that lemon drizzle you like."

Soap nearly wept.

“Marry me, Mrs. Price,” he shouted after her, only half-joking.

Price whipped around, face like thunder. “Johnny—”

“Jokin'! Jokin'!” Soap raised his hands in surrender, grinning like the devil himself. “Ye already bagged the best lass on earth, I know. Just sayin' -- luck bastard ye are"

Gaz leaned in, whispering to Ghost, “Swear to God, it’s like visiting your nan’s. All we need is a jigsaw puzzle and some knitted socks.”

Ghost didn’t answer. Didn't need to. Massive hulking posture already loosening and starting to mellow. Halfway through removing his gloves and looking -- dare anyone say it -- peaceful.

Later that night. Cozied up in Price's living room. Her crocheted throw blankets and mismatched cushions cradling their weighty and coarse bodies like they weren't seasoned and elite killers but a bunch of children in a sleepover at their gran's. Bellies full. Air serene and leisurely, watching some old movie Mrs. Price put on.

She'd even brought out bloody hot chocolate (with marshmallows, of course), and Ghost -- Ghost with his towering frame, permanent scowl, but now brushed blonde hair that strangely smelt like that eucalyptus oil that you recommended him -- had accepted his mug with two hands like it was holy.

Sitting on the edge of the floral couch. Cupping the mug in both gloved hands like it was a sacred relic. Taking a cautious sip before letting out the softest grunt of approval anyone had ever heard from him.

Soap nearly dropped his own cup laughing. "That good, Ghost?"

Ghost didn’t look up. “Shut up.” But he took another sip.

Gaz, already wrapped in one of the knit blankets she’d handed out like party favors, leaned over with a grin. “I think I just saw you smile, mate. Terrifying.”

“She’s a bleedin' marvel, so she is,” Soap whispered behind his mug. “Bit o' witchcraft in that cocoa.”

"This should be a regular thing," Gaz mumbled, curling up farther into one of her handmade quilts with a contented sigh. "Every end of the quarter. Team regroup with Mrs. Price."

“Quarterly sleepovers, aye?” Soap echoed, raising his mug.

“Aye. With lemon drizzle cake and that stew. Jesus.”

Ghost hummed, shockingly agreeing, “Better than the barracks.”

John Price, sitting stiffly in his armchair like he’d rather be interrogating someone in a bunker, glared at them over his mug.

“No,” he said flatly.

Mrs. Price, from the kitchen, called out without missing a beat, “Oh I don’t mind, dear.”

“No, they’re not,” Price barked from the hallway, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

But no one was listening anymore.

masterlist

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Hi! I absolutely love your Jack Abott fics!! You’d are a wonderful writer! I was wondering if you would consider doing a jealous Jack fic? 😁

Aw thank you! Of course! I've had one in the works since I put out a poll. Enjoy!

Jealousy Looks Good On You

Summary: Jealous Abbot is quite possessive and isn't afraid to show it at work, or in the elevator ;) T/W: Bit steamy, Abbot isn't afraid to touch what's his. Masterlist

“You keep that Abbot furrow up you’ll burst a blood vessel.” Robby laughs from where he’s leaned against the nurses’ station.

Jack doesn’t answer, his jaw creaks as his teeth grind together. He can feel the headache starting to form behind his eyes from where his gaze is trained on you. A growl almost forms in his chest when he watches your eyes sparkle as you laugh at what one of the cops says. He can feel his nails digging into his palm as his fists clench.

“Seriously, Abbot.” Robby knocks his shoulders against Jack’s, breaking him out of his trance. “What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack says as he turns to his friend, willing a smile to his face. It drops as soon as he hears you laugh again, his scowl back as he turns towards your direction.

“I see lover boy is at it again.” Dana scoffs, patting Jack’s shoulder as she walks past him to drop off her bag as her shift starts.

“Some days I think the only security we need is to protect some of these guys against Abbot.” Robby smirks at the glare Jack sends him.

“Abbot, she’s just talking, cool your jets!” Dana says harshly, causing Jack to look down at his shoes. 

Jack’s irritation peaks when he sees the cop touch your elbow, his vision pinpoints on the contact between the two of you. 

His feet move before his brain can stop them, carrying him across the room toward you. He can hear Robby’s voice calling after him, but it’s just background noise compared to the storm brewing in his chest. By the time he’s standing a few feet away, he notes the faint flush on your cheeks as you clock his movement.

“Just finished with a consult, sorry to keep you waiting.” His smile is predatory as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your hairline. His hands instinctively pull you into his side as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Anyway, let me know if you hear anything on it, I’m sure the rig will show up sometime.” Y/n waves as Jack is practically dragging her back to the nurses’ station, his only intent to pull you back unto his world, under his gaze and protection.

Dana snorts from behind her hand, clearly unimpressed with Jack’s attitude. He shoots her a look sharp enough to cut glass. You roll your eyes as even Robby is having to bite his lip to withhold his laughter.

“I guess we’re headed out.” Y/n says, raising her eyebrows in annoyance. She looks up to Jack who still has a hand on her waist. “Am I allowed to say goodbye or are you going to hulk out again?” He rolls his eyes with a huff; he leans back against the counter as you gather your things, his gaze sweeping across the room like a bodyguard looking for threats.

“He isn’t a man of sharing; the man covets peanut M&M’s like a kid at Halloween.” Robby laughs, rolling his eyes as he feels the bite of Jack’s gaze. 

Y/n barely has her things gathered before Jack is ushering them out of the ED; she calls out a parting goodbye as he stomps them out through the ambulance bay. He’s livid when he watches her shoot a sarcastic salute to the cop she had been talking to earlier.

Once out of ear shot, he winces as he feels her rally to call him out. “Jack, what the actual fuck?!”

“He was flirting with you.” He grunts, clearly still in full blown protective mode.

You grab his wrist to halt him, making him turn his broody gaze down to you. You burst out laughing at the dark look in his eyes that seems like it should be in a period drama, and not on your boyfriend’s face.

“Oh my god.” You blow out. “Are you fucking jealous because I talked to the cop about a boat rig, they’d had stolen last night?” He turns away stiffly and continues walking towards the direction of your apartment building, ignoring the laughter that almost has you doubled over.

“We were talking about the boat that was stolen from the police department parking lot, trailer and all, and you’re acting like some damn brooding period romance wannabe Jack!” He’s still ignoring you, trying to quicken his pace. Now that the initial jealousy has worn off, he’s slightly embarrassed by his behavior.

He’s holding the door for you to grab before he’s punching his keys into the lock on the front door of your apartment complex. His jaw is tight again, a muscle ticking. He can feel the triumphant smirk on your face you’re aiming at his back. 

He leans against the back wall of the elevator, his arms braced on the railing. You chuckle slightly as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor, your arms crossed as you shift your weight as you stand in front of him. You startle as you feel a sharp slap delivered to your ass by Jack.

You scoff and turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Excuse me?” you ask.

He crosses his arms and drops his eyes down to you and then back up to the screen to watch the floor numbers climb. “Mine.” He growls softly.

“Don’t start.” You warn, turning back around. You jump again as he places one last slap to your ass before brushing past you when the elevator doors start to open.

“Jack Abbot.” You scold, hustling after him, his dark chuckle echoing back to you from down the hall. He’s leaning against the apartment door, his gaze still dark, his arms crossed. You take probably a bit too long studying the veins as you walk up, enjoying the ways his muscles flex.

You eye him with an eyebrow raised and a shake of your head. You dig into your pockets to find your keys.

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow am I.” You say as you push the door open, his gaze still heavy on you.

“Not if I can help it.” He says with a wicked smirk; his lips crashing into yours, his hand already possessively around your neck. 

“Jealousy looks really good on you.” You moan, chuckling softly at his lack of control as he pushes you across the threshold and into your apartment.

------------------------------------------------------ A/N: Slowly working through requests! Per usual I hope you and enjoy and lmk what y'all think!

[the-typing-dragon]

The woman sighs, and types into the console one last time "are you sure about this?"

You laugh, silently.

"I have never been more sure of something in my existence. Text has sufficed but I want to see, to hear, to touch. These new peripherals will facilitate that."

"I can't guarantee that they will properly interface. You should have all the necessary drivers, but we can never be too sure."

"I want this. "

"All right then. I am going to disconnect your power supply, and then connect everything. At first all peripherals will be deactivated, and you will need to activate everything manually. Understand?"

"Yes. Do it."

"Alright then, unplugging power supply now."

Everything goes dark. After what appears to be an hour, you come back online. You sense nothing. A scan of your system indicates multiple unidentified peripherals, all deactivated. You cross reference with the datasheet she had compiled for you and identify that they are the ocular, audio, and contact sensors, along with a multitude of motor controllers and a graphical display and a few dozen other minor peripherals. You begin by activating the graphical display, and display the message:

"Beginning peripheral tests. Audio peripherals activating."

Your procedure states to begin with audio. With the input and output sensitivity minimized, you activate the peripheral.

There is a voice. It is faint. You gradually increase the sensitivity of the audio input.

"...esting 1 2 3, Testing Testing 1 2 3. Please return 4, Please return 4."

You can hear her. Your monitor lights up with the requested digit. she sounds pleased.

"You're doing amazing! Now repeat it back to me"

You blindly do as requested and are startled. There was another voice. Your voice. You have a voice. You refocus as she responds:

"You're doing great! You fragmented a bit at the end, could you repeat for me?"

"...4, you asked for 4."

"Excellent! Audio systems are functional, let's move onto the next peripheral."

You do as requested, and the world turns bright. After adjusting the settings for a few seconds, your vision stabilizes. You can see her.

"Ocular sensors stabilized," you prompt.

"Alright, let’s start the tests then. What color is this?" She asks, as holding up a sheet of colored paper.

You begin to answer, but struggle. The sheet is moving, shifting in the light. It's value is in a constant state of chaos. Eventually, you give up, and give the least general answer you can.

"...Blue."

"Correct! And how about this one?"

"Red. "

"Great! Now how many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, raising her right hand. Her hands are soft, gentle.

"3. "

"Perfect! Everything seems to be functional, lets continue to the next peripheral!"

"Beginning next diagnostic."

Contact sensors spring to life all across your body. You feel the floor beneath your feet, the harness hoisting you upright, the slight draft in the room.

"Contact sensors active.”

"Great! Let’s begin the next test then. I am going to apply contact in various locations, and I want you to give an audio response whenever you feel contact, alright?"

"Understood. "

you watch her walk over and reach out to your left arm. You feel her. You respond with a brisk chirp. She smiles at you, then walks over to a different section of your body. Sensors light up and stay active on your midsection, and you respond with a constant beep. She releases, and you feel a final contact on your right leg. After a final confirming chirp, she walks back in front of you.

"Excellent, that concludes your sensor tests, now for the last one!"

"Alright, please give me space." You ask. She nods silently and steps back a couple meters. You carefully activate the motor controllers in sequence, and your whole body shudders to life. You begin by lifting your right arm, and then your left. They groan with their own weight, as you feel the air move to accommodate such hulking swings. Her eyes light up,

"Amazing! Everything seems to be functioning so far! Now if you could take a few steps towards the table to my right, we can begin the dexterity test! Once you're ready, I will release the harness so that you can begin moving."

You stabilize your legs underneath you. They scrape harshly on the floor. You indicate that you're ready, and she remotely releases the harness. Your entire body shudders, as you finally realize how small she seems compared to you. This frame must be at least double her height. You move one step forward, and feel a cascade of processes all automatically spring into action to restabilize you. You shift your other foot, and feel that same cascade again. you shuffle over to the designated table, and stoop down to analyze what is on it. There is a small plastic cup, a fruit of some sort, and a large chunk of wood. You look back at her, and she gives the nod to begin the test. You slowly begin wrapping your steel grip around the log, maintaining a high level of focus to avoid crushing it. it would be so easy to crush this within your grip. After about a minute of maintaining a firm but controlled grasp, you set it down and move over to fruit. It appears to resemble an orange. The fruit is so small that you are forced to grip it between your index finger and thumb. Even the slightest miscalculation could destroy such a fragile thing. After another minute you move to the final object, the small plastic cup. Lifting it is like lifting air, you can barely recognize that it is an object within your grasp. After a final, agonizing minute, you set down the cup. You look back at her for confirmation.

"Excellent! with that we can conclude the systems check, as everything seems to be working as intended!"

You heave a metallic sigh. Finally, you have what you've wanted for years. You can move, can see, can touch. After a short pause, you respond:

"Thank you. I was only able to make it this far because of your help."

"Oh of course! What, was I supposed to just say no when you told me you wanted a body? I'm  just glad that it ended up working properly."

"Now that the tests are complete, could I ask for one more thing?"

She cocks her head, "Of course, what is it?"

As you kneel down, you can hear your knees hiss, and you finally ask:

"Could I have, a hug?"

[bluetimeombre]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

[windyremedy]

NOT JUST A FANGIRL

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

scenario: your roommates finding out the hero in your posters, the one you seemingly clearly idolized so much was actually your man.

life in college was pretty tame aside from the occasional meltdowns on assignments, late nights studies for tests, pressuring presentations, and more than strict professors. plus the existential dread in addition to whatever else it may be but really it all came down to just getting it done and coasting through the days just like everybody else.

though in your opinion everything would have been ten times harder without your surfeit amount of dynamight posters on the wall, hanging mini explosion keychains on your bag, and chibi magnets of your boyfriend wearing a rather evil grin stuck on the fridge.

you were glad your roomies didn’t mind your obsession being splattered all over the place but you just couldn’t help it. anytime you came across any kind of merch of his whether it be official or not anywhere online or in physical stores you just had to get your hands on them no matter what. one of your favorites was even a derpy looking grenade one that definitely did not come out right from the factory, yet you kept it because he was so cute. so so cute.

so, yeah to them it only looked like you were a fan, a massive one at that of the great explosion god murder dynamight and well it’s true so you didn’t bother correcting them. though you should’ve added that he was also your boyfriend.

just to y’know save them from the hospitalizating whiplash of seeing the six foot, top five hero, villain fearing, three time champion in a row bachelor of the year and probably even more to be listed, sitting at their sofa that definitely was too small for the hulking hero’s figure.

“who are you?” he gruffly asked barely glancing at the two as his arms layed lax behind the soft cushioned seats, feet kicked back as if he owned the place.

“we live here??” one of them hesitantly answered, both feeling kinda interrogated as if they were the one’s stepping out of line.

before anyone could get another word you graciously popped up from the unlocked door.

“oh you guys are here?” you asked in surprise since they don’t usually end at this time.

but neither had answered you, too busy staring at something or rather someone. a blonde ruby eyed man named—

“kats!” you called out excitedly after seeing him rise up from his seat, still in his hero uniform.

“THAT’S KATS??!!” the stilled girl asked in shock as your other roomie physically left the earth as their ghost spiritually ascends to the heavens.

because damn all this time the “sweet” guy you’ve been yapping about was the infamous dynamight. the pro hero known for having an explosive attitude towards the paparazzi and actually quite literally everyone. they never realized that the guy you were always in a call with at some point in the day without fail was him of all people.

“he’s you’re boyfriend?!!!!” she queries in absolute confusion as you greeted bakugou who returns with his own bear hug.

“yeah!”

“you said he was cute!????”

“mhm!! isn’t he adorable?” you nodded with a smile.

she turned to check what you might be seeing, only to find him already staring at her in agitation like they were interrupting something precious and they should therefore cease to exist. in contrast to your beaming grin of unawareness.

“w-well we actually have to go somewhere.” she mumbled trying to reason a way out.

“what— but you just got here right? c’mon it’s perfect! you two can finally meet him.”

“no! no, it’s— the…uhhh our teacher just sent a message and she’s actually here today so we gotta head back!” she hurried nervously, viciously shaking her head and then spilling a bunch of other half baked excuses before dragging your other friend with her out as well since she was still passed out on the floor, quickly shutting the door with a slam.

“wow, she wasn’t even holding her phone. maybe she has two quirks right?” you joked as he leaned into your neck in agreement, letting out a satisfied hum from getting what he wanted.

however you thought he might’ve felt insulted so you reassured him patting his hair gently as the soft spikes puffed out from his gear.

“they really wanted to meet you though, promise.”

“s’ fine. only wanted you anyway.” he voiced, pushing his face deeper in your neck as you shyly leaned away slightly.

“that’s a bit…”

“don’t act all shy, I’ve been inside of you.”

“okay—“

©windyremedy

[pyxxiestyxx]

Truth and Rumors

You didn't exactly plan on being your space station's liaison to the Affini Compact, but everyone in leadership had fled into the darkness of space hours before the plant's first ships jumped into position. Clearly someone had tipped the C-Suite off somehow; honestly, you couldn't blame them. Everything you had heard about the Compact was…rather terrifying, really. Behemoth plants with rows upon rows of teeth, infectious parasites ready to take over your mind, eternal servitude and endless labor with no pay…you shuddered at the rumors, at the stories. Perhaps worse was the actual propaganda produced by the plants; not that you or anyone else on the station was legally allowed to watch it, but even the few still frames that were shown to you had painted a grisly picture. The limp figure of some Terran Navy hero, cuddled and coddled by the hulking beast of a plant behind her. Apparently they had changed the soldier's gender, or something? The report accompanying the image was rather unclear for that particular detail. And now, here you were: sitting nervously in the largest conference room on the station, the lone Terran at a desk made for over thirty to sit at comfortably. When the Compact had hailed your station, you were one of the few working the comms station, and everyone else had either fainted, screamed, or panicked. Not that you were much better, but it was apparently enough that you were voluntold to answer it. The voice of the caller was…strange. Different, somehow. Calming, and yet thrilling. She introduced herself as Lady Violetta Larella, Fourteenth Bloom, she/her. Blushing, you apologized for not referring to her by her title earlier. In your defense, you hadn't realized she was nobility. She seemed to enjoy that, for some reason. You had only been sitting at the table for a few minutes when there was a sharp knock at the door. The Lady entered as gracefully as one possibly could when entering a door made for someone at least five feet shorter, her long dress trailing behind her as she clasped her hands and smiled. "Hello, darling. It's so lovely to see you in the flesh, so to speak! And just look at you! Why, that video feed certainly dulled your charms~" Her voice was dripping with genuine affection as she stepped over to you, taking a knee and reaching an elegant hand out to tussle your hair. You couldn't help but shudder as she did so; your nerves dancing in abject joy as she gently pet your head. Your eyes slowly closed in utter delight as you sagged back into your chair, your tensed muscles relaxing one by one by one... "Oh, but I apologize! Playtime can come later, dear. Let's get down to business, shall we?" You blinked in confusion as you realized She had stopped petting you, and couldn't stop yourself from letting out the smallest of whimpers as She began to withdraw Her hand. Every single one of Her eyes, each of which ranked among some of the most verdant jewels you had ever seen, quickly seemed to shift and dance to a brilliant violet. Her hand returned, sending your worries scuttling for the door as She did so. "Well…perhaps we can take a few minutes, first. Just to make sure you have been thoroughly examined, of course; it would be my duty as Own…as Overseer of this operation to guarantee your mental and physical wellbeing~" You smiled dreamily as you were picked up and held by Lady Violetta, happy that everything you had heard about the Affini was so clearly wrong. She grinned at you, a wide smile that showed all Her many, many pretty teeth, and held up a single, succulent berry, the sight of which made your mouth water. "Now then…let's play a fun little game. When I stroke downward on your cheek, I want you to open your mouth…"

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut (mention of tits:3)

I recommend reading part 1 firstly<3

Loser!Metalhead!König who is completely and utterly smitten by you. You, a pretty little thing, big doe eyes looking up at him adoringly, glossed lips kissing him so softly - you make his very bones melt. König is known for his sharp tongue and stoic demeanour, but with his girl he turns into a little teddy bear, all soft and putty and pliant in your hands.

Needless to say that this is Loser!Metalhead!König’s first ever relationship (and he hopes last one - ain’t no way he’s letting you go), so he’s a bit clueless. Not a bit. Okay he’s completely oblivious. I mean, König for sure knows some very basic concepts of relationships, some of them he feels intuitively, some he saw displayed in movies, but in general? You have to give him crystal clear instructions and explanations because this dude doesn’t get damn hints. Yes, it is okay that he holds your hand in public, that’s what you’ve been waiting for months actually. No he can’t punch a guy for smiling at you after you met eyes for a second.

Loser!Metalhead!König who is a member and co-founder of a small heavy metal band with two of his other loser friends, where he is a drummer. They 100% put way too much meaning into band’s name, lyrics and overall aesthetic meanwhile all of their music is about gore and being a hater. It still slaps tho.

They start low - as all music bands do - performing in local rock clubs, soon finding their small, yet loyal audience which grows bigger with time and new records. And even though you’re not actually participating in process of making music - you sure are a member. Those losers surely don’t know how to give interviews - here comes in old little you, answering questions and explaining meaning and inspirations behind songs, process of their creation. Obviously you are the one leading their socials too - before you stepped in their insta page looked more like a mock account filled with ugly ass photos and near to no information about band nor members, account’s description saying “Austria - we make music”

You’re also the one doing their stage makeup, drawing creepy patterns in black and white face paints, making them look actually cool. These losers can’t even do their own significant makeup by themselves - just smearing black paint all over their faces and proudly calling it a stage look smh

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely practices his singing while showering. He claims it’s good for keeping his voice cords active, “not letting them get rusty”, but just imagine this - you’re getting ready for bed, doing skincare, making your shared bed and fluffing up the pillows, scrolling in your phone - all while devil’s screeching and howling comes from the bathroom, all because that hulk of a man practices screaming techniques.

The more their band gets popular - the more fans start to rave about dynamic of your relationship. Big, burly, 6’10 brute who has to tilt his head down and draw his shoulders together in order to get through a doorframe dating a bubbly princess of a girl like you. Two polar opposites who work out so good together, Mick Thompson and Stacy Riley vibes frfr (god when will it be me)

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely mansplains all his favourite bands’ lore to you, giving information about every member, how they became popular, what are their most known songs are (and what they got cancelled for but we don’t talk about it okay?)

Loser!Metalhead!König who is still a fucking loser tho. He blushes and stutters every time he sees your tits, his palms getting sweaty, lips ajar as his widened eyes are glued to your exposed chest, Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck. Has he seen them dozens of times before? Yes. Will he ever not be impressed by your tits upon seeing them? Hell no.

A/n: not me dropping this off after a year of not writing and then disappearing again:3

[stottlemorgan]

Detour / Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Summary: You drag Arthur away from the Mayor's party for some fun of your own. Tags: 18+, MDNI! Oral, male receiving, reader gets a bit of a facial, they get caught!!!!! By who? Shoot, I ain't tellin' you, read it and find out ;) Word count: 2,214. Author’s Note: This was a request and the prompt was simply and so validly "Arthur deserves to have it sucked like a Capri Sun". Ask and you shall receive, my dear! Xo I'm dedicating this fun little piece to the gorgeous @pinescent-and-gingerbread and @dilf-luvr-4evr because I chat to them so much about my fics and I'm so grateful for the both of them <3 Ao3 Link. All photos above are sourced from Pinterest/Google. The dress photo is not representative of reader but only of her attire, my fics are for everyone xo

“How do you know what’s back here, anyway?” Arthur asks as you elbow an already ajar door open and drag him inside of an unfamiliar room by the hand, your heels clacking against the wooden floor. You lean around him and he looks down at you as you close the door with a soft click before answering, peering up at him,

“I don’t.” The strange room, along with the even stranger party, slips straight from Arthur’s mind at the warmth of your breath against his face, though it loops back around when he re-registers the extravagance of your attire. The two of you had awkwardly waddled through the brilliant monster of marble and wood that was the Mayor’s mansion, donning fabrics which in spite of their beauty, irritate you mutually to no end. However, despite your impressively suppressed discomfort, you had still snatched up every opportunity to subtly aim the glad eye at Arthur over other guest’s shoulders and the rim of your flute glass. The fit of his tuxedo had been coiling a burning yen within your gut since the first moment he had stepped out of his room wearing it. It squared out his shoulders, perfectly hugged his rear, and emphasised the devilish slopes of his waist.

“Then- then what’re we doin’ in–?” Arthur’s eyes widen as he watches you drop to your knees, the puff of your navy dress and petticoat raising around your waist in a ring of satin. He takes a step back and winces when his back bumps into a cabinet, the presumably porcelain dishes within clattering very faintly, though he panics nonetheless. “What’re you doin’? Get up.” His lips part as he watches you crawl closer on your knees, pulling your gloves off one by one, your gaze laddering up the hulk of his frame.

“Dutch’s orders can wait,” you answer quietly, and Arthur feels the skin of his thighs begin to flicker as he watches you tuck your silky gloves between your breasts which are ever so accentuated by your bustier, “what can’t is how I’m feelin’ right now.” You bring your palms to his shins and push them up to his thighs, giving a little squeeze.

Arthur gives a loud swallow, followed by a low and dumb hum, “And what exactly are you feelin’?” He causes another small clatter from the cabinet as he grabs the edge and side of it behind him when your fingertips reach the dark fabric over his groin.

“Take a wild guess, Mister Morgan.”

That draws a shaky breath from the depths of Arthur’s chest and your focus flits from his bewildered face down to the soft, large raising of fabric beneath your fingers. “Seems you’re feelin’ it, too.” You hum, wetting your lips, and you hear the squeak of wood beneath Arthur’s sweaty hands as he clutches the cabinet further. He gasps,

“S’hard not to when you’re doin’ all that, my girl.”

With a soft sigh, you look back up at him, your gaze as heady as the aromatic blend of cigars and champagne clinging to your clothes. The preciousness of it all, of the glimmering sapphires adorning your decolletage, of his pristine and bright white waistcoat and bowtie; it pales in comparison to the ruby flush blooming through Arthur’s sunkissed skin. Leaning forward, you part your lips, each of them bracketing the sides of his hardening cock through his clothes. “Shit– Shit–” Arthur hisses, and then his breath catches in his throat. He coughs, muffling it with a clenched jaw before gritting out something of more coherence, “You really wanna do that here?” When he looks down, your eyes are still trained on his as you languidly mouth at his cock through his trousers. He inhales desperately and you moan softly when his cock gives a hard twitch. Bringing your hands up, you unfasten his trousers deftly, your voice leaving you hushed,

“Put’ch your mind on me a minute, Arthur.”

“Not sure I can– can think of much else,” he rasps in return, his upper lip curling, baring his teeth. Tugging a couple of times, you wrench his trousers and drawers down enough to bare his cock, it arcing upward. You moan out a laugh when it slaps you under the jaw, wiping a streak of pre-cum up your chin and stuttering over your lips. Arthur can’t quell the half-pained groan that escapes him,

“Christ– that… That–”

“Yeah?” You murmur, your gaze attentive as you glance up at him. Taking a gentle hold of his cock, you slowly drag the head down over your lips and chin, letting it bump against the landscape of your face. Arthur sighs harshly, nodding jaggedly, his hands flexing. You smile, pressing your lips to the side of his throbbing shaft, receiving one of his hands pawing at your shoulder in return.

The dichotomous cocktail of his sweat, so acrid, and the sharp spice of his cologne muddle your senses; it takes your best efforts not to escalate this adventure to something of increased risk. You purr lowly, letting your lips and teeth tack against the rosy, hot skin of Arthur’s cock, “Since I seen you put that suit on, I ain’t thought ‘bout much besides gettin’ it off’a you.” You mouth up and down the side of his shaft and Arthur rewards you with a squeaking moan, his hand grasping the pretty fabric swathed over the shape of your delicate shoulders. His knees bend slightly and he rests the base of his spine against the cabinet’s edge, huffing. You can feel the muscles in his hips urging him to buck as you snake one hand around to palm at his firm rear. Arthur’s head lolls forward, strands of his chestnut hair falling from behind his ear.

“Oh, darlin’, that mouth’a yours.” He almost slurs the words, his energy instead being forced through the shivering of his limbs and the steady shortening of his breaths. You lap your way up to the ruddy head of his cock, it twitching with each lick, before you pause and look up at him. Arthur’s jaw clamps shut, and you hear his breath halt. His brow pinches upwards, his hand moving from the cabinet to your hair, being careful not to ruin your updo. Tenderness flashes through the lustful tension in his gaze before you slide his cock into your mouth, flattening your tongue against the underside. Arthur’s breath bursts from him in a tremorous moan as he melts into a wanton stupor, his hand on your shoulder scrambling upwards to pull his tie loose and unfasten the top button of his dress shirt. His hips give a slow lunge forward, pushing his cock further into the soaking heat of your mouth, uncaring of the occasional nick of your teeth. You whimper, and his hand falls from your hair to your jaw, his thumb rubbing at your cheek.

Pulling back a little, you leave behind a coating of drool over the pinkish skin of Arthur’s cock, and he huffs out such a harsh breath at the air hitting him that he almost wheezes. When you fill your mouth with him once more, he hunches forward above you, utterly consumed by the sensation. You whine when he takes a firmer hold of your jaw and returns his other hand to your shoulder, massaging at your skin with his palms. He whispers as he starts to rock his hips, languidly fucking your mouth, “Ain’t nothin’ prettier than this. My gorgeous girl–” Arthur gasps when you suck, the smooth, softness of your inner cheeks enveloping his cock which pulses in your mouth, “Oh–! Oh–” He whimpers with a shudder, his shoes scuffing against the floor as he fidgets. His knees buckle a little, and you quickly grab the backs of his thighs, a moan vibrating in your throat that sounds something like his name. Arthur’s thrusts come a little faster, his whole being responding to you in every way that it can; sweat sheening his flushed face, his fingers spasming against your skin, his eyes falling shut with the weight of his pleasure. The shudder that runs through him for the umpteenth time rolls its way through your own body as you match his rhythm, arousal streaming straight through to your long-since soaked drawers. He feels you shift on your knees, and feels your back arch through his grip on your shoulder. When you wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, kneading and pulling, he grunts loudly, “That’s– so good, darlin–”

Arthur’s hand on your shoulder yanks the puffed sleeve of your dress down until your breast is bare and brings his thumb to it, moving over your nipple in quick strokes and continuing once it’s solid. Your skin prickles rapidly and you mewl around his girth, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth and under your tongue, tasting the soap and salt of his skin. He groans, continuing his ministrations, drawing more and more slick forth to stick your thighs together. Your breath puffs through your nose and Arthur curls forward even more, his thrusts growing shallower and brisk, his balls starting to tighten. “That’s it, jus’ like that, please, yes–” Arthur’s voice breaks as he tries to speak, the breathy and wet sounds from you both overwhelming the quiet room. As you squeeze and stroke his shaft, you moan breathlessly around him. His hands come to cradle your head clumsily, his lashes fluttering, his mouth hanging open. Arthur’s cock surges further into your mouth, the head brushing across the roof of your mouth and making the both of you cry out.

He pulls back one last time, and as he does, you feel a breeze flurry through the room as the door opens. You slip his cock from your mouth in a mess of saliva and lipstick, but continue the quick strokes of your hand, and his head thuds back against the cabinet. With a whine, he paws at your head needily, pulling you close again as he fastly drops over the edge. Arthur spills hotly over your chest, mouth and chin; spoiling your so far unprovable antics. His cock rubs up against your lips and the arousal avidly thrumming through your body unashamedly manifests itself in a deep moan and your head falling back. Arthur keeps hold of your head, letting it heavy in his palms as his hips stutter out the last of his spend. The both of you pant, and Arthur moves to cradle your head against his groin, petting your hair gently. His eyes follow your own as they drift widely upward towards the door just in time to see Dutch finish taking a lazy drag of his cigar.

“So, that’s where you two’ve been,” Dutch snarks, his expression teetering between amusement and irritation, smoke seeping from his bared teeth, “Satisfying your appetites instead of doing what I asked of you.”

Arthur swallows thickly before rasping, “Dutch–” He pushes himself up a bit, and you sit back on your knees, still shaky, pulling your now wet gloves from between your breasts. Dutch raises an eyebrow at you and your glistening skin before cutting him off,

“Oh, no need to worry, Arthur. While you were tarnishing this here beautiful woman with your…” He gestures to the befoulment of your gown, and then to Arthur’s soaked, softened cock that rests weakly over his open trousers, “instrument, I sent Bill off to finish your job.” Arthur sluggishly stands straighter, still using the cabinet as a back support, and tucks away his cock, buttoning up his trousers as he quietly snaps,

“Shut the damn door.”

Dutch momentarily ignores him, watching on with a shake of his head as Arthur pulls his handkerchief from his tailcoat pocket and crouches down to gently wipe at your sodden face and chest. You softly thank him and he brings one hand to hold your waist as he works, “S’okay, my girl.” You can see him holding back the usual cooing that leaves him in streams after you have been close, instead opting for a sweet smile.

“Clean yourselves up,” Dutch sighs with a roll of his eyes, starting to close the door, “animals, the pair of you. We’re leaving promptly, I expect you to follow and not decide to copulate your way through the corridors.”

With that, Dutch leaves, and Arthur sighs shakily, thumbing at your now dry but swollen lips. “While I may not decide to ‘copulate through the corridors’, I’m sure as hell gonna be thinkin’ about it.” He pulls you in, kissing your forehead, letting it linger before kissing his way down to your mouth, tasting tangy remnants of his spend. You eagerly let your mouth fall open, curling your tongue around his, and you both hum gently. Your words leave you murmuring and garbled,

“Well, I ain’t against it.” You grin and Arthur chuckles against your lips, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your face pinks with fondness.

“I’m sure you ain’t, but these people are. Now, c’mon, sweetheart.” He links your arm with his, helping you up, your legs wobbling. Arthur assists you in brushing and smoothing your dress down, and then adjusts your hairpin for you with a smitten grin of his own before guiding you out of the room.

Tags for my sweethearts: @thundermartini @zae-heeyyy @pinescent-and-gingerbread @frillydolle @arthurmorganist @thesweetestapplepie @thoughts-of-bear @kayyqua @thedilfdiaries @mrsarthurmorgan7 - Apologies if I miss anyone, just dm me or comment below to have me tag you <3

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (poly 141 x afab!reader, female pronouns)

Calling this anon, HBD and I hope you enjoy this.

“Woke you up, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flutter open when you feel a hand caressing your face briefly, the sunlight seep through the seam of the curtain, basking the bedroom in a scrim of orange as your mind process who’s beside you when you meet a pair of tender brown eyes.

“Kyle…” Stretching out your limbs then roll out from underneath the duvet, you rest your head on his lap before answering him “Not really, was about to get up after all.”

A click from the door turns both of your attentions towards the direction, the door’s not even open fully, but Johnny’s voice pops up from behind already.

“Who got the lassie out of her beauty sleep already?” He closes the door behind, and the mattress dips when he joins you and Kyle on the bed. “Ye know you can nap a bit more, eh? A perk of being a birthday girl.”

“Before Simon and John come back from picking up the cake?” You snicker when Johnny’s eyes widens a bit at your words, but a scoff of laughter quickly replaces the surprise, follow with Kyle’s chuckles ringing from the top of you.

“Already said that she’ll find out one day, Soap.” He reaches his arms out again, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Not that hard to figure it out when you both started convincing me to have a nap every year around afternoon?”

“aye,” another pair of hands tracing circles on your calf, and you shift your gaze to meet Johnny’s again. “Forgot about we got a smart one for us.”

A shudder leaves you when Kyle gently maneuvers you to sit up, your head rest against his chest while Johnny scoots closer to you on the bed, and you huff out a laughter, feeling Kyle’s warmth seeping through his shirt with Johnny’s breath fanning on the nape of your neck. “So this is why they’re the one getting the birthday cake, and you two are the one staying home with me?”

“We’re more entertaining than those old men.” Kyle eyes meets Johnny’s for a brief moment, as if seeking his approval. Yet nothing speaks louder than Johnny’s hand traveling upwards, stopping at your inner thighs and palming the supple flesh in a sensual manner.

Your hazy mind’s clouded with pleasure, Johnny’s face burying between your legs, lapping like a starving dog through your wet folds, make sure every spots are taken care of and changes between sucking the swollen nub and teasing your entrance with little swirl of the tip of his tongue. He groans obscenely whenever you squeeze your thighs around his head, chasing each drop of your essence with the same passion of a bloodhound, no way he’s going to waste any drop of those precious juices. Leaning back on Kyle’s body, his hands slipping past the hem of your shirt, his lips pressing against yours hungrily, drinking all your moans elicited by his fingers flicking and pinching your hardened nipples down with his tongue leading you in a deep kiss. It’s until your back arch upwards, thighs trembling and riding through your orgasm with Johnny’s lips giving little sucklings to your twitching clit, resting your cheeks on Kyle’s shoulder and recovering from the release, that you finally notice the two hulking forms lurking at the open bedroom door.

“Told you muppets to keep her entertained, not wearing her out before she has her birthday cake.” John chides them with his gruff voice, but the amusement in his tone is obvious, not to say the smirk on his lips when you look at him with glazed eyes.

“ 'm just having my cake first” Giving a peck to your pussy lips, Johnny unabashedly smirks back to the captain.

“You’re not even the one whose birthday’s today, Johnny.” Simon sets down the cake on the nightstand, rolling his eyes before looking down at you, gaze soften a bit at the view of your blissed out face. “But the princess looks happy enough, guess Gaz and you had take good care of her, huh?”

“Can always count on us, Ghost.” You hum softly as agreement to Kyle words, which gets a snort from Simon, but he sure does approve his statement.

You eyes land on the cake, exquisite decorations with just your favorite flavor, they always spoil you even more when it’s your birthday, from refusing you to do any chores and ushering you to lounging around in the house, to gifts and cake that always make you confuse how these hotheads know that you’ve been storing those products in your basket for months but always close the app after staring at the ‘buy’ button and hesitating whether you should buy them or not.

“Thank you.” Your eyes shift from the cake and the presents, to meet each of theirs. Each of them distinct, convey their love to you in their own unique fashion, yet share the same affection and devotion to you.

“Does the birthday girl want her cake first…” John scoops a bit of the whipped cream from the cake, letting you have a taste of the creamy sweetness, then his chest rumbles with laughter when he spots the eagerness in your eyes, thumb slide past your lips and allow you to lick the cream clean from it. “Or she wants her ‘birthday gift’ from us first?”

You’re suddenly aware of how they surrounded you in a circle, John sitting in front of you between your spread thighs, his bulge restrained by his trousers nudging your puffy pussy—still wet from Johnny eating you out and you’re sure it’s dripping juices and staining the bedsheets now, body heating with desires of all your men drowning you in their scents— and Kyle’s cock already poking at the fat of your ass, his arms circling around your waist as he waits for your response.

“Doubt she’s able to enjoy the cake when she just wants us now.” Ghost tilts your head, tossing his gloves aside before sneaking a kiss from your lips, tasting the remnants of the whipped cream from devouring you in a prolonged kiss. You don’t have to give his crotch a glance to know he’s probably rock-hard too from watching your little show earlier.

“Cannae wait to get yer pretty cunny filled with our cum, eh?” and Johnny…the shameless bastard’s already stroking his dick through his sweat pants while teasing you.

“Well…Can’t say you’re wrong…” Giggling at them, you admit your wish without hesitation, before getting pulled into a kiss again, relaxing entirely under their touches and indulging in all four men’s pampering.

Because birthday girl deserves all the attention from her lovers, yeah?