#it’s just one finger difference anyways-

[sophsbookstore]

Chicken Shop Date

Lando Norris x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word Count: 2,348

Y/N walks into the chicken shop where they're filming the newest episode of her and her best friends youtube show Chicken Shop Date. Y/N and her best friend Amelia have been running the channel for a few years now, both girls switching off taking turns dating different celebrities.

Today Lando Norris was to be on the channel, and Y/N was ecstatic. Y/N has always been a big fan of formula one, with McLaren being one of, if not her favorite team. The original plan was for Amelia to be doing the date, the girls always switching off interviewing every other date, but Amelia knowing how much Y/N liked Lando, trades spots with the girl trying to set her friend up.

“Ok Y/N, Lando should be coming round the corner in a few.” One of the PA’s says, kneeling next to Y/N who was already sitting at the table, wiping her nervously sweaty hands against her legs.

“Y/N are you excited?” Amelia asks her best friend, Y/N side eyeing her friend before turning her attention back to the empty chair ahead of her.

“You suck, you know how much I like him, it was your turn to go on a date anyway!” Y/N whisper shouts. Amelia laughs, giving her bestie a quick hug before going to her spot behind the camera. The rest of the crew gets ready as Lando and his team enter the set.

Y/N watches anxiously as Lando shakes the crew member's hads, introducing himself to everyone before coming over and sitting across from her. “Hi, im Lando” the curly haired man says, holding his hand out across the table for Y/N to shake.

She does so, blush creeping onto her face. “Im Y/N, but i'm sure you already knew that” the girl stutters out. “That over there is my co-host Amelia, which I'm sure you already knew as well..” Y/N says kicking herself under the table in embarrassment. Lando looks at the girl, the smile never leaving his face.

“Ok you guys, we are starting in 3..2..” the director holds up one on his fingers, putting it down as everyone gets quet waiting for Y/N to start talking.

“Do you like chicken nuggets and chips?” what a way to start off the “date”, Y/N thinks to herself.

“I love chicken.” Lando says to the girl, smiling slightly as his head nods with satisfaction.

“That's good, I do as well.” Y/N reminds herself that this isn't a real date, she has to keep up the unbothered, bored character throughout the whole video. This is going to be harder than she thought. “Did you know that chicken makes you more beautiful” Y/N can feel her ears getting hotter.

“Does it really?” Lando asks, feeding into Y/N bit. Y/N agrees with the man, nodding her head.

Just then one of the PA’s comes out and hands Y/N a Capri-Sun, she places one in front of herself and Lando. Lando stares at the bagged drink in confusion, turning his head to the girl in front of him, back at the drink, then to her again. “How did you know I like Capri-Sun?”

“because…I’ve..Been, researching you..” the girl stutters out. Way to not sound like a creepy stalker, Y/N thinks to herself.

“I didn't even know I was doing this until yesterday.” Lando says, trying to steer the conversation away, stabbing his straw into the hole at the top of the bag. “I just looked at my calendar yesterday”

“Really? I've known about this for a while now, I've been manifesting it actually.” Y/N taking a bite of a fry, putting on a confident act for the camera.

“So manifesting actually works?” Lando asks, fixing the hod of his sweatshirt.

“It's been in my diary for about 5 years, you just didn't know about it until now.” Y/N shrugs, Lando leaning forward with laughter.

Y/N quickly looks over at Amelia, the girl silently laughing at her friend's awkwardness. Looking back at the monitor Amelia notices her friend secretly eyeing her down, turning to face Y/N she gives her a thumbs up, silently telling her that shes doing a good job and has nothing to worry about.

“Are you into, like, racing and motorsport?” Lando asks, trying to capture the girl's attention.

“Oh yes!” this perks Y/N up, being asked about something that she thoroughly enjoys. “I love Formula 1, my dad is a really big McLaren fan, so growing up we all had to be too.” Y/N finishes with a laugh.

“Are you still a McLaren fan?” Lando leans forward in his chair.

Wanting to play hard to get, Y/N leans slightly back in her chair. “I would say so, yes.”

“Who's your favorite McLaren driver.” he asks with a smirk.

“Oscar Piastri.” Y/N says, her face void of any emotion. Lando sighs, frowning slightly as he takes a bite of his food in defeat.

The pair could go on and on about racing, having both grown up watching the sport, as well as having the same favorite team, the two continue talking. “You know, I've never been to a race before.” 

This perks Landos interest. “I should take you sometime. Let me know which race you want to go to and I'll call a few people.” 

Y/N almost chokes on her drink. Did Lando Norris just invite her to her first ever race? Lando Norris. Her celebrity crush, and the person she has been manifesting to have on this show since it gained its popularity.

“I would really like that actually.” Y/N blushes, not being able to think of a cheeky comeback for his offer.

“You know what, bring your family too, you said they were McLaren fans aren't they?” Lando smiles at the girl, Y/N only being able to nod in agreement and thankfulness.

Lando takes a moment to eat some more of his food, Y/N looks over at Amelia, her best friend silently screaming and clapping for the girl. Y/N is stunned, her eyes wide, her mouth making an “o” like shape. Y/N shakes off the excitement, knowing that she still has to finish the “date” before she can get too excited.

“I hear it gets quite hot in there.” Y/N says catching Landos attention.

“Oh yeah, it gets very hot. Yeah, sweaty-”

“It would be even hotter if I was in there.” Y/N says bluntly. Lando opens his mouth to say a comeback, but when his eyes meet Y/N’s he shuts up, instead the blood rushes to his ears and he bites his lip. “Agreed?” Y/N instigates.

All Lando could do was nod and smile, his face getting redder and redder. Y/N takes her moment, taking a sip of her soda for confidence the girl leans forward, giving Lando her full eye contact as the interview carries on.

“Are you a romantic person?” the girl inquires. 

Lando takes a bite of his fry, looking at Y/N as a smile creeps onto his face, he looks down at his meal. “When I need to be.” he looks back up at the girl, still smiling.

“Good to know.” Y/N keeps eye contact with Lando, taking a bite of her fry, the boy winking at her subtly, making her nearly melt off her chair.

The two continue to eat in silence, one of the PA’s signaling to Y/N that they're about halfway through with the interview. This saddens Y/N, she doesnt want it to end. What if this is the first and last time she’ll ever get to see Lando. No, he offered to take her and her family to a race. What if it was just a joke? No, that would be too mean to be a joke.

“What's your ultimate goal?” Lando pulls the girl from her thoughts. “Apart from like this” Lando says motioning to the cameras and food in front of them.

“To fall in love I guess.” Y/N shrugs.

“That's cute.” Lando smiles at the girl. If she wasn't sitting down she would have passed out in the moment. 

Y/N analizes is face, taking in how cute he is before mustering up the confidence to continue the interview. “What's your type?” the girl asks.

“I'm open.” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“What do you specifically look for in a girl then?” Y/N questions the boy in front of her, desperately wanting to know.

“Just someone who's funny, has Y/E/C, beautiful, has Y/H/C, you know?” Lando continues to wait, trying his absolute best to act nonchalant. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, racer, has brown curly hair, brown eyes, a brown hoodie on right now. Nothing much to it really.” Y/N states, matching the energy as Lando looks down at his brown sweatshirt, looking back at the girl and smiling.

“Good to know.”

“Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?” Y/N doesn't waste any time before jumping into the next question.

“I'm big.” Lando responds. 

“That's perfect, I've been looking for a big spoon.” Y/N casually says.

“I've never been a little spoon before.” Lando laughs at the shock on Y/N’s face, the beautiful girl in front of him making him clarify that he's never been a little spoon before. “We could try,” Lando quickly says to Y/N, both taking a moment to imagine such a thing before turning their attention back to one another.

“Do you snore?” Y/N questions the driver in front of her.

“Yes.” he replies bluntly, leaning his body slightly more forward.

“No, really? That's a deal breaker for me.” Y/N puts on a fake sad face. She looks at the driver in front her, his face dropping ever so slightly, but enough for it to be noticeable. “It's ok, we can work around it” Lando nodded in agreement with the girl, his face perking up a bit more.

“How far away do you live?” Y/N asks, not caring about how creepy the question can sound. 

Lando laughs, looking down at his food before looking back up at Y/N “I love in Monaco.”

“Shoot.” Y/N sighs, finally breaking eye contact with the beautiful British man. “I don't know if I can do long distance.” 

Landos face falls, his smile faltering to a frown. “Well that's no good is it?” the two fall back slightly in their seats. 

“Am I going to have to move out to Monaco? Or will you stay in England full time?” Y/N asks, forgetting this is just a playful interview, actually thinking about her hypothetical future with Lando.

“Hmmm.” the driver ponders. “Whatever you want I'm good with.” he smiles.

Y/N laughs, playing along she obviously looks past the camera toward her friend Amelia. “I think we might have to move chicken shop to Monaco.” Both girls laugh, Lando blushing at the idea of Y/N moving her whole life to stay with him in a different country. 

The PA looks at the pair, walking around the camera and sneakily handing Y/N a custom made chicken shop trophy. Y/N thanks the PA before holding the trophy up and looking back at Lando. “You may not come first in anything yet, but you are the first F1 driver to go on a date with me.” Y/N holds out the trophy for Lando to take, he “awws” in response.

Lando holds the trophy in his hands, looking down then looking back up at Y/N “hopefully i'm the last F1 driver you have on. I would say our date was pretty successful.” he smiles.

Y/N doesn't hide her blush this time, looking down and laughing slightly before refocusing back at lando. “Maybe, maybe not. We’re still waiting to hear back from Oscar.” 

The director yells cut. The rest of the crew and various team members walk about the shop finishing their own tasks leaving Lando and Y/N to their own. The pair get up from their chairs at the same time, now standing in front of one another.

“Thank you for this again.” Lando says, motioning to the trophy in his hands. “I really had fun today.”

“Me too, thanks for coming, even if you didn't know until yesterday.” the two laugh, a comfortable silence falling between them.

“Hey umm, maybe we could do this again, no cameras or anything. I'm in England for another week or so if you're free.” Y/N is taken aback, did Lando Norris just ask her on a real date.

“I- umm, yeah I would really like that. I'll give you my number so we can plan it.” 

“Perfect!” Lando smiles, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it, then handing it to Y/N. Y/N quickly types in her phone number, setting her contact name, and taking a picture of herself for the contact photo before handing the phone back to Lando.

“Well then i'll see you soon Lando” Y/N says, looking up at Lando, taking a small step closer to him.

“I'll see you soon Y/N” he holds his arms out, giving the girl a brief yet firm hug, before getting called away by one of his team members.

Y/N stands in shock. Recapping everything that had just happened since the director started filming. Amelia runs up to her friend, nearly tackling the girl with excitement. “What happened, what did he say?” Amelia interrogates Y/N, having witnessed their interaction from afar.

“I just got a real date with Lando Norris.” Y/N says, pulling out her phone to see a text from Lando with an address and time. It's official, her manifestation had worked and she was now going on a real date with the driver she's had a crush on since he signed with her favorite team. Lando Norris.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x reader

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

27 / 1.7k / spreading rumors about dating Gaz, part 2

⬇ nsfw; mention of revenge porn

...

Gaz doesn't negotiate. He doesn't back down. When the situation calls for it, he knows when it's time to escalate.

That's why he fucks you on your dining room table instead of a public bathroom. Partly because he's not a slag. The idea of you possibly agreeing to do it--of giving him the same ammunition you gave your ex to humiliate you--leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Even if you started rumors and risked his reputation.

A growl rises in his throat at the thought of your ex having the gall to send him that video of you. Christ. What on Earth did you see in him?

Partly, though, he wants to fuck you in your own house so that when he next sees your prat of an ex-boyfriend, he can properly rub it in that fucker's face that you invited him in on the first date.

Or maybe he'll take a picture of your panties in his teeth. He hasn't decided yet.

You're strung out with pleasure, your bare back against the table. You’re caught between wondering why he wanted to fuck you after all and letting every last reservation about it vanish into nothing. You’ve always wanted this. You never thought it would happen.

"Sergeant," you gasp out. "Is this-- what about your reputation--?"

"Don't start." His fingers trail the lines of your body, his eyes fixed on the parts of you he caught only blurry glimpses of in your ex's video. It didn't do you justice.

He wants to pretend there's nothing to this besides convenience--you did owe him. Hell, you wanted to sleep with him. You always made that crystal clear. Now he's just allowing himself to give in to baser impulses like a dog snatching up a rabbit thrown into its path.

But you're right. This will look bad if someone finds out. He should worried, but it's hard to care about that when the thing competing for his attention is the filthy way your pussy swallows him again and again, seeing how slick you leave the base of his cock.

He should've used a condom. He knows for a fact you knew he didn't and you said nothing. He'd tell you off for it now, too, but he's absolutely certain it would just make you cum. The nerve of you.

His hips stutter for a second before he can banish that thought from his mind. He shouldn't like the idea of you being that obsessed. Acting like you'd do anything he asked. Christ, work would be a nightmare if this got out. Him actually sleeping with you. But then again, he suddenly doesn't much like the idea of you finding a different rebound. You'd just be thinking of him anyway, right? Wouldn’t you?

Whatever. He’ll deal with the fallout later. When he's not enjoying your body.

“Who’s going to know?” he murmurs, eyes falling to your chest. “Let it go.”

“Mkay,” you sigh out. There's nothing more you want than to please him right now.

"You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you." It's not a question. You both know it's true. And he likes that--he hates admitting it, but he does. His eyes drop to your pussy again, and his hips pick up their pace.

You've spent months flirting with him, teasing him about taking you to bed. Now you're getting everything you want. He's right. Why would you care one goddamn second about the consequences? “Anything.”

He hates how needy you sound when you say that. You're too trusting. He's taking advantage of you. Don't you get that?

His grip on your hips tightens, pushing into you more and more roughly. Your moans rise in pitch and he has to grit his teeth.

“Good." He says lowly. "Then you won't tell a soul about this, will you?"

"But--ah, ngh..." You bite your lip as he stops thrusting and grinds himself into you. You gyrate your hips, needing friction. "But people already think we're together."

“Do they? That’s a bold claim.” You're overestimating how many people believe silly rumors. Besides, it's hardly your concern anymore. He lays his palms flat on the table on either side of you, bracing himself. Your skin is so soft; your neck tempts him, but he restrains himself. "You're keeping your mouth shut from now on, yeah?"

You let out a sound of frustration as he slows even further. You try to push your hips harder against his. "Sergeant, please!"

"You want this, don't you?" His voice is chilled, but the heat in his eyes as he stares down at your bucking hips is hardly discouraging. "You'll want it again. You'll keep wanting it."

"Ugh, yes," you snap, squeezing your thighs fruitlessly around his toned waist.

"As long as you don't tell a soul about this, I’ll see to it that you get what you want," he growls. "Not your team, your friends, your stupid ex. No one."

You open your mouth to question him again, but he pulls away and snaps his hips hard into yours. Whatever you were about to say dissolves into a string of semi-coherent affirmations. Yes, you'll keep it quiet. Yes, you'll pretend none of this ever happened. Yes, you'll never use his name on base again. Anything he wants. Just don't stop.

"Good girl. Good girl..." Easy enough. Now that he knows how to get his way with you, you shouldn't be such a problem anymore. He can’t help but be a little greedy, though. "You're not going to fuck anyone else, either."

"Never!"

He grunts in approval. "And you'll never--and I mean never --try to get back with your ex. Understand? You'll stay away from him."

You writhe and plead, winding your arms around his shoulders. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the table, the muscles in his arms taut.

"Do. You. Understand?" His voice comes down on you like low thunder, all around you.

"Yes!"

"Good. I'll know if you do. Mm…" His breathing grows shallow. Your heat is impossibly tight, and tightening up even more. He squeezes your wrists. "You going to cum?"

"C-Can I?" you breathe out. "Please, can I cum?"

His hips stutter and he has to close his eyes for a moment. God, he's never been tested like this.

"Sergeant, please!"

"Cum," he says, the word short and sharp like gunfire. "Cum on my cock. Right now."

He presses his thumb to your clit and you wail, clenching around him like you haven't cum in weeks. Your body rolls, practically convulses, your head knocking against your dining table as you arch up. He lets out a snarl, not slowing down despite how painfully tight you squeeze him.

Once you come down from the high, his pace never slowing, your swollen core twitches and spasms with overstimulation. You cry out, but you make yourself stay in place. You want to keep making him feel good. You want to make him feel better than he ever has.

"Cum inside me," you pant out. "I-I'm on birth control. You can-- please--"

"You're a liar," he growls through clenched teeth even as he picks up his pace.

"I promise," you plead. Even if you're a liar, and you are, you're not lying about this. God, you want him to do it so bad you can feel yourself clench up again at the thought.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm when he pulls out, spilling his load across your chest and stomach instead.

You clench down on nothing, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction even as your orgasm ebbs out of reach. You let your head fall back onto the table, your breathing heavy. You don't see his eyes running over you, deliberating.

"Sergeant?"

"Mm?"

"Do you maybe want my phone number?" Almost seems like a silly question. He has your address now anyway.

"Hm." He pulls away, picking up your discarded purse from the mess of clothes on the floor. He pulls out your phone and opens your texts, types in his number, and sends himself a quick message. Then he finds your conversation with your ex-boyfriend. His eyes narrow. The last texts exchanged were earlier tonight. And you started it. You told him you were out to dinner with someone else. Just to get a rise out of your ex. It obviously worked.

That's okay, he figures, opening the menu and blocking your ex's number. If there's one person he does want to know about this, it's that arsehole. Maybe now he'll stay away from you.

You sit up. "Kyle?"

His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. "Yeah?"

"Were you serious?"

"I was."

"Even about coming over again?"

"I mean every word I say.” He hands your phone back to you and begins to get dressed.

You watch him, grasping the edge of the table. "When will you be back?"

"My squad leaves on assignment tomorrow. Don't know how long it'll be." He zips up and grabs his t-shirt. "I'll text you."

"Right, right." You suppress a sigh. "Always got a job to do."

He slings his coat over his shoulder, then pauses. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but reach his hand out to your cheek. He runs the back of his finger over your jawline. Then he disguises the tender gesture by gripping your chin and pulling it up so you're looking him in the eye.

"Behave," he tells you, voice low. "No sleeping around. No flirting of any kind. Is that clear?"

Your heart pounds. You swallow and nod.

"Good," he says, holding your gaze a moment longer.

As he leaves, closing the door behind him, he curses himself.

This is not a good idea. What's he trying to do, fix you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn't going to end well. You're not good for him. But damn if he doesn't feel more satisfied than he has in years.

He has no choice. If he wants you to behave, he'll have to keep your eyes on him. Whether he’s on base or not.

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more Gaz / masterlist tag

#mine #story #fem reader #soft dom gaz #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz cod #kyle garrick #gaz Garrick #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #gaz smut #gaz x reader smut #cod smut

[somerandomdere]

Yandere! actor x crew member! g/n reader

tags: fluff, slight? yandere themes (duh), you can tell I don't know much about how hollywood scandal works, it's my first fic pls feedback

Fame was everything to Gabriel, it's been his whole life. He was a nepo baby, he has seen the cameras the moment he was born. Blessed with a good face, filthy rich parents, and a flirtatious personality, he was everything ladies wanted in a man.

Until everything came crashing down.

He got into a huge scandal he wasn't even aware of. He was accused of sexually harassing a fellow co actress, when in fact he never laid a finger on her. Sure, he was a well known celebrity and has a history of sleeping around, but that doesn't mean he will force himself on someone without consent!

The scandal got so big he was defamed everywhere. His sponsors withdrew, his parents and friends wanted to cut ties with him, and his girlfriend cussed him out before leaving.

It wasn't him! But at this point, no one believed in him. He started being depressed, having suicidal thoughts, and contemplating on quitting his dream career.

Enter you. Beautiful, radiant you.

After a long day of carrying heavy sets and helping out around the set. You were exhausted, so you went out to breathe some fresh air and smoke. As you lit up your cigarette, the main actor of your current show, Gabriel, seemed to be crying. You wanted to smoke, but you couldn't just leave a crying man alone! and you did want some privacy while taking a puff

"Hey... you alright?" You genuinely asked.

You didn't know much about Gabriel's scandal, since you weren't very interested in the affairs of celebrities and thought that fans should just mind their own business.

And you were just here to make extra money, what's the worst that could happen? You'll be gone in no time anyways. He'll just quickly forget you.

"Hey um..." You started awkwardly, and cleared your throat. "I may not be the best person that can comfort, but you can talk to me. I'll listen."

You thought he would be suspicious of you, because of his celebrity status, but he ranted to you and cried. How he was misunderstood. How the people closest to him never believed in him. How he felt so hopeless after he lost everything.

You reached out to touch his hand. You let him know you understood. How painful this period of life will be and how it will all be fine after.

You told him to take a look around him. Look through a different scope, see the people who actually cares for him. You told him how your uncle never believed any of those rumors and took advantage of this to hire him.

He teared up, not from self pity this time, but from realisation. Maybe he should abandon those people who never saw his true self anyways. For the first time, he looked into your eyes. The sunlight danced over your eyes, it reminded him of the warmth his parents used to give him, before they got too busy.

Maybe that's when he fell for you. He couldn't really point out when he fell head over heels, but he can kinda figure he feelings sprouted here.

He came back, stronger than ever. His acting caused your uncle's movie grossing to skyrocket. It hit the box office, everyone was talking about his movie through social media, how he so accurately acted his role, to the point they shivered. He decided to take this opportunity to clear his name. Due to the how overwhelmingly successful his new movie was, people decided to believe him.

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

"Y/N! My name was cleared!" He squealed into the phone. You sincerely felt happy for him and offered to celebrate with him.

He wouldn't let this opportunity go without a waste! He immediately said yes. He wanted to see your beautiful face again, and finally ask you out.

He will finally be yours, and you will finally be his.

@hana-no-seiiki

@lovverletters

@moyazaika

@yxami

@mightypossibly

@suiana

My inspos on how to write fics (and my fav fic writers!) PLS PLS PLS PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACKKK

#male yandere #male yandere cafe #yandere actor #gn reader #yandere celebrity x gn reader #first post #idk what else to tag #i'm actually shaking

[hanyacoded]

anytime, anywhere! megumi x reader drabbles, p. short

repost from old acc! reblogs are appreciated<3

megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

cws; none really, femcoded(?) reader, swearing, kissing, sus position but nothing more, idk. three different scenarios but one universe, this can be read as a standalone or a part two to this

wc: 574 total

writing below cut

when yuuji finds out that you and megumi are together, he almost screams. he's raving like a madman–saying everything from i’m happy for you! to what the fuck do you mean you're dating now, so i spent like three hours worrying for nothing? 

by the time he finishes, megumi has an awkward smile on his face, and you're laughing bashfully. but yuuji has to admit that side by side on the couch, the two of you do look cute together. he leaves soon after, saying something about giving the newlyweds space. maybe he also feels guilty about the fact that he accidentally told you about megumi's terribly intense crush on you.

and when you're finally alone, megumi lifts your linked hands and shyly kisses yours.

\\\

you yawn, pushing yourself upright on your desk. there's still a considerable amount of time until class ends, but you're pretty sure you're gonna pass out before it does. glancing behind your shoulder, you look for your boyfriend, megumi, only to find him staring back at you. he looks tired too, but when your eyes meet his face breaks out into a lazy grin–one that leaves you weak in the knees.

as soon as your teacher leaves the classroom, students pour out of the large classroom. you wait, and so does megumi, until the room's almost empty. it's then that he approaches you, picking up your bag with one hand as you get up. intertwining your fingers together, he kisses the side of your head gently. 

“so, what's for lunch?” he asks.

before you can answer, though, he's shutting you up already. “coffee isn't lunch, baby.”

you pout, leaning into his touch. “whatever.”

\\\

you flop down on the bed beside megumi, glaring at nothing in particular. you've been ignoring him for over an hour now, but he's just not getting the hint. you cough loudly. he still stares at his phone, typing something on it. you cough again, in a way that's clearly fake. this time, he bites.

“what's wrong?”

you frown back at him, silent. megumi raises an eyebrow curiously, turning to you. within a second, he's maneuvered you into a position where he's hovering over you, and you're on your back beneath him. 

“oh-” you gasp, surprised, but he cuts you off. 

“everythin’ okay?” despite your position being inherently sexual, both his voice and his touch are soft. you stare at the tv playing behind you, resolute in your mission to ignore him. he tilts your head up so that you're forced to look him in the eyes.

“hmm?”

“what date is it?” you demand.

“what?” he's confused. 

“what date is it?” you repeat.

“the fourth of february?”

“and?” 

“and?”

“and the 14th?”

“oh!” he falls back onto the bed beside you with a wide grin on his face. “should've just told me, pretty.”

you pout. “i tried.”

“naaah,” he draws out the singular word, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “telling me and ignorin’ me are two different things.” [im so sorry if ur bald]

you want to move away from his touch, but there's just something that keeps you from doing so.

“so,” he smiles lazily, “you gonna be my valentine or what, baby?”

the way he says it is just so damn attractive, and you can't help but blush as you nod. and when he pulls you into his arms, you hear the the words he whispers into your hair. “was gonna ask you soon anyways, sweetheart.”

#♡ hanya writes #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megu #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #megumi fluff #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu megumi #megumi #jujutsu kaisen megu #jjk fushiguro

[sissylittlefeather]

Hii!! I don't know if people are sending you photo prompts or you're finding them yourself but I've got one here🫠

🤭🤭🤭

Hi @jhoneybees! Yes, you did it right! Also, I really hope you wanted smut for this one because it got dirty QUICK. This picture is just so hot. I couldn't help it! Anyway, I hope you love it!

Welcome Home, Baby

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

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You're unpacking some of your clothes in the bedroom at Graceland when Elvis brings in the last of your boxes and plops them on the bed.

"Honey, these say 'bathroom', right?"

"You can't read it?" You walk over to him where he's standing next to the boxes.

"It's not my fault I can't read your toddler scrawl."

"Hey! I was in a hurry. Like your handwriting is perfect!" You nudge him with your elbow and he throws his arm around your shoulders.

"Yeah, but you're a girl." He turns and kisses your temple. "My girl. In my house now."

"I still can't believe my mother let me move in here with you. If you were anyone else, she'd die before letting me live with you before marriage. You're lucky she loves you so much." You turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist. He's sticky with sweat from moving all day, his sweatshirt marked with wet splotches, hair uncharacteristically messy.

"What can I say? I'm a lovable guy."

"That you are." You turn your face up and he lowers his lips to yours, pressing them against you softly.

"I just couldn't live without you here another second. Now we can finally be together in our own space. Just you and me." He leans in again and kisses you a little more deeply, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You can tell he's eager to christen the place as yours. It's not the first time you've been here, by far, but it's different now that you've moved in. There's a hint of future plans that has you both giddy with excitement. He kisses down your neck to your collarbone and rolls his hips into yours. You moan softly and run your hands down the front of his chest to the top of his pants.

"Mmm, baby, I need a shower first."

"You know I don't care. I like you salty." You whisper, nibbling on his earlobe. He chuckles and leans away, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and off. Now he's half naked and you want to wait for him to shower even less than you did before. The soft patch of hair on his chest drives you insane and you reach out to touch him. He grabs your hand with a devilish look on his face.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To the shower." A smile spreads across your face and his eyes light up. "C'mon."

His fingers go to the buttons on your dress and he has you naked in less than two minutes, dropping his pants and pulling you toward the bathroom. He starts the shower and lets his mouth and hands explore your body while he waits for it to warm up. His dick was mostly hard already, but now it's standing at full attention, pressing into your lower stomach. You climb into the shower together with you behind him as he rinses himself. You press your body into his back and reach around to take his cock in one hand. As you begin to stroke him, sliding his foreskin back and forth, he leans his head back and groans. Your other hand massages his balls and his hips buck forward into your hold. After a few seconds, he turns in your arms and takes your face in his hands, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. He runs his fingers down your front, grasping your hip with one hand and your breast with the other. As his thumb grazes your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. He leans down and pulls it into his mouth, flicking his tongue against you gently. Pushing you back to the wall, he gets down on his knees and presses his lips to your center. He thrusts his tongue into you a few times and then starts making bold circles on your clit.

"Oh, god, Elvis." You moan, wrapping your fingers in his hair. He slides a finger into you and pumps it in and out as he moves his tongue quickly on you. Your walls flutter around him and he knows you're getting close. He sucks your clit gently and then flicks it with the tip of his tongue. You dance on the edge of your release, your heart pounding as he dives in fully, licking your clit like his life depends on it.

"Come on, baby, cum for me." He says, his voice deep and husky with lust. You moan loudly as your climax slams into you, bursting out from your center to the edges of your fingertips. You shudder and pulse around his finger and feel him smile into you as his tongue makes its final sweeps over your clit.

He stands up, a smug look on his face. There's nothing he loves more than ruining you with his mouth and then watching as you try to compose yourself after. But this time, you don't even try. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him and take his cock in your mouth as deep as it'll go.

"Oh, fuck, baby." He stumbles backwards and slams his hand against the wall to regain his balance. This is the first time you've reciprocated with your mouth. Honestly, you have no idea what you're doing, but you figure you'll just lick and suck and move on him as long as you can, mimicking what you do with your hand. "Goddamnit..."

His teeth are clenched and his eyes roll back as you open your throat and press your nose into the patch of hair at the base of him. You gag a little, but his reaction is worth the discomfort. Pulling back, you pump him with your hand and lick a circle around his exposed tip.

"Baby, if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum in your mouth. My God." He still has himself braced on the wall, trembling slightly. You're trying to decide if you're okay with that when he pulls away from you quickly, standing you up and turning you to face the wall. He bends his knees and pushes into you from behind, pounding you relentlessly and holding your hips with his long fingers. You cry out with each thrust of his hips as he fills you over and over again passionately. He grunts and slams into you, balls slapping against your ass. You love when he gets like this, almost feral with need for you. Knowing that you've driven him this wild makes you throb with desire and his aggressive thrusting is exactly what you need. Your breasts bounce as he pounds into you and you feel his body tense as he groans.

"Fuck, yes, baby!" He cries out as he fills you one last time, shooting his release deep inside you. His legs shake as he slides out of you, stumbling backwards again to lean against the shower wall. You turn to face him and lean against the wall behind you too. You're both panting and sweating and the water is still running in between you. He starts to chuckle and you giggle a little and before you know it, you're both laughing, the sound echoing through the bathroom. He turns the faucet to make it run from the tap and begins to fill the bathtub. You both slide down the wall until you're sitting in the tub. He reaches out and gestures for you to come over to him. You do and then lean your back against his chest as the water rises around you. He turns the tap off and nuzzles your ear with his nose, whispering.

"I figured we needed to relax and recover."

"Ha! You were right!" He laughs his big booming laugh again and wraps you in his arms. You lay together in the tub, both of you still shaking from the feverish heat of your lovemaking. After a few minutes of silence, you start to relax. He kisses your cheek and sighs.

"Welcome home, baby."

******

The End

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x you

[sxcret-garden]

3rd Desire ღ A Little Jealousy [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ feat.: Yeosang & Wooyoung ღ words: ~4.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, clothed sex, teasing, tiny bit of finger sucking (idol receiving), oral (idol receiving), he’s a lil mean again, hair pulling, biting, dacryphilia, bit of brat-taming, reader goes into subspace, sir kink, fingering (reader receiving), unprotected sex) ღ warnings: heavy dom-sub dynamic, (he runs his hand through reader’s hair and picks her up)

Desc.: When you’re meeting up with your classmate and friend Yeosang in order to finally finish that dreaded uni project that’s been keeping you on edge for the past weeks, you don’t expect him to bring along his flirtatious friend Wooyoung. What you also don’t expect is said friend knowingly attempting to flirt with you in front of your boyfriend, who just can’t help but let the hint of jealousy it makes him feel influence his actions once you’re in the comfort of your own home.

Author's note: This is actually one of my fav chapters so far, and 80% of the reason is because the first scene was so much fun to write kasjdfkljsöldka

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Arriving at the café a few minutes early, you find Yeosang already waiting for you. You came here from your university dorms, about 20 minutes by bus, so you didn’t expect to be late, but you tend to always leave a little earlier than you have to anyway, just to be sure.

Your meet-up place is a cute little café that turns out to be a lot more spacious than one would assume looking at it from the outside, and it serves all the classics, as well as a couple of drinks that are especially popular these days.

“Did everybody send you their parts?” you ask, starting up your laptop, while Wooyoung watches the alarm that’s supposed to tell you when your drinks are ready.

“I thought they were supposed to send them to you…?” Yeosang replies, eyes widened because he doesn’t want this meeting to already turn into a catastrophe. The frustration that your teammates have continuously nurtured with their incompetence over the past two weeks bubbles up deep inside you again, until you check your emails and you find that they did indeed send their parts to you.

“Sorry, my bad,” you sigh deeply.

“It can happen,” Yeosang assures you, while the alarm goes off, shaking the whole table as it vibrates, and Wooyoung immediately grabs it and gets up. You’re glad he’s at least being useful in that regard - otherwise you’re not sure why Yeosang brought his friend from an entirely different major along to your café date of hell.

“He insisted,” your teammate tells you upon posing your question. “Actually I don’t know why I brought him either.”

“Excuse me?!” Wooyoung exclaims in offense as he returns with your order, having heard his friend’s reply. But Yeosang is quick to wave it off.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” To your surprise his loud friend merely sits down while eyeing him with a doubtful expression, but he doesn’t say anything more to that. Finding yourself more fascinated than anything else by their dynamic, you shake your head eventually and redirect your attention to the screen in front of you. 

“I’ll send you the parts so we can go over them together,” you announce as you’re already dropping the files into your kakao chat with Yeosang, the familiar tone coming from the speakers of his laptop signaling an incoming message that tells you he received them quickly. Wooyoung leans in, nosily looking at the files his friend is opening.

“Looks good… if you ignore the formatting,” Yeosang shades, making you chuckle, and Wooyoung lets you hear a loud “Hey!”

“You didn’t do yours any better!” he teases Yeosang, attempting to pinch his side but his friend evades the attack. 

“Personal space,” he just remarks, pushing Wooyoung away with his flat palm against his cheek. Once again you find yourself fascinated by their cartoonish behaviour most of all, but you don’t comment on what just unfolded in front of your eyes. “And also, mine doesn’t look very interesting, but at least it has the correct formatting.”

“Yeah, this professor doesn’t really have an eye for aesthetics,” you add, grinning yet unhappy about the way the paper you were supposed to put together looks overly sterile. “But I guess that’s what science wants.”

“Well, the contents are what matters,” Yeosang adds, this time not defending himself when Wooyoung throws an arm around his shoulders, but you can tell he’s not happy about the pda. With curious eyes he leans in, skimming through the text on Yeosang’s screen, and you give him an annoyed sigh. You really just want to finish this damn project already, before it consumes any more of your nerves. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Wooyoung grins as he notices your distress, moving away from the computer as he straightens his back, and you’re not sure what to make of his reaction. Telling yourself to focus on the problem at hand instead of him, you begin pasting the text into one collective document, while Yeosang starts reading through everything in search of any possible errors.

“Looks good,” he eventually announces, and you agree, having joined him in proofreading everything. 

“You two sure are fast,” Wooyoung comments, and he shoots you a gaze filled with mischief.

“This is the tenth time we read through these, so…” you explain.

“I see… Yeosang here told me about how horrible the others were to work with,” the guy sitting next to your classmate continues.

“You’re also horrible to work with, and you’re not even a part of this,” Yeosang mutters under his breath, causing you to chuckle, and Wooyoung immediately complains.

“That hurt! I know when to be serious, in contrast to some people.” He says it so ominously that you think at least Yeosang must know who he’s talking about, but he too shoots him a questioning look. “Whatever,” Wooyoung brushes it off with a hand gesture. “You’re done now, aren’t you? So we can finally get to know each other,” he adds, directed at you. “This guy told me a lot about you, so I’ve been dying to meet you.” He points at Yeosang, whose ears grow bright red and he waves his hands in front of his face.

“It’s not what it sounds like. I don’t talk about you all the time, this guy here just likes to blow things way out of proportion,” he explains, and with the way Wooyoung is grinning from ear to ear now, all you’re left with is to believe Yeosang’s words.

“Figured,” you say. “So? What did he tell you about me that made you so interested?” You give Wooyoung a challenging smile, and the guy is eating up your attention as he watches you with a spark in his eyes.

“How you took the lead in your project after everyone else did nothing, for example,” Wooyoung replies. “I respect people like that! You know, people who get things done.” You chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Don’t be mistaken, I’m not usually the leader type. Just… when I need to be… for the sake of my own sanity.”

“I see,” Wooyoung says, leaning back in his chair now, taking on a comfortable stance.

“I’m sorry about him, I shouldn’t have brought him along,” Yeosang says, once again. “He flirts with everything that breathes in his direction, it means nothing. He’s just doing this for his own entertainment, but I can punch him for you if you want?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s fun to do this every once in a while.”

“Oh? What do you mean - every once in a while?” Wooyoung pries, a broad grin now playing his lips as he leans back in his chair. “You’re not the type to go out and meet people like this?”

“Not to flirt with them,” you laugh, directing your gaze towards the entrance of the café, where the image of Jongho walking inside has caught your eye. You decided to have him pick you up after your meeting with Yeosang, so that you could grab dinner together. You didn’t expect him to be here this early, though. “I’m not sure if my boyfriend would like that,” you add, looking back at Wooyoung, whose mouth forms the shape of an o, before he once again merely grins at you.

“I see, I see… but the fact that you flirted back at me tells me you like to live dangerously,” he remarks, before letting out a giggle that seems both very sudden, yet not out of character at all. Yeosang can only sigh beside him. He looks like he wants to snark at his friend for that, but he bites back the words, as your attention is visibly drawn elsewhere and you scoot over on the bench to make space for your boyfriend.

“Hello,” he greets the other two, politely bowing his head in front of them, before he sits beside you. And now you’re the one grinning to yourself, seeing his shyness that seems even weirder now, that you’re getting to know more and more very different sides to him.

“Wait… is that the boyfriend?” Wooyoung points his finger at the guy next to you, eyes raised in surprise.

“Yeah,” you answer.

“You’ve been talking about me?” Jongho asks, raising his eyebrows as well. There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice, and for a second you wonder if you should use this opportunity to tease him a bit. But of course Wooyoung, the loud one, is faster.

“She’s been talking about you.”

“Don’t believe a word he says,” Yeosang utters, before you can defend yourself. “He just says whatever.” Another highly offended Wooyoung-noise is what follows, while you feel Jongho tapping your arm lightly, and when you glance over to him you can see him quietly laughing. Apparently he finds their dynamic just as amusing as you do. 

“Yeah, so… that’s Yeosang, who I’ve been working on the project with. And that’s his friend Wooyoung, who has nothing to do with the project but came along anyway to be a distraction,” you introduce the two guys, then you point at your partner. “That’s my boyfriend Jongho.”

“You think I’m distracting?” Wooyoung retorts, because that appears to be all he heard, and he says it proudly and with this shit-eating grin on his face as he puts his elbow on the table, supporting his head with his chin in his palm. You can’t lie, his bold attempt to continue flirting with you in front of your boyfriend both makes you think he must be incredibly stupid, and somehow also makes you admire his courage.

“Not in the way you think,” you answer calmly, trying to sound almost cold. Next to Wooyoung, Yeosang is muttering an “oh my god”, but most importantly your boyfriend doesn’t react to it. Instead he diverts the conversation into a different direction, and in your head you thank him for it.

“So… were you able to finish everything?” he asks, and you nod.

“Almost,” you say. “The formatting needs to be checked again, but that’s Yeosang’s job. So… if you want to go get dinner now, we can!”

“Ah, no, I wasn’t trying to rush you,” he assures as he balances somewhere between seeming friendly and polite. 

You end up leaving pretty soon anyway. Yeosang informed you that he still had things to do (you assume he just wanted an excuse to get rid of Wooyoung) and so you packed your things and split up into pairs in front of the café, with your friend and his friend taking the route to the bus stop across the street, and you and Jongho walking a couple of blocks to get to a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. It’s serving stew as its speciality, just right for a chilly evening like today.

A groan of satisfaction escapes you as you link your hands above your head and stretch your arms and back after entering the apartment. Your boyfriend smiles at the sight in front of him as he puts his jacket on a hanger and then he follows you into the living room.

“Getting dinner there was a really good idea,” you remark as Jongho comes up to you from behind, placing his hands onto your hips and leaning in.

“Right? You should let me pick restaurants more often,” he mutters right beside your ear, and when you whirl around to get a proper look at his face, he laughs softly.

“I think it was my idea to go there?” you retort, taking offense in him attempting to take all the credit, but he’s quick to appease you.

“I know, I know, just joking.” You huff at his attitude with a smile, before he adds, “I thought you liked mischievous guys.” He walks away and towards the kitchen as you’re still confused about his words, but when you begin to have a hunch about what made him say this, he’s already out of sight. You follow him, finding him pouring himself a glass of water, and without a change in expression he takes a few sips. You can only stare at him, hoping for him to say anything to help you figure out whether that hunch is right or wrong, but he doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry. Setting down the glass, he seems to be thinking about something as he’s supporting his weight with his hands on top of the kitchen counter, and then, when he finally shoots you a glance, the expression on his face has changed.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Liked what…?” Jongho pushes himself off the counter in front of him, taking a few steps towards you instead. He comes to a halt when you’re merely a few inches apart, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly, and his hand finds your face.

“That guy flirting with you,” he says, his voice dangerously low, and he lets his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “You liked that.”

“I…” You gulp as you look up at him. So he did realize it. You should’ve known better than to assume you could hope he wouldn’t be able to read you that well. But you were mistaken. It seems he already learned to notice and correctly analyze even the smallest of signs, and you guess in some way that’s a good thing, you’re just not sure what this means in a situation like this.

“It’s fine, dear,” he speaks, his voice merely a whisper now, and he leans in to press one feathery light kiss onto your lips. “You can admit it.” Again, you find yourself gulping. But the sweetness of his kiss mixing in with the soothing effect his words have on you leave you unable to ponder on this for longer. And so you simply say it, without thinking about the consequences.

“I liked it.”

It was only yesterday that you had another conversation, figuring you should talk more in depth about your wants and what you don’t want, after he almost crossed a line last time. You talked about your relationship, your sexual relationship mostly, the kind of dynamic that’s slowly growing between the two of you, and the kind of dynamic you two wish for. Surprisingly, from what you’ve discussed at least, your wishes align mostly.

You both agreed you want more. More than a kink or two incorporated into your sex life. More than a barely noticeable difference in power. He made it clear he’s willing to go into this with you, take you by the hand, and that he’d make sure to satisfy you.

But you know he also wants to be satisfied himself. And it’s exciting you, thinking about it then, and thinking about it now, as he’s steering you towards the nearest wall, until your back gently comes in contact with it. It’s not much, no grand gesture, and yet you can already feel the flames of desire burning up in your stomach.

“I see.” He speaks slowly now, the tone in his voice sending a shiver down your spine and you know he can see you tremble. From excitement for what’s to come, and curiousity about what he plans to do with you now. “What?” He raises an eyebrow, one hand resting against the wall right next to your head, the other reaching out until his fingertips come in contact with your stomach, and he lets them dance up until he’s almost reached your throat. When he sees you gulp at his action, he huffs, as if laughing at you. “You think I’ll give you what you want that easily?” Jongho asks, pulling his hand away and you inevitably frown at him for it. “After flirting with another guy? After you tell me you liked it? I don’t think so.” He takes a few steps away. There’s a calm expression on his face, his look feels almost icy as he lets his gaze wander from your head down your body. “You should know who can please you best,” he warns. “Or, don’t tell me you think that cheeky guy could make you feel better than me?”

“No!” you respond immediately and without having to think about it.

“But you still liked the attention,” your boyfriend states, matter-of-factly. 

“Y-yeah…” you admit, making yourself smaller instinctively.

“Cute,” he huffs at your apologetic gesture, and there’s a hint of a smirk sitting on his face. You weren’t 100% sure about it before, whether he really is jealous or if he’s doing this for fun, but now you can clearly tell - he’s enjoying this. And that’s fine, because you talked about this too - what you’re about to get yourself into, and how far you’re both willing to go in the process.

“Come here,” Jongho orders along with a gesture of his hand and you oblige. You step closer, let him put his arms around you, and the kiss he presses onto your lips is surprisingly soft. Slowly, he moves his lips against yours, tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss eventually, taking his time as he runs the tip of his tongue along the front row of your teeth, and just when you begin to want him to kiss you more passionately, he parts from you. One look at your face, his darkened eyes making you shiver in his hold, then he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth. Trailing kisses across your cheek and eventually halting beside your ear as he cups your face with both hands now.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.” You don’t hesitate, and you don’t protest. It’s like his words put you in a trance, making sure you wouldn’t even think of disobeying him. And so you do, you drop down to the floor in front of him, hands immediately fumbling with the button on his pants, because you know what he wants. There’s only one thing a guy could want when he tells you to get on your knees for him, and you’re set on giving him that. But your eagerness doesn’t go uncommented. “So greedy,” he mutters, as he calmly watches you pull down his pants and underwear, exposing his half hardened length. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp and for a second as you glance up at him you think you can see his features soften. “You already know what to do, hm?” your boyfriend continues, yet you wait for the okay to touch him.

“Can I…?” you ask, making him let out a short laugh. And there it is again, that grin that would tell anyone that he knows he’s in control, and he’s enjoying it. 

“Are you gonna make me wait?” he poses a question in return, and in that same breath phrasing the answer himself. “I don’t think so.” 

You keep one hand resting on his thigh, while you wrap the other around his cock. Peering up at him to watch him as he watches you, you start moving your hand slowly, and the second your palm brushes against his head, you can see the way his lips part to make way for a quiet sigh. You bring your fist all the way back down his shaft, repeating the motion a few times, until you find a hint of impatience on his features.

“Dear…” he mutters, untangling his fingers from your hair to cup your chin instead. As he lifts it up, his thumb presses against your lips, and when you open your mouth to let out a shaky breath, he pushes the finger inside. Your eyelids fluttering shut, you meet him with the tip of your tongue, instinctually swirling it around his finger once, before you close your mouth around it and suck on it. “Like that…” Jongho breathes a praise in your direction, before pulling his thumb out of your mouth and putting his hand back on top of your head to steer your field of vision back towards his core. He stays quiet, but he wouldn’t have needed to say anything more anyway to get you to finally do what he wants you to. You move closer, extending your tongue for mere kitten licks, quick strokes that wouldn’t possibly be near satisfactory against the tip of his cock. You glance up at him again, seeing the impatience building up behind his gaze that won’t leave you, and for a moment you wonder whether you should try and see what happens if you push him a bit more. 

But your own hunger wins over that desire. He was probably right, you really are greedy today, because the second you wrap your lips around him, you find yourself moaning at the feeling of having him in your mouth. The hiss of pleasure he lets out forces you to suppress a grin. Instead, you take him in further, hollowing your cheeks as you let him fill you up with his size. 

His hips stay still. You wonder whether it would stay like this, whether he would make you do all the work and merely guide you into the pace he wants, as he is doing currently, with his fingers grasping onto strands of your hair, or if he would eventually lose patience and start fucking into your mouth. All you know is you’re fine with either, and yes, you’re eager to please him, eager to get him off. 

Your hand still wrapped around him moves along with your head for additional friction, and you keep peering up at his eyes, wanting to see the moment he breaks apart, and all the expressions leading up to it. And yet he stays in control, disappointingly much, so you take him in even further as you sink back down on him, until his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag in response. You furrow your brows at the uncomfortable sensation, and yet you do it again with your next repetition of the movement. So long, until tears are starting to well up in your eyes, and that’s when he takes his hand away from your hair and cups your face instead, cursing at how good you’re being for him.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groans, and now you can see the pleasure distorting his face - it’s not much, but it serves as a motivation to work even harder for him. The sound he lets out as you swallow around him makes you moan as well, until you move your head and your hand faster, and the lewd sounds of you sucking him off, as well as your boyfriend’s heavy breaths fill the room. “Y/N, stop,” he mutters, and you don’t, because you want to push him over the edge so desperately. Instead you mewl at the taste of his precum leaking onto your tongue, and you close your eyes, preparing yourself to take his load.

What you don’t prepare yourself for is him yanking your head away by your hair, the shock from the sudden action and the immediate wave of pleasure that follows as he growls,

“I said stop.”

“Yes, sir.”

A sudden weakness washes over you, and the only thing you can do is move your head up just a little bit, leaning into the touch of his hand on top of it. And you don’t miss the way the words affected him. After he had suggested you calling him that and you had refused, saying you found the thought of calling your boyfriend sir a bit weird, you know he didn’t expect you to say it after all. But you did. And now there’s an entirely new expression on his face, an entirely new burning passion reflecting in his eyes, and you know it’s only a matter of time until it burns you too.

“Get up,” he says eventually, and you do as told, finding yourself held up safely with his hands resting on your sides as soon as you stand. Your body feels light, almost like he’s taken control of your will, when he steers you back a few steps, into your original position against the wall. Without hesitation, he kisses you, teeth clashing together as he tears at your clothes, and he only parts from you to pull them off, piece by piece, one after the other, and when he has gathered half of them on a pile somewhere on the floor, he decides that should be enough. Your pants gone should do, and when his lips smash onto yours again, you feel his hand between your thighs, fingers prodding at your folds.

“Shit,” he hisses against your lips. “You’re fucking soaked… can’t wait to fuck you…” His words make your head spin, and the way his fingers slip inside you effortlessly only adds to your lightheadedness. You throw your arms around his frame, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt covering his back, and you buck your hips into his palm as he starts curling his fingers inside you. You can only mewl at the pleasure, sentences are too hard to form right now, maybe if you tried you could get out a few words with no correlation between them. 

“...p-please…” you slur, “...f-fuckme…” 

“Who do you belong to?” Jongho asks, his fingers working you at a speed that should give you time to answer, but that won’t keep you sane for long. And yet you can’t say anything, only pathetic whimpers come out when you open your mouth. “Who?” he repeats. “Is it me? Do you belong to me?”

“Y-yessir…” you manage to say, and he bites his bottom lip hard.

“That’s right.” You can hear his voice trembling as he speaks, and you let out another sorry excuse of a moan as he presses his thumb against your clit. “Gonna make you cum so good, pretty girl… just wait…” All you can do at this point is cling to him for dear life, incoherent whines and whimpers falling from your lips, in between words that are supposed to tell him you want to cum on his cock, but you’re not sure how much of that actually gets through to him. And still, when your walls are starting to clench around him and your whole body tenses up, he finally pulls out of you. With his hand soaked in your juices he gives himself another few strokes, before telling you to hold on tight and lifting you up with his hands placed on the underside of your thighs. You cry out as he pushes into you, tears welling up in your eyes again, and this time they fall. Rolling down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelms you, arms wrapped around him so tightly that you’re not sure if maybe you are squeezing a bit too tightly after all. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters in this moment is the chase for your high, and it ends with merely a few of his thrusts. Your body shakes violently as your orgasm hits you, you bite his shoulder and yet the moans won’t stop escaping you, and as you do, he too comes undone. You keep clenching around him as you feel him spilling inside you with a groan, and even as you start coming down from your high, your body won’t stop trembling. 

He tries to help you stand, but realizes quickly that all attempts are futile. So he carefully lets you sink down onto the ground, staying close to you in order to keep holding onto you. 

“How was that?”

“Good…” you manage to whisper an answer, not having the energy for a more elaborate one, but your boyfriend understands.

“I’m glad.” Jongho collapses with his back against the wall next to you, letting you rest your head on top of his shoulder and him leaning his head against yours. His hand finds yours naturally, fingers intertwining, as your mind is still drowned in bliss from the afterglow of your orgasm.

“It was perfect, actually,” you say, correcting yourself. “You were perfect.” You lift your other hand up to comb your fingers through his short hair, eventually letting it rest against his cheek and bringing him in for a short but sweet kiss. And then there it is again, that soft smile appearing on his lips, and when you lift your head he buries his face in the crook of your neck - to hide that expression from you, as you assume. 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually call me that, after saying you didn’t want to at first,” he says, and you retort, questioningly,

“Sir?”

“Yeah…” Jongho looks away, still visibly affected by it, and you shoot him a mischievous glance.

“I’m… really enjoying this though. And I’d like to keep… trying new stuff too…” you speak, and your boyfriend gives you a smile.

“We just tried a lot of new stuff, and you already want more?” He gets up, walking over to one of the cupboards and getting you a glass of water. “Drink this, first of all,” he says as he hands it to you. “And tomorrow we can sit down and talk again.”

#ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez drabbles #ateez series #ateez x fem reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #smut

[diorkittys]

a rock and their diamond ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ venture + [bimbo] reader {hcs}

synopsis : venture with a dumb, bimbo-ish, sexy gf… i mean c’mon it’s already canon

—TW : some nsfw hcs , slight exhibitionism , reader is very suggestively a girl , big tits (ahh boo!!!)

art credits : leesam_23

“oh cool! i had a friend obsessed with archeology back in high school; she told me i was a libra!”

“you mean astrology…?” dr. ziegler raised her brow.

“um… i don’t think it had anything to do with space.”

that was the moment sloane cameron knew you were the one.

you’re ditzy, beauty, sexy, (and tall)—quite the opposite to your venturous partner. and most could describe you two as the ‘beauty and brains’.

venture was enraptured the very second they laid their eyes on you. talk about the star of the show; everyone’s attention was focused on you the moment you walked into that dig site.

you’re tiny pink dress that hugged the curve of your waist so tight—barely covering your ass and most definitely straining against your tits (not that sloane was looking…). your long legs and plush thighs that made the archeologist gulp. tall, elegant heels which only put you on more of a pedestal. and if people weren’t already drooling over your body, your face definitely topped the cake. you were gorgeous through and through. a doll.

and, yet, through all sloane’s nervousness, they could tell you looked a tad lost.

“hi! sloane cameron. are you looking for something?” they reached a hand out which you gladly shook; venture noticing your pretty, pink acrylics.

“yes! my daddy works in the medical tent—any idea where i could find it? sure doesn’t look like a fun camping trip though.”

sloane shook the last comment off, saying they’d show you where the tent is. although the digger was dusty and smelled like minerals, you decided to follow close beside them.

that’s where they introduced you to dr ziegler. “are you a doctor too?” you’d ask. “oh, gosh, no. i’m one of the archeologists working here.” and there, the infamous moment took place.

౨ৎ

venture refers to you as various different gemstones, which you love. their go-to’s being ‘opal’, ‘angel’ (short for angelite), and, of course, diamond—your favorite.

^ “almost done w these soil samples. then omw home opal! xo” sloane would reply with to your needy texts.

^ “what’d you want f’dinner, angel?” they’d ask, wrapping scarred arms around you from behind.

^ “you look as stunning as always, diamond.” watching you give a twirl to showcase your outfit for tonight—something always a little teasing and small… not that venture had any complaints.

sloane worked late hours, fully devoted to their passion. you would usually find them hunched over at the table. slim fingers pressing circles into their shoulders, massaging away the tension. your partner would sigh, leaning back before taking your hand and guiding you into their lap. they’d explain their most recent endeavor and you would listen… even though the information went into one ear and out the other.

“ya’ know?” you, in fact, did not know, but gave a supportive nod anyways. sloane snorted, planting calloused hands on the plush of your hips as you straddled their waist. god, they wanted nothing more than to kiss that oblivious look off your face.

speaking of a suggestive kiss, does it come as a surprise that sloane just can’t get enough of you?

their hands are always on you, one way or another—how could they not? so much to grab, so much to play with.

they’d kneed your supple thighs, pinching the fat in awe. and they’d mewl as if it was their own flesh.

sometimes, venture would sit atop you in bed—spending time poking and prodding every part of you like a new toy… not caring about your excessive squirming, stifling little moans.

god, your breasts were the best part. sloane would do anything to be near them at all times. alone, the archeologist fondled your tits, squeezing your nipples between their middle and index and watching them harden. if you were a tease, sloane must be a sadist.

with you being eye candy, there was, of course, a lot of attention drawn to you. some would simply admire from afar, while others took a more brave approach.

venture isn’t a very jealous type… i mean, that’s what they’ve always believed about themselves. yet, seeing men flock to you like moths to a light—it was… irritating.

there was no such thing as ‘innocent’ conversations or ‘harmless’ touches when it came to you; everything anyone did was quite obviously intentional. and somehow, the cherry on the cake was always the follow up question, “did you come here alone?”

and as the men would compliment your hair, and subtly look at your finger for a ring, sloane would interject.

well… if you count standing a few feet away with a hot, red face staring daggers into the men’s eyes as interjection… then, yes, sloane interjected. but, the real problem solver was you, oblivious you. you, who knew you were pretty hot, but didn’t count anyone’s intentions as scandalous.

so, you’d see your partner in the distance and your eyes would immediately light up, waving your hand to call them over. maybe that’s all sloane needed, because as soon as they see that look of adoration in your face, all that anger would subside. you were theirs, after all.

don’t think those men would be off the hook, however. venture would most definitely slide an arm around your waist as you walk away… maybe slightly grabbing the round of your ass with a sly smirk on their face.

you loved to surprise your partner with visits at their job. you never minded dirt and grime and it mostly seemed like it avoided you all together.

venture would be in the middle of a log, wiping beads of sweat off their hairline after a long dig. “excavation log dash 2-3-3, this is sloane cameron speaking—my team and i just discovered a fascinating—“ “baby!!” you ran up to the archeologist, practically jumping on them as you curled your arms around their neck.

sloane would be startled before turning around and giving you an equally tight hug. others whisper about how lucky their coworker is since sloane’s face reached right between your tits. and to think your partner hated the height difference (not in the moment).

“okay, guys, hold that thought! i’ll be back!” your partner would wave.

speaking of surprises, you’d always come home with rocks for sloane. standing in front of your partner with hands behind your back, “guess.” you’d giggle. every night, the surprise was no different, but venture would entertain your enthusiasm.

“hmm… let’s see… is it… a flower?” “nope!” “candy?” “nuh uh.” “a perfectly preserved dilophosaurus spine fossil with all discs in tact?!” you looked around, “uh… i don’t think so?” venture would sigh.

you open your hands, revealing a smooth, brown rock about the size of your palm. “it’s a rock!” you smiled wide and sloane’s cheeks tinted red from how cute you could be. “thank you, diamond! i love it.” you’d sit next to them on the couch, holding onto their arm. “i found it on the sidewalk. what kind of fossil do you think it is? maybe a dinosaur one?”

sloane would pat your head, trying to refrain from explaining to you that most fossils are dinosaurs… and that you wouldn’t find one on the side walk. “angel, i think it’s just a rock—a cool rock nonetheless!” and that satisfied you enough.

honorable mention, but venture definitely buys packs of fossil dig kits for kids you could get at walmart. they keep them at their work station for when you visit because you love to be included in whatever sloane is doing.

sloane works on grid maps in their tent with you by their side, scraping down compacted sand to find your prize. “i did it!” you put down your tiny mallet. “good job, opal! what’d you get?” you pout your lips confusingly, “another rock?” venture, tiredly, rubs your shoulder, “it’s a fossil, opal…” you’re lucky, though, because this leads to a make out session.

when you do have your steamy moments in venture’s tent, it’s always the most passionate. maybe it’s the adrenaline of being caught, or the shameful thought of someone hearing you, either way, it’s exhilarating.

sloane would have you propped up on the table, pushing important papers to the ground. needy hands groping the plush flesh of your hips and your dress hitched up above your ass. your tongue grazing their chipped tooth and fingers tangling in brown hair.

of course, sloane would kiss down your neck reaching the cleavage of your breasts; their hands pushing them together, making the tops spill over the very tight fabric.

of course, you’d ask a dumb question about what if someone walks in. but, your partner is already pussy drunk and is looking up at you from between your thighs, shushing you and asking if you’d squeeze their head before going back down.

it’s very common to get odd looks when you’re both out in public. as previously mentioned, you two look complete opposites. you, in a matching pink track suit, tube top pushing against your tits, low rise sweatpants showing off the tramp stamp plastered on your lower back, g string imprinting on your hips with a cute navel piercing to go with it. you always have your makeup done, sunglasses atop your hair, and pink platform flip-flops… and venture!

venture with their hair a mess, tired eyebags from rarely sleeping, chipped tooth, a ‘we rock!’ oversized t shirt, baggy shorts that went to their knees, and old sneakers. two people you would never think you’d see together, yet holding hands and sloane pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever they could.

and, yes, it’s a little discouraging knowing no one thinks you would ever be with someone like sloane cameron. it’s an insecurity the archeologist keeps in the back of their head. but, without fail, you’ve always introduced them as yours… and that makes any doubts fade away—knowing you hold your relationship with pride.

of course, a few months into dating, venture would make sure you didn’t actually think archeology was astrology. “opal, you do know that zodiac signs are not archeology, right?” they’d raise a brow. “no, silly. i’m not dumb!” you’d giggle and sloane would sigh in relief.

“he’s that murderer—that’s true crime!”

and for sloane, their heart skipped a beat…

yeah, you’re the one.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #venture overwatch #venture #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fic #venture x reader #venture x you #sloane cameron

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 — 𝐎.𝐑. [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x GN!Reader (no pronouns)

SUMMARY — A child is unaccounted for and the hospital goes into lockdown which makes it a lot harder for Reader to avoid Wilson

WORD COUNT — 2.2K

WARNINGS — mentions/decriptions of blood

NOTE — Okay here's a quick little one shot that will hopefully hold you guys over until I get that series done. As you guys have probably already guessed this is set in 6x17 and I have a few more ideas of different scenarios that could happen in this episode so you may be seeing more of that :)

It was always an odd feeling when an OR was quiet. All you could hear were the sounds of your shoes, making the floor squeak as you walked, littering bloody footprints wherever you went. You still had your mask and gloves on and were about to leave so the room could be cleaned and sterilized for the next surgery when you heard an announcement over the hospital’s PA. 

You looked over to your friend and colleague who was just removing his gloves as you listened to them say the hospital was under lockdown and no one was to leave their areas until further notice. 

“Guess we’re stuck here a little longer,” he said and you looked around you. It wasn’t the most pleasant place to be stuck, blood littered the floor like a murder scene and surgical tools were messily placed on tables and stands. 

“Yeah,” you sighed and followed his lead, taking off your gloves and discarding them, followed by your mask. 

“You okay?” Wilson asked, coming closer to you.

“M fine,” you nodded and moved towards a wall so you could lean against it. “Would just…rather be at home. Or in a shower,” you looked down at your bloody scrubs. “How are mine dirtier than yours?”

“Cause you’re a messy surgeon,” he teased. 

“Right, and it’s not because you nicked a vein that sprayed all over me.”

“I said I was sorry,” he came over next to you and leaned up against the wall in the same manner you were. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you’re thinking that if you don’t sit down your legs are gonna give out anyways then yes, I am thinking that,” you nodded and he gave you the encouragement to sit down on the OR floor by taking the lead and doing it first. 

There were a few moments of silence that passed before Wilson spoke up again. 

“Hey are you…sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

“We lost a patient, James,” you sighed. “Kinda knocks the wind out of you.”

“I know, but you know it wasn’t our fault, it wasn’t anything we could have fixed or gotten to for that matter.”

“I know, but it doesn’t really make me feel any better,” you admitted, pulling your knees up a little closer to your chest. 

Wilson reached over and took off your hair cap and you lazily turned your head around before reaching over and doing the same, messing up his now shorter hair. It wasn’t as satisfying to do as when it was longer. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, extending his hand out for you to take. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and reached out, interlacing your fingers with his, letting your back melt further into the wall when you felt his thumb brush against the back of your hand. 

“I don’t think talking will fix my problem,” you turned your head, still letting it rest against the wall as you looked over at him. 

“This isn’t just about the patient,” he inferred. “You’ve been…distant lately.” 

“No I haven’t,” you shook your head and pulled your hand out of his hold. 

“Yes you have,” he sat upright and looked at you curiously. “You just pulled away, again.” 

You pushed yourself up so you were standing again and Wilson followed you. You’d never been claustrophobic, but in that moment, it felt like the walls of the OR were closing in on you. 

“Bee, come on, please talk to me,” he begged.

“You haven’t called me Bee since residency.” 

“You’re deflecting,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What’s going on with you?” 

“I’m trying to tell you, nothing’s going on,” you began to pace the room, wringing your hands in front of you. It’s like you weren’t even trying to be subtle that there was a problem. Every time a lie came out of your mouth your body did something to tell Wilson whatever you were saying wasn’t true. 

“No, you just don’t want to tell me what’s going on,” Wilson conceded. “I just don’t like to see you torn up like this, you know that, right?” 

You stopped your pacing and nodded your head. 

“I miss you, we don’t see each other anymore and I-,” 

“James stop,” you spoke quietly, so much so he barely heard you. 

His eyes fell on you again, watching as you looked down at your hands, your mouth partially open as if you were trying to say something else, but it wasn’t coming out.

“I-I was just trying to-,” 

“I know what you were trying to do,” you said. “Make me feel better, because you’re a doctor, it’s in your nature. You don’t have to make me feel better about this.” 

“But I want to.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” you chuckled humourlessly, moving closer to the OR doors. 

“I-I could, and you could let me try and help-,” 

“James, you're not going to want to help with this.” 

“You can’t know that unless-,” 

“I don’t know what we are,” you blurted and squeezed your eyes shut, hating yourself for being so weak, feeling your back hit the wall again.

“Y-You don’t know what we are?” he looked at you, but you could see past his furrowed brows and concerned features, the thoughts racing in his head, his hands now unsure what to do at his sides. 

“We’ve known each other a long time, James,” you licked your lips and pressed them together. “And throughout that time you have been my closest confidant, my go to person, when I think of someone I can count on and someone who cares about me, I think of you.” 

“I think of you in that way too,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“No, you don’t,” you shook your head. “Because while we joked around, and looked after each other, and followed each other from hospital to hospital you got married, and then divorced, and then married, and then divorced, and then-,” 

“Married, and then divorced,” he nodded his head, filling in the last blank for you. 

“Three marriages, I was there for all of it,” you looked up at the ceiling. “I just thought maybe…I don’t know.” 

He knew what you thought. You thought that maybe since you’d both stuck around for so long, since you’d seen the best and the worst, that maybe it meant something more. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you shook your head, wishing you could disappear into the walls. “You don’t feel the same.” 

“Bee, it’s not that,” he shook his head. “But I-I can’t give you what you want.” 

“If you can’t give me what I want then how is it anything else?” you didn’t understand what he was saying. 

“It’s better if we stay friends, just…just trust me.” 

You nodded and pressed your lips together, trying to push back the tears that were beginning to form, but to no avail. 

Wilson bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, coming over to you and reaching out to offer you some sort of comfort. You wanted to turn away, shake your head and tell him to give you space, but when his hand came to cup your cheek you just leaned in closer to it, letting your tears flow silently and freely. 

“Is this your definition of friends?” you asked. “Because if it is I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“I…” Wilson closed his eyes, but he could still see the hurt and pain glimmering in your irises. “It’s not you.” 

“Oldest cliche in the book,” you sniffed and wiped away some of your tears. “Still trying to make me feel better, but I think maybe you’re more suited for treating cancer. Maybe you should stick to that.” 

“No, I-I mean it,” his hand dropped from your face and this time you reached out to gently hold his fingers, to maintain some form of contact. “It’s me. My…” he took a deep breath and tried to get himself to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t look you in the eyes. “You said it yourself. I’ve had three marriages, my girlfriend died. Every relationship I’ve had ends in heartbreak. Every person I’ve loved has eventually left.” 

“James,” your whisper drew him closer, his hands coming to rest against your arms, hesitating before moving to hold your face, the creases around his eyes having softened. 

“I thought that maybe if I pretended I didn’t love you you wouldn’t leave and I wouldn’t end up hurting you.” 

You could feel your lip begin to quiver, “You already are.” 

Your voice came out meek and strained, like it took every ounce of your strength to tell him that. 

Wilson pulled you in closer, resting your forehead against his, whispering quiet apologies. 

“I never wanted this, not for you,” he shook his head. “I’m so sorry.” 

Your hands reached out to hold onto his scrubs, the partially dried blood leaving red stains on the palms of your hand. 

“No, don’t be sorry,” you murmured. “Don’t be. Just be honest. With me. With yourself.” 

His voice became stuck in his throat and faded into a whisper, “I’m afraid to say it. I-I don’t want to ruin this…ruin you.” 

“Then I’ll say it,” you placed your hands on his shoulders. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Wilson nodded his head and you could feel his heartbeat from the pulse in his neck, every move was hesitant. Pulling you even closer, your hearts next to each other, your faces only a breath away. His lips so close to yours, and you did the only thing you could think of to quiet the voices in his head, you told him again. 

“I love you, James.” 

It was like a reflexive response to your words. His lips now moved in sync with yours in tentative movements, as if one wrong move could make everything disappear. 

“I love you,” he whispered first, his lips still ghosting yours before another kiss. “I love you,” his voice now clearer, a quiet murmur. Another kiss, more firm, pushing you back against the wall while your hands moved down, finding any excuse to bring him closer. “I love you,” again, this time fully aloud because you were still there. He had said it and you hadn’t vanished, you’d pulled him closer. “Bee, I love you.”

His lips moved away from yours but only so he could wrap his arms around you, one arm across your back, the other holding your head simply to bring you into what felt like an almost frantic embrace. You reciprocated the urgency, your face now buried in his shoulder while his nose was pressed in your hair, inhaling deeply, relieved.

Wilson could feel your legs shake a little underneath you, in part from the exhaustion of the long surgery, some of it probably due to everything that had just happened. From there it became easy for you to fall back to the floor. Wilson positioned himself with his back to the wall and encouraged you to sit between his legs, leaning back into him. 

His arms wrapped around you, this time his hands now holding yours which rested on your lap. His lips pressed small kisses along your temple and you sighed, easily sinking more into his embrace like you always had, but now knowing there was always something more between you. Maybe it was naïve of you to think things would be different, but at that moment you couldn’t care about the ending, not when things were just beginning.

It felt difficult to speak, you weren’t sure what words would cut it anymore after what you’d said, nothing could be more meaningful than that.

So you sat in silence, absorbing the moment, living in it, sucking every ounce of love you could get from each other sitting in silence. 

“Bee,” Wilson spoke up, but his voice was quiet after the prolonged silence. “You won’t leave right?”

“Not if you don’t,” you shook your head. “I’ve stuck with you for a while yet, James. Just…don’t push me away.” 

He raised a hand to tilt your head back towards him, encouraging you to turn around slightly and meet him in another kiss. 

Just as you pulled apart, the loudspeaker turned on again informing you that the child was found and the lockdown had been lifted. 

You didn’t want to move, but you knew you couldn’t stay in the OR forever. So while you still had the volition, you stood up and offered a hand to Wilson so he could follow after you. 

You pushed open the door and walked out of the OR together, heading towards the now unlocked sector doors to get to the locker rooms to change before leaving the hospital. 

As you walked side by side, you could feel Wilson’s hand brush up against yours before he reached out and properly held your hand in his own. You looked down at your interlaced fingers before looking up at him again, knowing tonight would be different. Tonight you wouldn’t be alone. 

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey @sarcasm-and-stiles @sun-flower-mad @x-uno @han11dh @qardasngan @alexxavicry @lemonxde @mushycore

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #james wilson fanfiction #house md #house md fanfiction #house md x reader #x reader #dr wilson #dr wilson x reader #dr wilson x you #fanfiction #robert sean leonard

[cheesycatz]

What I imagine Spamton NEO would theoretically look like in the Wormton AU

Wormton doesn't actually know that NEO exists. He's never been inside of the mansion and never picked up the phone (Wormton himself would've have even been alive whenever the phone person tried to call canon Spamton, and whatever malworm found it would've rather chewed the cord off than listen to them). Still, I'm sure that he would absolutely want NEO if he knew what it was and how to use it.

Explaining myself under the cut:

How NEO works

In my personal interpretation, the NEO body is incomplete. The lightner abandoned it, so its code was never finished. Since it exists in the dark world, when a darkner (Spamton) attempts to use it, the body relies on that darkner's code to finish its own, causing NEO to respond differently to whichever darkner loads themself onto it. For example, my sneo design takes from the dormant bird-like attributes left over from Spamton's code before he turned into a puppet, resulting in exaggerated claws, fur, and feathered wings (this is definitely not just an excuse to make sneo a big bird beast).

For Wormton here, NEO took from his parasitoid wasp elements to create his translucent wings. I considered making him wingless, but I think they help change his silhouette and make him stand out. The green wires attach to his tail instead of his back, as I imagine he'd be crawling around on the walls a lot during the hypothetical bossfight. I put him at the same scale as puppet spamton to regular sneo, which puts Wormton NEO at 75 feet long. He's gained some fluffy antennae to mimic NEO's original wings, but lost some fur in order to show off the now metallic parts of his exoskeleton. His body is chunkier than regular wormton and the triangular chest opening has been changed to resemble the ribcage-like shape of wormton's "hearts" (aortic arches, what earthworms have). I decided I'd rather not deal with ten colors in one pallete and stuck with the pink and yellow parts from the original NEO design.

If Wormton NEO did exist, I imagine that he'd once again attempt to take Kris's soul once he realizes that he's tethered to the mansion. Ignoring that NEO just ceases to exist without the wires, I imagine that Wormton would want to use it to control the city. He's now big enough that he could probably cave in a building if he wanted to, so I don't think Cyber City would have a great time if this thing was let loose. With his newfound power, Wormton would no longer have a reason to hide, considering he could crumple any antivirus like a can. His disguise is more of a finger puppet than a costume at this scale, anyways. Perhaps he'd keep the addisons alive, picking them up and treating them like dolls while he begins to infect and destroy the city. Or, the addisons, alongside everyone else, evacuate to castle town, leaving him to starve alone in an abandoned city.

While NEO doesn't get to exist in the Wormton AU, Wormton does draw himself as NEO once, imagining a larger version of himself with colorful fluffy wings. It's much more pleasant that what he would end up with.

#spamton #spamton fanart #deltarune #deltarune fanart #deltarune chapter 2 #spamton neo #cheesycatz art posts #wormton au #au of an au?

[pandorasfavorite]

Maneater Part 3

AN: yall its finals week so its gonna be hard to post for a bit

You should've made him beg longer, but Dominik was getting ahold of you. No matter how hard you tried to stay away from him; he only drew you in further. So you joined the Judgement Day after weeks of him asking and pleading with you. The final blow was Dominik sinking to his knees with his wide eyes, begging you to join him.

Though now you had to cope with other people telling you what to do for the group. That is what you would hate most; you are independent and no one is supposed to hold any power over you. A man most of all, but Dominik is climbing that ladder quickly. So as you both are walking down the hallway you once again remind yourself to not let him win so easily; in other words, 'don't let Dominik get too close'. You were stuck in your own head; unintentionally ignoring Dominik, but you guessed that played to your advantage anyway because he was huffing and annoyed at your silence.

His fingers just barely brush over yours and you stop walking to look at him. Your look is so intense and fiery, Dominik all of a sudden felt stuck in his spot just barely choking out a feeble, "You look good". You feel your lips twitch into a smile, but any other time you wouldn't be impressed with the weak compliment. "That's all you had to tell me?", you put a hand on your hip while giving him that unimpressed look he has grown to hate. Nonetheless, he smiles and looks down at you; quick to give you a witty comeback, "You wouldn't want to hear everything I'm thinking" he looks you up and down. You scrunch your nose in distaste at his admission...you could listen to him talk for hours.

You shove a finger into his chest and you look up at him angrily, "Making decisions for me already?". He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and tries to not make his racing heart rate obvious, "You'd hate that wouldn't you?". You grab his face to pull him down closer to you; wanting to look him in the eye, "More than anything baby". You had let go of him but he still hovered near. Dominik's face went up in flames but he wiped a hand down his mouth and stopped before you could see the smile. He tried to play it cool and give you a serious look; you blew him a kiss. He dropped the straight face and smiled, a laugh fell from his mouth all the same.

"Alright, love birds keep moving!" someone you didn't care to look at yelled at you both. You shrugged and moved on; walking forward with Dominik a step behind you. The Judgement Day walked out towards the ring. You stood behind Dominik with a hood covering your face, with new all-black and purple gear on for the occasion. You heard the boom of questions in the crowd, most people guessing wrong, but the loyal fans knew it was you by the shiny black and pink high boots. Though getting in the ring was the best, Dominik stood an inch behind you; just barely brushing against you.

And when the spotlights were on you, you finally felt the feeling of power. Dominik took off your hood and the screams of fans could be heard from miles away from the stadium. Spotlights were directly on you just like everyone's attention, you know you looked good the cheers only made it better. You felt as if you were on the highest pedestal. As if Dominik could feel the pride radiating off of you, he rested his chin on the side of your shoulder from behind you. "You like that Hermosa?', he whispered just for you to hear, his breath feeling like ice on your skin. "More than anything baby", you said again and Dominik's smile against your skin was the most memorable moment of the night. Well apart from being the main pin point of everyone's attention.

After your 3 minutes of fame, a bitch had to ruin it; like bitches do. Santo Escobar's group came out to congratulate The Judgement Day for whatever reason, to you it seemed like something way different. But what really pissed you off was that Elektra Lopez skipped over you and went straight over to Dominik, laying a hand on his chest and giving him a cheesy smile. Dominik just watched her, but his eyes flickered over to your angry ones. One thing a maneater is would be possessive. Not a great trait but one you have, either way, Dominik was your's the moment he got on his knees and begged for you. Your hands shook and a smile graced your face at the violent thought. You stormed over to her Dominik's eyes shot open like you were going to murder him instead.

You grabbed Elektra by the back of her gear, and she started to put her hands behind her back to stop you. You didn't hit her but you slung her back, her ass hit the floor and she looked up at you with shock. "Touch him again I dare you bitch", you put your hands down on your knees and got down on her level. She flipped her hair dramatically, "I didn't know". You shrugged and flipped your hair more obnoxiously, "Now you do". You walked towards Dominik and grabbed him by the collar of his black gear. Finn was sitting on the ropes already knowing you were going to drag Dominik away. You pull Dominik with you and you both go under the ropes and backstage.

#dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio x reader #wwe #dominik mysterio

[bepisbee]

made a vidow carnivore shadow short!

also go look at it!! amazing art by @space-puppeteer its so good!

(post manga shadow lives situation)

The others were honestly a little terrified the first time they came home to Vio with his hand in Shadow’s mouth. They had been taking advantage of the quiet space. Since his initial curiosity he hadn’t had much time to delve deeper into Shadow’s unique intricacies.

It only made sense. He required a different diet than them after all. Why not learn the most he can? Vio was charting how many, where, and how sharp his mouth of canines were. Shadow was sitting patiently, mouth wide and frozen solid as the rest of Link stood there mortified.

Vio hadn’t noticed them until Red started crying about Shadow eating him.

Boy, that was a fun conversation.

Shadow focused back on Vio as he snapped  back swiftly with a hiss. He’d nicked himself on one of the more dangerous teeth. Despite it really not being his fault, Shadow found himself apologizing.

“Sorry…” he held out his clawed hand to ask for Vio’s. He took it and gently rolled it over. He inspected it closely. Just a small cut on his finger, clean like a fresh knife. He made eye contact and kissed the spot softly pressing his tongue to it for a second. “You ok?”

Vio’s cheeks flushed from the unexpected intimate gesture. It shook him out of his hyperfocus. “Ah-” he cleared his throat. “Ahem. yeahh thanks. I’m okay,”

Shadow gave him his hand back.

“Do you…” He rolled over how to ask, “Have you… hunted for animals? with these?” Vio held Shadow’s hand this time, admiring the painted nails.

He laughed, “Hahaha, what, like a wolfos?” he could see it, funny as that was. “Not here I haven’t. There was always enough from the hinox and other creatures under us.” he waved his unoccupied hand dismissively. “There are markets, you know.” He subconsciously licked his teeth at the thought. “I have to be a wolfos for Halloween now.”

“Hm.” Vio stopped his inspection, interlacing their fingers instead. “Do you think maybe that accounts for your occasional over aggression and bloodlust?”

“You’re always so blunt.” he snorted, but not offended. “I dunno. Maybe? Are you suggesting I go serial killer on the local wildlife?”

“Haha, no no. I’m just thinking out loud. We should make a trip in town soon though,” Though, they might end up hunting anyway, lest they sell out the butcher. He got lost in thought about it again, mumbling. Did he need to sharpen either, like a cat? What type he liked better, how cooked, would he eat a cow?

“A cow??” oops he said that out loud. Shadow laughed really hard. “hahahaha what? like, just bite it??” His big grin showed off the sharp set. “If you bet me to, I would.”

Vio shook his head, amused. “No…well…maybe. The others would be upset.”

“Nerd.” Shadow leaned in and pecked his cheek.

#shadow link #vidow #four swords #vio link #chili writes #legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfiction #short #canivore shadow #sharp teefs

[bunnysbrainrot]

A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #bunny writes #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

[meowmeowriley]

Changes: A Poll-Fic

"Remember, you're not supposed to be here, so don't do anything stupid." Love you too, Price. The Captain had caved. He'd been begging to be part of this mission since they'd gotten the lead.

Soap reached up, rubbing his gloved fingers across the teeth of his mask. The mask he'd stolen from Ghost's room. Gaz had found him clutching it, dried mixture of tears and bile coating his cheeks, and forehead pressed to the porcelain throne. He'd been banned from drinking for the foreseeable future. That was the only stupid thing he'd done. Ghost wore a mask, Ghost only spoke when he had to, Ghost was hard on the rookies, and nobody questioned his mental state. But they did, didn't they? Well Soap didn't. And nobody needed to question Soap, he was fine.

"I wanna be like you when I grow up."

"You wanna be better than me, Johnny."

Well to be better than him, first he had to be more like him. So he'd donned Ghost's mask, to better embody the man's stoicism and presence. Definitely not as a way to hide his chapped cheeks and the bags under his eyes. He'd painted it red, wore a jaw print bandana. Different. Better. Yeah.

Price had finally caved to Soap's insistence he be part of this OP, but issued his warnings. "I know you don't need to be told, but I'm saying it anyway." He'd warned. "They've had him for eight months. Torture changes people, he may not be the same."

Of course he wasn't going to be the fucking same. He didn't need to be the same, he just needed to be alive.

Ghost never really spoke about his past, only left little hints here and there, but Soap wasn't dumb. He'd been through it before. Ghost could handle the torture, and Soap could handle the aftermath.

"I'm fine." He finally answered. "It'll be by the books, Captain." As if anything they did was ever 'by the books.' Price accepted his answer, though he didn't look convinced. It was just the three of them, with Laswell listening in. Gaz was in charge of collecting data on the bio weapon that was rumored to be here, Soap was in charge of the search and rescue mission, and Price was overwatch as the two Sergeants made their way in.

The trio hopped out of the truck, and Price slapped the side, sending it away. Soap and Gaz nodded to one another before splitting up to approach the building from different angles. Price silently made his way to higher ground.

The trek was agonizing, moreso because Soap found himself feeling more impatient than usual. Every time he had to lay low and wait for a patrol to pass he could hear the sand slowly falling, trickling away in the hourglass that was the rest of Ghost's life.

"You sure know how to keep things interesting, Johnny." Ghost had smiled at him, rare that he didn't have his mask, but then again, who other than Soap would challenge the Ghost to strip poker? And who other than Soap would cheat be really really good at strip poker? So good as to force Ghost to choose between his pants and his mask, the last two articles of clothing he had on. Soap himself had only one sock, and his jumper on, choosing to doff his pants so he could keep access to the cards in his sleeves. The  unpleasant cold of the metal chair against his junk was worth it, just to see the surprising decision on Ghost's part to lose the mask and not the underwear.

"Aye, like to shake things up, Sir." He'd said with a wink as he laid yet another winning hand down, only slightly supplemented by his sleeve stash.

He was certainly always one to shake things up. Here he was, itching to shake that damn hourglass up. He'd shake it, flip it upside down, bash it over someone's head and stuff the sand down their fucking throat, if it meant he'd get more time with the enigmatic phantom that had haunted his mind since that shitshow in Mexico.

Price gave the signal, they crawled forward once more.

"This is takin' longer than a constipated snail takin' a shit." He grit out into comms once the coast was clear.

"Soap, while it's nice to hear your voice again, one more quip outta you and I'm pulling you. Watch it." Laswell had gotten the cold shoulder, she'd fed Ghost bad intel. He blamed her, he didn't, couldn't blame her. She was just as worried. Probably.

He just needed to get Ghost back. Repay his debt. Ghost had saved him back then, after all. That's what this was. An eye for an eye, but in a positive way. They were good for eachother. Fixed eachothers problems. Complimented one another, personality wise. That's all.

He crept into the building, silent and unnoticed.

They didn't have much on the layout, just the outer perimeter, so they were going in blind. That didn't bother Soap, he was thriving for the first time in months. He finally had something to do other than run the rookies into the ground.

He dodged patrols, picked off the ones he could get away with had to, using the knife he'd kicked so long ago after Ghost had left it behind.

He found some unlit stairs leading into a basement they hadn't known existed. If I were keeping an incredibly dangerous prisoner, now where would I keep him? Three sets of teeth, plastic, cloth and bone, were bared towards the darkness. He couldn't help it, he felt giddy. He tried to quell his excitement, didn't need to make any mistakes now.

He made his way, thankful for his NVG's as there were no lights, even after descending the stairs. The hallway he entered had doors along one side, nothing much in the rooms, but he cleared each one as he passed. No fuck ups.

Near the end, he found a door with seven locks. Suspicious. Good. Suspicious was good, here. The other doors had been wood, dry rotted and deteriorating, this one was metal.

His eyes itched. He flipped up his NVG's.

Curiously, whenever he blinked, Soap could've sworn he could see symbols on the door, but they'd disappear the longer he looked. He'd blink, a sickening yellow circle with lines and symbols within would appear just as he opened his eyes, but faded so quickly, he couldn't convince himself it had ever even been there. The harder he stared the more the door looked perfectly normal, if you ignored all the locks.

Many many thanks to @stuffireadandenjoy for brainstorming with me on how to make this poll fic work, and to @resident-idiot-simp for being my beta, as always ❤❤❤

#poll fic #choose your own adventure #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #tumblr polls #call of duty #modern warfare #fanfic #fanfic wips #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ao3 #cod mw2 #cyoa fic #cyoa poll

[moonstruckme]

I had an art show tonight and no one showed up(strangers did, but my friends and fam didn't. They were all too busy i guess). If it's okay with you could I get some comfort from Robin? I need my beautiful girlfriend to hug me 😔😪🤧

I'm really sorry it went down like that sweetheart, I hope the show was good overall and you feel more supported if you do it again! Thanks for requesting <3

Robin Buckley x fem!reader ♡ 473 words

“I think it went well, right?” Robin sits atop the one table you haven’t folded up yet, eating mini brownies right out of the tray. “I mean, plenty of people came, and that one lady said she’ll come to your next one, too. You gave tons of people your info.” 

“Yeah.” You try to sound upbeat, packing away the last of your pieces and joining her on the table. “You’re right, it wasn’t bad.” 

Your girlfriend turns her head to look at you, mouth puckering. “Okay, you say that, but you’re still looking all mopey.” 

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just wish they’d come.” 

The bridge of her nose wrinkles, pretty eyes squinting distastefully. “Whatever. More brownie bites for us,” she says, popping another one in her mouth. 

You try to laugh, but it’s not very convincing. Robin’s expression creases further. 

“Sorry,” she says around the brownie. Swallows. “Sorry, it’s just, it’s shitty. It is.” She hops down from the table, standing between your knees. Her ringed hands travel up the outsides of your thighs. “You were amazing today. Like, seriously. You were so good at talking to people, and everyone wanted to hear about your art, and they should, because it’s the fucking coolest, you know?” She looks into your face, seemingly to make sure you do know, and she doesn’t push you when you look away. 

“It really sucks that they didn’t get to see it,” she says, so earnestly disappointed it makes the ache of your own heart worsen. 

You twine your arms loosely around her neck, and Robin doesn’t need more urging to hug you, pushing in between your legs as her hands slide up around your lower back. You’re just taller than her like this, her face pushing into your shoulder while your cheek squishes against her hair. She holds you tight around your middle, fingers clutching at your shirt like you’ll disappear if she’s not careful. 

“We should stop going to any of their things,” she mumbles, turning her face into your neck so the words vibrate against your skin. “There are too many birthdays in a year anyway.” 

You laugh, for real this time. “No, I don’t think I’m that mad.” 

“This is the problem,” Robin sighs, though she sounds happier than before. “You’re too nice.” 

“Like you would do any different if you were me.” 

She makes a cute disgruntled sound, hugging you tighter. Something in your chest lightens. “It’s different when it’s you. I have more of a thirst for vengeance.” 

“Sorry.” You turn your face into the crown of her head, lips curving. “I hate to leave you unquenched.” 

Robin’s quiet for a second, thoughtful. “Can I at least make pointed comments about how cool your show was the next time we see them?” 

“I mean, if you really want to.” 

“Oh, I do.”

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x self insert #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fic #robin buckley hurt/comfort #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley scenario #robin buckley drabble #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley one shot #robin buckley oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader

[ancunincurator]

What if Astarion not approving when you say he can feed on you, so long as you talk about it first, has nothing to do with him feeling like you're just another fool who's fallen for a seductive fantasy.

What if, instead, he approves of you giving the go ahead to feed on "villains we're going to kill anyway" because, at this point, Astarion is starting to process all the horrors of 200 years. He's suddenly feeling every suppressed emotion that only hits you upside the head once you're out of the traumatic environment, once your brain feels like it can let out the breath it's been holding. He's hurting and wants to make the world hurt with him.

No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind thing to me.

Finding someone who will let him unleash all the anger, unleash the monster, without any judgement must feel very freeing at first. It's quick and cathartic and less expensive than therapy. Not to mention the massive middle finger it gives to his abuser to feed on a dozen people a day after 2 centuries of forced near-starvation.

Maybe the act of offering him your neck, treating him like a normal person who can be trusted with your life and the very serious task of gaining consent is just not what he wants to deal with at that moment. Too much responsibility. Too many expectations.

I can't be what you want to see in me.

I don't think he'll ever not enjoy draining your enemies dry. But perhaps if the "About you biting me" conversation would have happened in a later act, his approval might be given out a little differently.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #just an opinion and some thoughts #not at all based on personal experiences and feelings

[qvnthesia]

in action. (a tbb hunter one-shot)

a hunter/jedi!reader (afab) fic.

the pitch: seeing hunter in action inspired a different flame in you, one that you wanted everything to do with.

a/n: okay look — i know i know i was supposed to update my tvd fic but IT’S HUNTER COME ON this man has captivated my heart my soul my body my legs—*ahem* anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic! dedicated to @/xajnie on tbbtwt, thank you for fuelling the hunter admiration <33 i’ve had to change the plot 4 times — FOUR TIMES (fuck writer's block) — so, once again, i hope you enjoy this fic!

word count: 1, 426

theme/warning: fluff, and references to smut. implied enemies to lovers dynamic. reader is an adrenaline junkie <33 (yes i’m projecting yes i’ve become a whore for this man yes i’m not ashamed) — putting an 18+ warning just to be on the safe side 💗

You were staring.

Here’s the thing—Jedi weren't supposed to stare like that. They were supposed to observe, analyse their environments and maintain peace and harmony accordingly.

Granted, you had spectacularly failed at that mindful endeavour when you had stormed through the Zygerrian stronghold. You cut through hordes of clankers with a brazen and bold strut, freed civilians fleeing behind you for cover as you advanced forward. You supposed your lightsaber would have yielded some ‘yielding’ results from the enemy, but your master’s warning about your thrill-seeking tendencies rang in your brain, and you were too late. Now enslaved to the cruel species, you didn't have much of a leeway, much to your amused chagrin, with a shock collar saddled around your neck, sharp electric cords having forced you on your knees with your bound wrists lying between your legs.

Now, however, you weren't regretting being bound at all.

There was a reason the clones had more advantages than the Separatists. They were men, they were alive, they were people who had thoughts and dreams of their own. Every trooper you had been graced with the privilege of serving alongside with had their own quirks, distinguished by their own art, moral and valour.

The sargeant was more.

As the de-facto commanding officer of the Bad Batch, Hunter had had his initial doubts about you. He was a man who wasn't used to deferring his leadership, especially not to someone who had gone from Captain to Commander to General within a span of months. But you were a Jedi, and he never voiced his doubts even though you could still feel the bitter edges of his annoyance and his purposefully positioned distance reduced to nothing but professionalism and workplace discipline.

You thought that being a Jedi, you’d stick to the military civility and get the job done.

But the Sargeant made it hard to be a stickler for the rules.

You centered yourself in the Force, ignoring the deep tug from your pulsing womanhood as Hunter battled a horde of Zygerrian slavers, hand-to-hand.

This wasn't the first time you’d watched him fight. Sure, he fought for the good of the Republic, but you’d be lying if you said watching him kick ass wasn't a scrumptious treat for your sore eyes.

Aside from the clankers begging for mercy, he spared none as he sank his knife into the droids. His pauldrons strained against his biceps as he wrapped his arms around the commando ones until their circuitry sparked and fizzled into haphazard disassembly. There were moments where it was just comfortable silence, you working on your lightsaber again while he kept twirling his knife until he sheathed it under his forearms and got up to receive the latest mission briefing. Your veins always swam with his every move, your gaze drinking every smug tug of his chapped lips as he gave a two-fingered salute and decimated battalions, his fingers curling in the exact way you’d imagined him inside you.

It was as if the war suddenly ceased to matter, your Code rendered obsolete within a span of seconds as he brgan filling your thoughts. His breath mixing with yours, fingers tangled in his hair, all resistance forgotten, his skin on yours, bodies joined, his light inside you, rendering you delirious and needy with pleasure. His smoky voice filling your ears with the filthiest of murmurs as he claimed every inch of you, gazing down upon you with a dark, heavy-lidded stare that he’d directed at you whenever he disagreed with you and your near-suicidal yet successful strategies.

You’d committed his every move to your memory. It wasn't hard to forget, being sensitive to everything down to the molecules around.

It was then you sensed it, panic flooding your limbs as a yellow whip cracked the air.

“HUNTER—”

Your warning died, lips parting in sharp, rippling surprise as the whip curled around Hunter’s arm. The electricity travelled up his body, and you struggled against the bonds, being hit with electricity tailored to make you kneel.

That’s when you heard it. A low growl. The strangled primal voice ripping out of Hunter’s throat as he stood up on his two feet. Your mind practically exploded as you stared openly, mental shields frayed from something between pain and admiration, the kind inspired by a promise of the forever you’d sworn not to chase.

Gripping the blazing whip, Hunter yanked the Zygerrian man towards him, stopping an imminent collision as he bent the slaver’s wrists with a painful wrench and delivered a sharp kick to his chest, careening the scum across the dark bridge of the facility until his body collided with the console and fell to the floor with a useless crumple.

You let out an exhale, relieved. Your legs were trembling from the exertion employed from resisting being beaten into submission. But you stood up on your two feet, shaky.

“Right on time, huh?”

You met his helmet, stark, and sighed again.

“Okay, I know you're mad and yes, I should’ve take the offer for backup—”

You’re cut off as his helmet hits the ground with a thud and he makes straight for you. Before you can say anything, his fingers rip off the collar your neck and undo your restraints.

“Hunter—”

Your confusion muffles into shock as he pulls you towards him and brings your lips into his.

Your heart nearly explodes, its pace picking up as your eyelids instantly droop shut, your palms pressing his chest plate, arms snaking around his neck until your fingers threaded through his dark locks. His fingers grip under your thigh, feet shuffling until he pins you against a wall, his solid body trapping yours under his heat. His mouth slants over yours, and he groans into the kiss as your tongue meets the hot wet of his mouth. Your back digs against his hands as they roamed across the expanse of your robes.

He was so close to you, so unbearably far away with the layers between as you snaked one leg around his waist and his length pressed against you. You arched your back at the contact, flames igniting up your body as you grinded against him, the lines between need and want blurring so intensely between your desires to be one with him and have him stay just like this.

His hands cupped your face and he flinched. Your brows stitched together as he drew back, hurt tautly woven on your face.

Hunter probably sensed your emotions, he always did, always on the lookout for something different, something hopefully not life-threatening. He simply held out a hand now coated with your blood. His eyes roved over to the bleeding gash from the side of your face, and he let out a weary sigh.

“When will you start listening to me?”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Sarge?” you grinned.

“Tsk,” his other hand traced the edge of your jaw until his thumb pressed your lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your grin grew wider and you let out a breathy laugh, your tongue flicking out to give his thumb a lick. A thrilling shiver ran down your spine, your mind hazy with your victory, once his intense brown-grey eyes refocused on you.

“Call it a favour, Hunter.”

He hummed, “What if I don't see it as a favour, Mesh’la?”

Your smile melted, the fire in your blown-out eyes sparking brighter, your gaze flickering between wonder at the use of that endearing term.

A handful of seconds passed between the two of you, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your scent had been on him the entire campaign, driving him into absolute overdrive everytime he watched you cut down enemies with your saber and decimate battalions as if you were cutting through butter and not fighting an intergalactic war. But today, he’d had trouble fighting against those slavers with the thoughts that were running in your head and driving him wild. He’d felt the weight of your gaze on his soul, the curiosity turning into animosity masking your passionate frenzy. And he would be a fucking fool if he didn’t admit not a day went by where he hadn’t thought of doing things to you that turned your bratty self into a whimpering, moaning mess all over him.

He noted your evidently aroused state, the warm blood rushing beneath your skin, and the wetness pooling your trousers.

This was going to take a while, and Hunter wasn't going to waste a single second of finally getting to have some action with you.

thank you so so much for reading! please do point out any grammatical mistakes if there are any. this is the first time i'm writing for hunter so i hope you enjoyed this fic!

if you'd like to be added to the hunter tag list (since i do have a shit ton of fics planned—this man has a chokehold on me as bad as hayden does), drop a comment below! reviews are extremely appreciated 💗✨

this fic has NOT been cross-posted to my ao3. any/all forms of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

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