#I KEEP RAMBLING I’m just curious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littledreamling · 2 years

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Okay so a couple of days ago, I made a post about making an enjoyable afternoon out of scrolling through Neil Gaiman’s tumblr likes (and I stand by that; if you choose to do so, it will be an afternoon filled with wonder, education, laughter, and not a small amount of confusion as to why he’s liked certain things) and I made the joke that I wasn’t sure if he knew that his likes were public for the world to see (I partially stand by that too; I’m also pretty sure that he just recently learned about tagging, since I’ve never seen him tag anything up until that head pat ask, but I could be very wrong; he’s been on the internet longer than I’ve been alive), but I think there’s more to it than that.

I think he has his likes public for a reason, a very specific, very meaningful reason. You see, tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm. It’s one of the (many) things we tumblr users love about tumblr; it won’t collect your data, it won’t pander specifically to you (leading to an infamous reputation for downright yet hilariously horrible ads), and it sure as hell won’t spread your posts outside of your circle of followers (at least not until recently, though I have fully embraced the new tumblr tabs; they provide enrichment and new genetic material for my pool of mutuals). For the vast majority of us (roughly 98% of us), liking a post does absolutely nothing. Sure, it lets the author or artist know that you enjoyed their work, but it doesn’t spread the word, and tumblr’s entire function revolves around spreading the word. Liking is useless in that regard.

But for people like Neil Gaiman, who have a sort of power here (he’s our resident celebrity, a fact that never fails to make me smile because it means he’s the same sort of weird as us) (some of us, at least), who have a recognizable name and a massive fanbase and holds the adoration of countless, liking posts (and making those liked posts visible for anyone to see)… well, suddenly it starts to mean a little bit more. He doesn’t like a whole lot, sometimes just a few posts a week, sometimes even less, but scrolling through what he does like is a heartwarming experience (one that I fully encourage people to undertake themselves, paying particular attention to the number of notes that certain posts have) (no seriously, how does he find these posts sometimes?? they have single-digit note counts and he’s among the first to like completely untagged posts, it’s baffling) because they’re things that boil down to (what I can only assume to be) the essence of Neil Gaiman. They’re funny comics about reading. They’re gut-wrenching news articles about current global politics. They’re stories from fans about meeting him, or wanting to meet him, or not being able to meet him. They’re pictures of barbecues and famous actors and movie posters. They’re trans-positive and queer-supportive and riot-encouraging (because the first pride parade was a riot and queer means fuck you). They’re artworks done by fans featuring his characters and meta posts about his works and raving reviews about his shows. They’re wholesome and alarming and lighthearted and important. And for someone like Neil Gaiman, who uses his blog almost solely as a way to connect with his fans, as a way for his fans to be able to see him for who he is, making his liked posts public is… shockingly refreshing.

As a trans person, I have had many idols in my life, especially authors (*cough, cough, you know who I’m talking about*) who have written fantastic works but have let me down with who they are as people and their beliefs. Too many times have I dug deep into an author only to find that deep down, they’re just shitty people. Imagine my surprise when, as I dove down the rabbit hole of Neil Gaiman, unearthing everything he willingly offered to the public to find about him, all I found was support. All I found was righteous anger and encouragement and an all-encompassing compassion. All I found was Neil’s steadfast belief in me, in everything I am, in everyone like me who came before me and who will come after me, in my brothers and sisters and siblings, in my community. And above all else, I found love. For myself, for my community, and for the author who isn’t afraid to show up, to be loud, to put his money where his mouth is, to come to the defense of a community that (to my knowledge) he is not a part of, and to stand firm in his support even when he’s under fire for it.

So yes, his likes are public, because for him, it’s not about an algorithm. It’s not about spreading word or creating a ruckus or drawing attention. When Neil Gaiman likes posts, he is simply saying “I’m here. I hear you. I see you. I support you.” And he isn’t afraid to show the entire world that he does so. And I, for one, respect him as an author, as a personal inspiration, and as a human being all the more for it

#idk if this makes sense #it’s 4:30 in the morning #I’m tired and rambling and emotional about my favorite author #keep going you funky little tumblr celebrity #Neil Gaiman #he’ll never see this and that’s okay #it’s more for me anyway #I’m serious about acrolling through his liked posts though #it’s entertaining as hell lmao #I think I referred to him as hilariously odd in my last post #and I refuse to take it back #it’s such a good descriptor of him #he’s brilliant and insightful and inspiring yes #but he’s also just… a funky little internet dude #I love him #in the most respectful way possible #I wish he was my dad #I’m also SO curious about who he follows #there are a few blogs that I follow that he likes their posts fairly frequently #it just makes me wonder #I know I post too many shipping shitposts for him to ever follow me #but I can one day dream about havjng the HONOR of receiving that notification

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batnsons · 2 years

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little menace update: he has bitten my toes, chased my feet around the room, bitten my arm again, taken several good naps, and eaten two full bowls of food today

#he keeps eating!!!#I’m so proud!!#he’s eating rn and I put some of the new food in trying to switch him to in there #so I’m curious if he eats it or if he’s just gonna eat around it #freddie the ferret #freddie update #rey rambles

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yyyyanyan · 4 months

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I am enjoying a fic but ik I dropped it in the past and I Cannot Remember Why

#yy ramblings #it’s a long longfic so i keep wondering if i should stop now and switch to a different one that is new to me #i guess bc like i’m enjoying it but also not as much as i could be #it isn’t tagged for character bashing but imo it is T_T and i wanted to avoid it this time #but also like i am curious about what happens so i don’t want to drop it……#update: this long longfic is even longer than i realized #i will shelve it because i am not ready for this much commitment #wow i just checked the tags and it does say “maybe some character bashing” which i just missed lmao rip

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rene-spade · 2 months

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my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

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absdoll · 5 months

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Hi bee:3 requesting for Abby eating out or playing with readers 🐱 with her fingers while reader is playing a game

It's all I've been thinking about lwjeuvesivdsi

hi qt ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა i luv this idea ! ty for requesting 🎀

cw : pervy!abby <3 my beloved ♡ // reader is playing animal crossing new horizons !

“abs! guess who just came to my island?!” you squeal as abby lifts her head from her book to meet your sparkling eyes. “hmm let me guess, the weird looking red dog?” she asks, quite genuinely.

“wh-… oh! cherry? she’s so cute! you’re mean.” you furrow your eyebrows at her, offended she called one of your favorite villagers weird looking.

your girlfriend smirks, a sigh leaving her mouth. abby gets a rise out of making her sweet doll-face frown and pout. abby knows it’s wrong to think such dirty thoughts about how innocent you are. the way your cute little butt peeks out of the bottom of your cotton shorts when you try to reach the top cabinet. when you’re all doe-eyed and curious asking her what she wants for dinner. how you sit crisscross applesauce in the big comfy living room chair, looking so small and fragile. and right now, the way you’re so giddy about a silly animal video game. she takes a deep breath as she moves over to where you’re lounging.

“i’m sorry baby, can i see?” abby rests her head on your shoulder, her right hand settling on your bare thigh. you giggle when she gives your soft flesh a little squeeze.

“it’s chai! i’ve wanted her to move to my island since i started playing!” you ramble on about your beloved blue elephant. “she’s just like cinnamoroll, look!” you tilt your nintendo switch screen in abby’s direction, biting your bottom lip in excitement, so happy you get to share this moment with your favorite girl.

abby glances at the game for a moment, then looks up at you, your eyes glistening. she looks back down at the screen, noticing your small fingers toggling with the knobs of the device. she takes another deep breath.

“mm so cute angel, i love the little teacup on her head.” abby kisses your shoulder. “i’m gonna get something to drink from the fridge, you want anything?” she inquires. you shake your head no, too focused on trying to make a good impression on your new guest.

the tall blonde stands to walk to the kitchen, stopping to stretch her arms above her head, letting out a long sigh. she turns around to give you a sweet look before she leaves the room, but her eyes fall somewhere else.

as you sit with your legs in the butterfly position, your pretty pussy on half display. abby clenches her fists, she’s resisting the urge to pry your game out of your soft dainty hands, pin them above your head, and fuck you dumb. she can’t hold back much longer.

“baby,” abby breathes, she walks back over to you, kneeling before you, elbows on your knees. “just keep playing, okay? don’t mind me.” you’re too busy cleaning up your island and making small talk with your digital neighbors to give abby any more than a “mhmm! okay bibi!” and she knows it.

abby begins planting gentle kisses to your cold thigh, humming against your skin as she sees goosebumps rise up your legs. you shiver a little when her face gets closer to your half covered heat. you move your game slightly to the left, looking down at her. “what’d i say pretty girl? hmm? eyes on the screen, don’t look at me again.” abby softly speaks through her pebbled kisses. you frown, confused, but decide to listen and be the good girl abby wants you to be.

abby’s mouth is nearing your pool of slick, you can feel the warm breeze of her breaths tickling your entrance. she uses her nose to reveal your wet pussy from your shorts.

“abs!” you attempt to close your legs around her head, but she knows you, she knows your movements. she knows that you like to play this little game where you say “nooo abs! don’t wanna! too sensitive!” and then a few seconds later, you’re spread wide open, desperately waiting for her skilled tongue to plunge into your aching hole.

“cmon princess, i don’t have to tell you again, do i?” abby coos. “spread.” her voice a little huskier.

you nod and relax your legs. you resume playing, eyes glued to the screen again, quickly getting distracted by the singsong isabelle is putting on outside town hall.

abby’s tongue now inches away from your puffy pulsating clit. all she can think about is devouring every last ounce of you while you sit there, so innocently focused on something far less disgusting than what she’s doing.

your perverted girlfriend watches as your cute hole tightens around nothing, a smile forms on her freckled face. she extends her wet pink muscle and licks a gentle zigzag from fold to fold. “mm-aahh!” you let out in a high pitched moan. abby shoots you a glare, a warning, that if you acknowledge what she’s doing again, she isn’t gonna be so sweet and soft anymore.

she’s drinking your pussy, tongue circling your sensitive nub, slurping every drop of white cream that’s sticky all over her chin. abby glances up at you, “good girl, so proud of you angel.” you bite your lip so hard that you wince a little at the sudden taste of blood, but you know better than to look at abby, let alone let her know how good she’s making you feel.

abby slides one finger into your pussy with ease, your drenched entrance practically sucking her in. “so wet for me.” she’s making out with your thumping clit, curling her index finger up, the pad perfectly tapping your g-spot.

you can’t breathe, you can’t think, you’re trying to move the controls of your game, your hands shaking. all you want to do is buck your hips up to her face, shoving her tongue so deep inside of you that feel her nose touch your clit over and over and over. “you’re close princess, i can feel it.” abby hums.

she’s going so agonizingly slow, the soft sensation of her saliva mixed with the unhurried pump of her finger, you’re dying for her to pick up the pace — and that’s exactly what she isn’t gonna do.

“cum slowly for me baby, ride it out.” abby continues lapping up your slick, using her free hand to hold your legs open. “that’s it sweet girl, riiight…. there.” you’re cumming all over her face, from her nose to her chin, her face is buried in your juices.

“let me hear that pretty moan of yours.” abby’s eyes fixated on your blissed out face. finally granting you permission, you scream out in euphoria, “uug-uuuh aahh aaa-bby-y-y!”

abby removes her finger, plopping it in her mouth, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she sucks your cum off.

sliding your shorts back up your legs and kissing the top of your head, she starts to walk towards the kitchen. “you want something to drink now?” she teases.

a/n : i loved writing this ପ૮๑ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ๑ აଓ hehe if u don’t love pervy!abby then idk what to tell u , ur missing out ! 😵‍💫💕 hope u enjoyed bbs <333

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆ @whore4abby @hersweetheart @enbesbians ♡🧁

#🧸 bee writes ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ ✉️ : reqs #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fanfic #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2

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s-4pphics · 5 months

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click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.”

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”

Oh God. “What?”

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.

Why are people… so odd?

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”

“The wettest. Go.”

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“Alright.”

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.

“What’d I say!”

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah what.”

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.

… Cute.

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.

“Hey. Can we switch the time?”

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”

“Sike.”

You scoff in disbelief, “What?”

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”

“Right.”

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.

“Damn… My fault.”

“I’m chilling. I just need head.”

“Go out! Find somebody!”

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly.

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.

“To move in.”

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #black!oc #black!reader #ellie williams tlou #works 𖧧࣪#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

Text

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part three❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.

♡ Warnings: language, fluff, angst, death threats, stalking, daddy issues, hints to anxiety, mentions of alcohol

Part 4

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was the next day, early in the morning. You were still asleep while Bucky was downstairs moving in his stuff, with Steve’s help of course.

Steve was in charge of the perimeter guard team around your house, and found some free time to help his pal Bucky move in. He also was curious about you, never having met you face to face. But the stories he had heard from your Father— scared him.

Steve plopped down a bag at the front door, wiping some sweat off his brow.

“So Buck, what do you think so far?” Steve asked him, both of them chilling by the doorway.

Bucky shrugged, leaning himself against the frame.

“It’s fine. I’ve done this before an—”

“I meant, what do you think about her so far?” Steve corrected himself, and Bucky bit his lip— deep in thought.

“Shes fine.” Bucky answered shortly, and he could tell by Steve’s brows raising— that he wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

“C’mon Buck, give me more than that! Is she as bad as Pierce makes her out to be? Or worse?” Steve rambled on, while a bucky was getting annoyed.

“Ya know— she’s actually not bad at all. She’s pretty quiet, keeps to herself— extremely polite.” Bucky told him defensively, he didn’t know why but he felt the need to stick up for you.

He felt awful that you were made out to be this— monster. When you were far from it.

Steve gave him a ‘really?’ look and still wasn’t buying it.

“You’re not messing with me? The whole perimeter team is afraid of her because of bosses stories.” Steve pointed out.

Bucky huffed, clearly annoyed with Steve’s rambling.

“I’m serious.”

“Huh. Wonder why Pierce gives her one hell of a warning. Think she’s just pretending?” Steve persisted, causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

“Seriously Steve, I don’t have time to talk about her all day. I have a job to do.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll let ya be. Just let me know if there’s anything interesting that goes on.” Steve told him, making Bucky chuckle.

“Sure thing.” He responded sarcastically.

“Is she pretty?” Steve asked one last time, pausing his step to leave.

“Fucking hell— seriously?” Bucky scoffed, watching Steve walk down the stairs laughing.

He was glad he was walking away, that way he couldn’t see the blush that had dusted his cheeks at the thought of you. Well yeah— you were attractive. But it was strictly professional, and he’d never see you anything more than his mission. But with Steve’s words, he couldn’t help but think otherwise for a slight moment.

He closed the door, sliding all the locks in place— making sure it was safe and secure. As he was leaning down to grab his bag, he heard the tiny echoes of footsteps approaching.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky turned to glance up the stairs, at the top was you— still in your pajamas. He hated to admit it to himself, but even just minutes after you’d woken up— your hair evidence. He still thought you looked pretty.

“Morning (Y/n).” He breathed out, hoping that his cheeks were back to a neutral color.

You smiled wider, loving it when he said your name. You wondered for a second why, but perhaps it was because you were so forgotten on a daily basis— no one ever seeking you out— speaking to you. It felt nice to be called, even if it was something as simple as ‘good morning’. You felt appreciated.

“Did you sleep okay?” You asked him, walking down the stairs to meet him.

He shrugged, not sure if he should tell you the truth. That he didn’t even sleep in the bed at all, instead making a makeshift bed on the floor.

“It was fine.” He lied.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, a knowing look that alerted him that you knew something.

“Really? I peeked into your room, looking for you and I saw blankets and a pillow on the floor. The bed didn’t look like it had been touched.” You said softly, being careful to not make him feel embarrassed.

His jaw was clenching, the thought of you going into his room looking for him. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was a bad one or good.

“Yes really, I slept fine.” He repeated, hoping that you’d be convinced somehow.

You giggled, making to the second to last step.

“Okay, whatever you say. You can always wake me up if you ever can’t sleep. Sometimes it’s good to talk to someone about what’s on your mind, so you can go to bed with a clear head.” You suggested.

He fought the smile down harder this time, your sweet demeanor almost infectious. Every time he saw you smile, it caused the corners of his mouth to twitch.

He nodded at your suggestion, deciding not to respond verbally.

“I’m going to make breakfast, would you like a plate? I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet.” You asked him, fully down the stairs now standing in front of him.

It was only now that he could see the height difference, he was towering over you. You looked so tiny from his view— you looked adorable.

As he was about to decline your offer, his stomach growled— echoing through the main entrance. You laughed, clutching your own stomach. The tune of your laughter had his chest warm again. He forgot a time in his time where he was around so much laughter. He had missed it.

“I’ll go ahead and make you a plate and leave it in the fridge. You can decide if you want it now or later.” You told him, turning to walk away— towards the kitchen.

He felt very welcomed here. You were so inviting and sweet, he couldn’t help but want to break down his walls a bit.

“Thanks (Y/n).” He spoke out, causing you to turn.

“No need Mr. Barnes, I’d be happy to do it.” You assured him.

Bucky bit his lip for a moment before speaking out again.

“James.” He spoke out, watching your expression grow confused for a moment. “You can call me James.”

You sent him a smile, your own cheeks dusting pink.

“Okay James.” You tested out, and you couldn’t help the way it felt rolling off your tongue.

Bucky on the other hand, didn’t know he would like hearing you say his name so much. It was a name he didn’t let people use too often, but for some reason he allowed you to.

You turned and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. You were slowly wrapping him around your little finger. He hated it.

Later that day, Pierce had sent one of his men to your home. Informing Bucky that Pierce wanted to meet with him. He was still unsure why, but knew not to question the boss.

That’s where he found himself standing in Pierce’s office again, while you waited outside the office patiently. Bucky couldn’t help but feel bad when Pierce asked you to wait outside, not even sparing you a warm greeting or hug. It wasn’t very Fatherly of him.

“Mr. Barnes I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you in today,” Pierce started, walking around his desk, “We’ve received some… interesting photos recently. Thought you should take a look.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, grabbing the folder in Pierces outstretched hand— opening the file up to see many pictures of you. They were all from a far away perspective, all photos you were unaware were taken.

It seemed you had an admirer— more like stalker.

He pushed around the pictures, his eyes focusing on one photo in particular. You were sitting on a bench reading a book, with the words ‘she’d look so much prettier dead’ written in red across the image.

The message had Bucky’s stomach flipping, the looming threat that now rested over his head, over yours. It definitely wasn’t an admirer, more like someone trying to mess with you— to get to your Father.

“These were just dropped off here?” Bucky asked on edge.

“No, they were found by one of the perimeter guards near her house. I’m just glad we found it before she did.” He explained, rubbing his temples in stress.

“Are you going to tell her?” Bucky wondered.

“Hell no— her knowing would only make her a paranoid mess. For your sanity— it’s best she’s kept in the dark.” Pierce suggested, while Bucky wasn’t so sure that’d end well.

Bucky wanted to say something but chose otherwise, Pierce seemed to notice the judgement on his face.

“Listen, my men are handling this situation as best as they can. All I’m asking is for you to continue to do your job, and keep your mouth shut about this.” Pierce made himself clear, not giving Bucky a chance to speak— walking back around his desk to sit.

“Yes sir.” Bucky nodded, though he felt indifferent about the whole situation.

You were clearly in danger, and Bucky of course wasn’t doubting his ability to protect you— but he was more concerned about the lack of concern Pierce had for his daughter.

“That will be all.” Pierce dismissed him, sliding his glasses back on.

Bucky turned to walk out, and when the door opened, he wasn’t expecting you to barge in. His hands hovered over your arms, wondering if he even had the right to stop you from coming in.

“Hi Dad, I was wondering if we could talk.” You tried, shifting nervously on your feet in dread of his answer.

Bucky watched uncomfortably from the doorway, unsure if he should leave or not. Hesitantly, he stayed.

Pierce ripped off his glasses, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“Who let you in?” He asked calmly, though he was far from it.

You took a deep breath, trying not to let your hurt show. You hadn’t even been in the room for a minute and he was already sick of you.

“I- I did.” You uttered out.

Bucky couldn’t help but notice how small you were trying to make yourself, how you were nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Pierce scoffed, trying to focus on his papers— pretend that you weren’t there.

“Dad, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight? We could go to Sarah’s restaurant.” You asked him, biting your lip anxiously— waiting for his response.

Pierce glanced up, looking you over for a moment trying to come up with an answer.

“I have a lot of work that needs to be done (Y/n).” He breathed out, massaging his temples.

“It doesn’t have to be for long!” You argued, your heart beating faster— knowing deep down what his answer would be.

“I just can’t. Please understand that?” He pushed, his tone growing more aggravated.

You glanced behind you, sneaking a look at Bucky. He stood silently, pretending he wasn’t listening and merely watching over you— as it’s his job. But, he had heard everything and was quite invested into this conversation. On the other hand, you felt embarrassed that he was witnessing your Father letting you down.

Facing your Father again, you sent him a pleading look.

“Dad please… I miss you.” You whispered, hoping Bucky wouldn’t hear your pathetic voice.

He did.

Pierce looked at you, almost right through you. It was clear that your begging did nothing to convince him— that you solemn state didn’t concern him. He ran a hand through his gray hair, closing his eyes in thought.

“I’m sorry peanut, maybe another time.” He said so softly.

The words did nothing to comfort you, instead filling your body with frustration. It was funny that the only time he ever used that tone, or that nickname that you used to love— was when he was sending you away.

It almost felt like he was teasing you, jabbing at your inner child. Like things were supposed to be better, that letting you down wasn’t supposed to hurt as much because he was using the nickname. If anything, it only reopened the wound. The sweet tone like salt sinking into the wound. It forced you to remember a time where he had loved you. Past tense.

Blinking back the tears you felt approaching, you took a deep breath, giving him a fake smile.

“It’s okay, you’re right maybe some other time.” You lied to yourself, you knew this was an empty promise.

Pierce sent you a pitied look, and in a second focused back on his papers. Going back to ignoring your presence.

You couldn’t hold the tears back for much longer, and decided to leave the room calmly. Your goal to make it out of the building before the tears could fall.

You passed by Bucky without a word, not that he needed to ask where you were going— knowing he’d follow you. He watched as you pressed the elevator button, your leg bouncing in impatience. Your hurried movements were causing Bucky to frown in concern.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” He asked quietly, not trying to bring any attention on you.

You looked his way and nodded your head without a word— which was unlike you.

Before he could ask again, the door opened and you stepped in. Bucky stepped in behind you, pressing the ground floor. The elevator ride was filled with thick tension, an uncomfortable energy flowing throughout the small space.

Thankfully, the room dinged, and the doors opened for them to exit. Bucky was leading you to the car that was waiting for you by the curb. He hurried and opened the door for you, watching you slide in quickly.

He could sense your discomfort even as he shut the door and glanced at your figure through the tinted glass. He figured he’d get you home as quickly as he could, seeing as that’s what you wanted. Not a word had been spoken between the two of you, but it was almost like you knew the routine already.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he risked a glance in the rear view mirror— his heart aching at your dull expression. You were staring mindlessly at the headrest in front of you— lost in your thoughts.

He focused back in front of him, shifting the clutch until he was accelerating forward, heading home.

He wasn’t going to glance back again, that was until he heard a sniffle. Glancing up, he quickly regretted it. He frowned at the sight of your wet cheeks, watching you attempt to wipe them dry— but the tears kept coming.

He suddenly felt anger towards Pierce, the way he dismissed you like you weren’t his daughter— someone of importance. It saddened Bucky, your kindness doing you no favors.

He didn’t realize he was staring, until he felt your eyes on his. He focused through the mirror, holding your bloodshot eyes with pity.

You were looking at him with longing— for comfort that had always been pushed away from you. You didn’t know why you searched for it suddenly from him, maybe you were desperate. Yeah, that’s it.

“Just relax, I’ll let you know when we’re home.” Bucky said the only thing that came to mind, although there were thousands of things he probably, should’ve said.

You gave him a weak smile, one that had Bucky internally wincing. Hating the way it didn’t reach your eyes. Suddenly he missed your smile, your true smile.

With a nod, you rested your cheek against your hand against the window— letting the rumble of the car lull you to sleep. Bucky watched your eyes shut, and ever so slowly your expression shifted to something peaceful.

Bucky let his mind wander on the drive home, and he couldn't help his mind from wandering to you.

A part of him still didn't understand why you were so opposite from how Pierce described you. He had yet to make sense of it all. He was starting to come to terms with the idea that Pierce was just mean. Maybe he didn't give you enough time, maybe you had yet to show your true colors.

Arriving home, it wasn’t dark yet— but the sky had started to dim. He checked the mirror, not surprised to see you still asleep. He got out of the car, walked around to open your door. Thankfully, you had moved off the window during your slumber.

“(Y/n), we’re home.” He whispered, watching you mumble something, but otherwise stayed asleep.

He gently shook your arm, rocking your body just slightly in attempt to wake you.

“(Y/n)?” He tried again, this time louder.

You nodded your head like you had heard him, but still— your eyes remained closed. Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head with a light chuckle.

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He blamed it on the fact that he felt bad, witnessing you getting turned down by your Father. But as he scooped you up in a bridle position, he couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading throughout him. You snuggled your face into his chest, letting his scent lull you into a deeper sleep. Bucky couldn’t fight down the butterflies that your gesture had caused.

He continued into the house, locking the door all with one hand before heading upstairs to your room. He should’ve been surprised at the elegancy of your room, but it seemed so you. He smirked at the space, all the little things scattered around the room that made it you.

Reminding himself he could ogle at your room another time, he set you down on the bed, his hand gently cradling the back of your head until it met the pillow. Instinctively, he got to work and started untying the laces on your shoes. Slipping them both off gently, before picking up your legs and placing them on the bed.

He lifted your body for a moment, pulling back the cover so you couldn’t slide under. Soon, you were snug and tucked under the blankets. Bucky gave you one last look— be told himself it was strictly for his job. But he found himself just wanting to look at you for a moment.

Letting his eyes fall from your face, he started to turn to leave. That was until your hand grabbed his, stopping him.

“James?” You mumbled sleepily.

He turned and looked at you, glancing at your hand holding his for a second.

“You’re okay, just carried you to bed.” He told you quietly, watching your eyes droop.

You let your mind brew a crazy idea. Stay with me. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to whisper those words so badly. He was the closest thing to comfort you had in so long, and you clung to it— to him so desperately. You didn’t want to scare him away, you couldn’t help yourself from coming on too strong. Besides, you thought it felt wrong to ask your bodyguard such a thing.

Instead of whispering the words that itched to come out, you released his hand— and let your eyes shut completely. Falling into a deep sleep, hoping that your dreams could be filled with comfort.

Bucky watched you let go, and melt back into the pillow. He waited as it looked like you had something to say. He wasn’t shocked when you fell back asleep, but he was more shocked at his sadness at your lack of words.

Without giving you another glance, he headed out of your room. Shutting the door softly, until he heard the click. He wasn’t sure what was up with him today, he blamed it on his pitied brain. He needed to remind himself that he was working, and he had no time to slack off. Rubbing a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly— heading downstairs in search of alcohol.

He hoped that he could drown out his distracting thoughts, needing a clear mind by tomorrow. He needed to stop his walls from crumbling around you.

TAGLIST: @winters1917 @unaxv @sebastianstansqueen @casa-boiardi @sonatabee @nytzirhk @almosttoopizza @erinallene @daddy-dotcom @h0nestly-though @beautiful-loserr @gloriouspurpose01 @lesleurs @justherefortheficandsmut @floralwsloki @dottirose @madi-be-buggin @navs-bhat @happinessinthebeing @ximi1315 @buggy14 @dancer3205 @neeezza101 @rovckwells @loki-is-loved @yujyujj @wolfstarrrr @distinguishedbluebirdtriumph @tatianah26 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @lethallyprotected @sadboiabby @ziatracy @doveromanoff @whattheduckisupkyle @buckysgirl85 @etherealdisneyvillainness @doctorlilo @torntaltos @raging-panda @livingoffsavvyillusions @lmao-liz @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @toriluvsfics @baconeggndcheez @nialiuwanderlust @nabiiturner @nickangel13 @queerqueenlynn @memyselfandi19 @mentalidrainedfangirl @wattpaduser200 @obsessedbutnotblessed @iris-shihabi @thecubanator2 @chloe-skywalker @oatballsoffury

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wpdarlingpan · 5 months

Note

will you do a platonic yandere older brother coriolanis (I think that’s how u spell it lol) snow x a sibling! reader ? and he kidnapped them? also it can be fem or gn. have a good day/night!!

I love this idea! And thank you so much I also hope you have a good day/night.

I’m open to doing a part 2 since this is somewhat short if enough people like this storyline. I’m curious on where it could go.

His Little Snowflake ❄️

Platonic Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Younger Sister

Female Pronouns

Word count: 1.1 K

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, mentions of murder

Coriolanus wasn’t an only child, albeit he was the oldest. He had a little sister named Y/N. She wasn’t as known as he was, after all he was the heir to the snow name and ‘fortune’ so it wasn’t up to her to preserve the name.

When Corio found out he was going to have a little sibling, he was indigent. He knew he would keep all of the rights being the oldest but the idea of having to share with a sibling was torture in his mind.

That was until he saw them.

His mother died in childbirth after having the baby. When his father came home with her, he was prepared to loath the baby that took away his mother, even if she wasn’t the best one.

But one look into the baby’s eyes something shifted.

Corio was the one to look after his sister when his father passed away.

Tigres would always offer to help while Grand’mam claimed she was too old to care for her.

He didn’t care, this was His sibling. His responsibility. His little snowflake.

When the 10th annual hunger games began and he was forced to mentor, it took up some time. With having to write the proposal for the Doctor and being a mentor to Lucy Gray he barely had time for his little sister. He blamed everyone else for the situation. If a teacher kept him after class? That teacher would have something unfortunate happen to them.

He could just give up but he was obsessed with his little sister getting the life she deserved so he had to win the money by any means possible.

Everyday when he got home from all of his duties, he’d go to her room.

“Corio!” She squealed happily running into his open arms. She would jump as high as she could to try and wrap her arms around his neck but it would often end up with him having to bend over as she wrapped around him like a koala.

“Hello Snowflake, I miss you today.” Thats what he’d always say. That fact that he missed her was true but he would also say it to prompt her to say it back. After all didn’t she miss him just as much?

“I missed you too!” Then she’d ramble about her day to him. Not noticing as his scowl as she talked about her friends since the second she’d look up at him he’d change it to a soft smile.

All you needed was each other and he firmly believed that. Maybe Tigres on the occasion when absolutely necessary but she was a cousin. You are his little sister.

“You need to distance yourself from them, it sounds like they are bad influences”

“That doesn’t sound very nice of them, I think you should stop talking to them.”

“A boy? You’re too young. They’ll old hurt you. Do you want to be hurt? Don’t you trust me?”

Those are just a few things he’d say to try and turn the favor back to him through gaslighting and guilt tripping. Of course it always worked. Y/N loved her older brother, she couldn’t not trust him.

With all of the cheating Coriolanus did to make Lucy Gray win it wasn’t that much of a surprise he was caught, at least to everyone else but him. He was too focused on winning that the idea of getting caught was child’s play.

Now they wanted to take him away from you. He simply couldn’t allow that to happen. The idea of not seeing you every minute was distressing to him but for 10 years as he is sent away to the districts? He would kill everyone in his path back to the capital.

So in order to prevent that he did what he does best, manipulate.

First of all he had to get Y/N.

~*~

Bursting into her room he saw her where she usually was, sitting at her desk coloring.

“Y/N!” He spoke urgently as he ran around to pack some clothes “Get ready. We need to leave.”

Y/N saw the panicked look on his face he tried to hide, making her panic about what was happening. Or course she wasn’t told about his treachery, he would murder whoever painted him in anything other than a perfect light to his little sister.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, we are going away for awhile.”

“What about Tigres? Grand’mam?”

“They are staying here.”

She was in shock, leaving her family? Her young mine couldn’t process the fact even if she would be with her older brother. It was natural to be scared of change.

And this would change everything.

“I can’t leave them!” Coriolanus was delusional and would hope they would accept to leaving but he planned for the rare possibility of them not.

“Please don’t make me do this the hard way. You want to be with your older brother right? It’s the two of us against the world remember?” She nodded with tears in her eyes as she hugged her little tiger stuffed animal “I have to leave, and I’m not leaving without you. I love you.”

“But-but” Y/N began to stutter out but Corio knew he was losing a lot of time. So he grabbed some sleeping powder he found in Dr. Volumnia’s office and lightly blew it into her face as he caught her as she began to sway on her feet.

“What’s happening-“

“You’ll be okay I swear, we will be okay. We just need to go away for awhile.”

~*~

He somehow convinced everyone he came across that he was allowed to bring her with him. Sure it took some convincing for some but the way he could talk circles around people make them give in pretty quickly.

Then he paid the transfer worker money to send him to district 12.

In no way did he trust Lucy Gray with his little sister, but he didn’t want you to see him killing people nor did he want her left alone for any of those district people to get ahold of and poison her little mind. But he didn’t have a choice so he had to go to the person who is his only option. After all her oh so kind heart wouldn’t allow her to get hurt. That is if Lucy Gray was still alive.

When Y/N woke up she was in the arms of her brother as he brought her into his individual room in the barracks due to his higher standing.

“Where are we?”

“Welcome to district 12 my little snowflake. Nothing can get between us now.”

And he meant it. Even if it meant getting a few people killed along the way and sending his best friend to the hanging tree after he suggested she return back to the capital.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #younger sister #Yandere #sibling #10th hunger games #the hunger games #hunger games #platonic #platonic yandere #lucy gray baird

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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Mei I have a request 👉👈

Spencer can talk a lot about things but is used to getting cut off because people aren’t interested after a few sentences- what about one where he starts rambling and is like 🫢 sorry I’m rambling and reader is like >:( keep going I wanna hear >:( and Spencer is like :D because someone actually wants to hear all of what he has to say

Love you mei ❤️❤️

(If you can’t tell I’m bad at wording things 😭😭)

"-it was just such a disappointing shift," Reid's brows furrow and his hands fall at his sides, "The beauty of that series specifically was that they stuck to the episodic format, there weren't a lot of long plotlines and if something did come back seasons later, they gave new viewers a nice recap. So when they mirrored that in the release of their books, it was refreshing. It felt like more episode of the show were coming out, just in written form. But when the novels started picking up longer plotlines, like, six or seven books an arc, it was just-"

He shakes his head, messy hair flying at the frustrated gesture. His eyes scrunch momentarily, and when silence befalls the two of you, he seems to realize what he's done.

"Uh- I'm sorry," He grimaces, rubbing at one of his eyes, "I'm sure you don't care about the evolution of Star Trek's storytelling. I just- I get carried away, and-"

"Reid," You call, hip aching where you're leaning against the doorway to the kitchenette of the BAU. Spencer was making his coffee, but he'd put the sugar aside to better articulate his feelings on the matter. You'll gladly endure a sore hip tomorrow if it means he'll gush more to you, "It's okay. I don't mind. Did they ever go back to shorter, more contained plots?"

His brow is furrowed, and it dips into a more dramatic expression before smoothing out. His plush lips turn up in a curious smile, "Uh, in the novels?"

"Yeah. Did they ever take it back to what it was before?"

"Not- not really, no." He muses, suddenly flustered by the knowledge that your attention isn't begrudgingly given, "But- it's okay, I- I still like them. The novels. Have you seen the series'?"

"It doesn't matter," You wave a dismissive hand fondness swelling in your chest at the nervous stutter he's adopted, "Tell me about them."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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rottingparts · 11 months

Text

Confessions

[Mirage x Human!AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Mirage wants to take you out, and not with a sniper.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MINORS DNI!! Human/Alien Robot Relations, mentions of clit, grinding, size difference, bruising, marking up (but not on purpose) (please let me know if i missed something! Sometimes my brain thinks it typed it out or i just miss it in general, it's not on purpose i promise!)

A/N: There is no use of pronouns! Reader is AFAB, but is written GN. This was supposed to be like, multiple characters separately, but this got a little long and i didn't wanna write the other two this long as well, so I'm posting this one by itself. I also kinda wanna do one with potentially a male reader?? Give me your thoughts🔫 -Rot

It started with a ‘I know a place’ and ended with you hopping into Mirage and going to wherever it was he wanted to take you.

The two of you wound up in some secluded area, on a hill, overlooking the sunset below you. Mirage’s door opened and you scooted out. You looked at the scenery before you and gasped. It was astounding, beautiful, and most definitely breathtaking.

“How do you know about this place?”

Mirage waved his hand, “Ah, it’s-” He seemed to not be able to come up with anything, “Noah told me about it.”

“Of course,” You smiled at Mirage, “I should have known you wouldn’t know any cool New York places on your own.”

Mirage feigned being hurt, touching his chest and giving a slight gasp. “I’m trying to spend time with you, and you say that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and sat down in the grass, looking at the pink and orange sky above you. You lied down and closed your eyes. You sighed and heard movement beside you. You peeked over and saw Mirage sitting beside you. He was watching you, thinking. You didn’t know about what, but you could see he was thinking hard.

“Y’know…” Mirage started, shifting where he sat, “This is probably not a good time,” he rambled on, “stop me if it isn’t,” he put one of his servos up, “but, you’re really beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you- I think the team gets mad with how much I talk about you-”

“Mirage-”

“Now, I understand if you don’t think the same thing-”

“Mirage!” You almost shouted. He stopped. “I think- I feel the same.”

“You think you do?” His optic ridges furrowed. He sounded worried.

“No! I know I do.” You smiled at him. “Um, this is embarrassing-”

“Oh trust me,” Mirage shook his head, “It isn’t.”

You paused, “No, it is. I think about you a lot. A lot more than I, uh, probably should.”

Mirage, growing intrigued, gave you a curious look. “Oh? What do you think about? I need every detail.”

Your eyes widened. “No you don’t. All you need to know is I feel the same, and maybe then some.” You were fidgeting, playing with the grass beneath you.

Mirage’s fingers met your face, and he gently, very gently, tilted it towards him. Your eyes met his blue optics and your stomach dropped. A heat pooled between your legs and you tensed. ‘Now is not the time,’ you shouted at yourself. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, but you gotta go first.” He inched closer to you, “I don’t want my thoughts to be too weird.”

You nodded, “Okay,” your palms hit your thighs and anxiously rub down them. Mirage was still keeping you looking at him, and as soon as you closed your eyes and inhaled, Mirage was quick to ask you to keep your eyes on him. You looked back at him, “For starters, I think about you a lot at night. I think about your voice, your… servos?” You asked, pointing at them, and he nodded, “I think about what they would feel like against my skin.”

Mirage’s ego was being inflated at a speed unknown to man, “Well, you don’t have to wonder any longer.” He smirked. “I’ll share now!” He seemed excited to tell you after you shared your thoughts, “I think about how soft you would be. Your skin, oh especially your lips-”

You, without thinking, interrupted him, “Would you like to figure that out?”

Mirage cocked an optic ridge at you, “Which one?”

“Both,” You whispered, voice barely audible. Mirage was stuck. Did he think he’d get this far? Not really. “You can kiss me…”

Mirage was on you instantly. Your warm hands went to his face and cupped it. His lips pressed to yours and your stomach turned with excitement. You pulled away, faster than Mirage would have liked and he pouted at you.

“No one is gonna come up here?” There was a desire in your eyes that Mirage could not get enough of. As soon as he shook his head, you nodded. “Can I-” You motioned towards his lap. He moved back from you, sitting directly on the grass and patted his thigh. You crawled onto him and started to kiss him once more.

Mirage grabbed at your waist, dragging you up his thigh slightly, causing you to moan. Mirage took this as a chance to happily stick his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, eyes widening and fingers tensing on his face.

Mirage’s tongue explored your mouth and you rocked on his thigh. That elicited another moan from you and you felt Mirage smile. Mirage moved his leg, picking it up and dropping it, causing you to fall with it as you tried to grind against him. You whined and pulled away from Mirage. He gave you an innocent look, acting as if he didn’t just do that.

With brows furrowed, you huffed at him, “Mirage,” You whined out his name.

“Oh~” He smiled, “I can definitely get used to hearing that!”

“Come on! You’re not gonna leave me high and dry are you?” It was your turn to look at him innocently.

Mirage was melting under your stare. He could have sworn his spark stopped. “How do you wanna do this?” He was folding already. “I mean, I think you’re too small for my spike…”

You bit your lip, thinking, “I could-” You couldn’t articulate your words properly, “I want us to both feel good.”

You saying that was all Mirage needed to hear. Before you knew it you were half naked, and Mirage had his spike out. Your shirt was still on, but your bottoms were thrown by Mirage to the side. You had asked him to not destroy them. He proved to be a good listener.

Mirage positioned you against his spike. He leaned back, keeping you steady, and watching you as you started to move. Since you were quite a bit smaller than Mirage, and knew you could not feasibly take his spike, he had decided it would be best for the both of you if you just would grind against it.

You started to move, pushing yourself along the spike. As you reached the head of it, your thighs would tense together and you could feel Mirage twitching under you. You would slide back down his spike, your clit rubbing against it. You let out a loud moan and cried out Mirage’s name.

“Fuck,” You whined as you hand grabbed for Mirage’s forearm, keeping yourself upright. Your legs were going to be sore the next day. But at that moment you did not care. As you pushed yourself up and slid your way back down Mirage’s spike again, you were getting closer and closer to release. “Baby,” You whimpered, “I’m gonna-”

As soon as you said ‘baby’ Mirage was close to losing it. His hips bucked upwards and you were sure the noise he made was going to be heard a mile away. His grip on you tightened and you came hard and fast, all over his spike. You did not stop grinding against him though, not until Mirage came himself.

You watched as Mirage’s optics seemed to fizzle out, he seemed to be short circuiting momentarily. When he whimpered you were sure you could orgasm again just from that alone. Transfluid came from his spike and your grinding began to slow.

“Don’t-” Mirage’s optics were blue again, and staring straight at you, “Don’t stop.”

“Mirage,” Your voice was soft as you were growing tired, “I’m too sensitive.”

Mirage seemed to realize his grip on you was not as soft as it once was and he let go, letting you slide down onto his leg. When you felt him lift your shirt and you heard him let out a little gasp you looked down at your side. You noticed a bruise forming, one that resembled a not so small hand, and you felt yourself snort.

“This isn’t funny!” Mirage was not laughing, “I hurt you!”

“Mirage,” You reassured him, trying to steady yourself on his thigh, “it’s a bruise, it’s gonna heal. The way you held me was kinda hot, anyway.” Mirage was conflicted. “Let’s just hope the others don’t see it…”

Something clicked, “Wait, if they do see it, they’ll know-” Mirage looked ecstatic.

“Mirage! I am not going to show off this bruise so everyone knows that I was with you.” You shook your head. “But-” You put a finger up, “If someone asks I won’t deny it…”

#valveplug #tf mirage #rotb mirage #mirage #mirage smut #mirage x reader #transformers smut #transformers x reader

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bellatrixscurls · 1 year

Text

“we feel things for you” ♥︎ tyler galpin x reader x xavier thorpe

summary : xavier and tyler are in a relationship... but what happens when they start having feelings for their best friend?

warnings : smut, double penetration, pet names, teasing, tyler being a meanie, sub xavier, etc.

a/n : weak sex with xavier and tyler <3 i suck nskdjs i’m sorry.

xavier was unsure of many things, but his attraction toward you was not one of them. he didn’t know how to explain it. he had tyler, whom he loved, so still... why did he need you as well?

if he were to choose, he could never. you were their best friend and as well as tyler, you had been by his side always. he was fucked, he knew it. but the worst part was, he had to tell tyler as well.

“hey” xavier jumped as he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, his eyes widening as he looked up at his boyfriend, worried that he’d actually heard his thoughts. “what’s wrong?” tyler pursed his lips and sat down across from xavier.

“nothing-” the blond stopped himself with a sigh, he couldn’t lie to him. not when he looked so pure and clueless, so innocent. “y/n” he whispered.

tyler gave him a curious look, his hand covering his boyfriend’s. “as in, our friend y/n?”

“mhm” he responded, his eyes looking everywhere but at tyler. “we had a sleepover last night... we didn’t do nothing but, she fell asleep on my chest” xavier’s hand was shaking in his boyfriend’s hold, and he prayed tyler wouldn’t notice.

he did.

“yes?” he urged the boy to continue, gripping his hand to reassure him. “keep going, love. it’s just me.”

that’s when xavier’s face softened, his lips breaking into a dopey smile. of course, it was only him ─ his loving boyfriend, the one who’d always helped him when needed.

he felt a bit more confident now.

“when we were there, i felt something...” he whispered, even more confused. “i love you, please remember that” he looked up worriedly, his brows furrowed and his heart clenching at the thought of hurting tyler.

tyler smiled softly. “you want her, don’t you?”

“i- i mean, um... yes?” xavier stuttered, biting on his lip as he tried to find a suitable response. “and i know she wants us too, ty. i’m not crazy, i’ve seen the way she looks at you, even caught her staring at me a few times” he rushed to explain and tyler smiled to himself. even xavier knew that he was oblivious to almost everything, so the fact that he noticed was a suprise.

“she does, doesn’t she?” tyler smirked. “well, i’ve been thinking about her for a while too” xavier’s head snapped up, the confession leaving him flabbergasted. “mhm, yes i did. you can’t exactly say that you are surprised though. i like pretty things” he caressed xavier’s cheek, the boy melting into his palm instantly.

“let’s go find her, yeah?”

♥︎

xavier knew just where to find you ─ your dorm room. as crazy as it sounded, he was your roommate. you two had grown so close to each other that you had your parents convince principal weems to let you stay with him.

he knocked on the door and tyler gave him a weird look. “why would you do that?”

“yes?” you called softly from the other side of the door, closing your book and placing it behind you on the bed.

xavier cleared his throat, his eyes wide as he entered the room, with his boyfriend behind him.

“oh- x, you didn’t have to knock” you smiled softly at him, gulping when you noticed who was standing behind him. tyler.

his hazel eyes were on you as he waved awkwardly, and you returned it the same way.

“yes i know i’m sorry i-” he started rambling, but tyler quickly cut him off, although he was just as nervous, maybe more.

“y/n, we feel things for you” he spat out, his brows furrowing and his lips pursing at the way he said it ─ nothing like the speech they had planned on the way to evermore.

xavier’s shoulders dropped as he slapped his forehead. “oh man” he whispered.

“you mean.. you like me?” your eyes were wide and your heart was clenching at the mere thought of them liking you back. you’d tried so hard to stay away from both of them because you could never resist being touchy and loving on them all the time, so you didn’t want to ruin their relationship.

“yes!” xavier exclaimed, his hands in the air like he’d just won the cup. “we fucking love you, y/n/n. we want to be with you, please allow us.”

he was giving you the puppy eyes as if he had to convince you. he didn’t have to, from the moment they walked in, you were putty in their hands.

“i love you too” you confessed softly, taking their hands in yours. “kiss?”

“fuck yes” tyler’s breath quickened as he smashed his lip onto yours, his hands holding your waist ever so gently. you whimpered against his lips, your free hand that wasn’t in tyler’s hair, holding xavier’s tightly as you pulled him to you.

you pulled away from the kiss to rub your roommate’s cheek. he looked at you adoringly, his eyes shifting between your swollen lips and your teary eyes. you were so grateful.

“pretty” he whispered before his own lips grazed yours, softly kissing you, unlike tyler. he was gentle, and tyler was desperate, but in their own way, both of them wanted to have you.

xavier set his knee in between your parted legs on the bed, and you felt him come closer and closer, giving you an adrenaline rush. your hands came to grip his arms as his knee grazed your clothed core, and you had to break the kiss with a needy whimper.

your eyes were teary and red. you were so desperate for them, and they could see it.

“up” tyler instructed as you blushed, your eyes looking at the knee xavier was teasing you with. “there you go” tyler held your chin and you looked up at him, the tears threatening to spill any second. “why are you crying, lovie?”

your breath hitched in your throat. “cus i need you” you whimpered when tyler’s hand found the hem of your shirt, pulling up until your chest was revealed to them. you were not wearing a bra.

“fuck me” xavier moaned when he caught sight of your perked nipples, his knee bucking into your sensitive core.

“xavier” you moaned out and tyler saw it as his cue to move so he was behind you on the bed, his arms wrapping around your delicate waist.

“you like her tits, pretty boy?” he taunted, staring into xavier’s eyes as he tweaked one of your nipples, causing you to throw your head back.

“uh huh” he exhaled sharply, and you whined when you no longer felt his knee moving, and you look down, tyler’s hand gripping his boyfriend’s thigh.

“but why!” you exclaimed, shifting so you’d be able to hump his knee, but it was no use, as tyler’s other hand was gripping your waist as well.

he tutted softly, and your breath hitched as you felt his hand come down to your cunt, pulling your panties to the side. you shuddered at the feeling of his cold fingers against your wet, warm core, and it made tyler groan.

xavier was staring at the way tyler’s fingers played with your folds, spreading the wetness from your hole and onto your clit and lips. “you wanna taste, my love?” he asked his boyfriend, the submissive boy nodding frantically as he bent down, taking tyler’s fingers in his mouth, and sucking them dry.

it was a sight for sore eyes. the way tyler praised him, the way xavier moaned around his fingers because of you.

“fuck me please” you begged, and it was almost inaudible. but they heard you.

“who do you want to fuck, lovely?” tyler spoke softly as he nosed at your neck as he placed small kisses along the sensitive skin.

“both” you murmured, your hands shaking with the anticipation. “want you both inside of me... m-my pussy.”

god, your cheeks were so red.

xavier was acting like an eager puppy. by the time you were done speaking, his cock was springing out of his pants, deliciously red. he seemed to have lost his mind, like he only wanted your cunt, not you.

“he gets like this” tyler soothed your worries, kissing your cheek as you felt him rid himself of his pants as well. “he wants you so much, baby. tell him what to do, he won’t do anything unless you tell him to.”

your heart warmed at the thought. sure, xavier was a soft, gentle boy, but you never thought he’d be so obedient in the bedroom.

“can you please get inside of me, bubba?” you asked softly, warm eyes looking up at him.

he nodded, leaning in to peck your lips for a moment. he had his cock in his hand, and he shakily guided it to your pussy, moaning loudly when his tip grazed your clit, causing you to clench around positively... nothing.

his eyes rolled back as he sank into your pussy, his hand gripping the base of his cock. “feel good” he whimpered, falling forward so that his face was hiding against your neck.

“of course you do” tyler taunted, his free hand carding through xavier’s long hair before he was lifting your hips, so he could get inside of you too.

his hands were massaging your ass as he bottomed out inside of you, his face against the other side of your neck. “shit” you moaned loudly. you had both of them inside your pussy. both.

it was clearly not your first time, but they were already big as it was. so taking both of them was something else.

“hurt?” xavier looked at you worriedly, and you turned your head to the side to peck his lips. “no, feels so good” you whimpered and felt him relax against you.

“can i have one?” tyler feigned jealousy, and you hurried to smash your lips against his, holding him by his jaw. you clearly did not expect him to─

“t-tyler!” you cried out when he thrusted harshly into you, feeling as though you were split open, and he encouraged xavier to do the same.

“oops” tyler smirked, his hand sliding down to your stomach, and a bit lower until he found your clit. it was swollen and sensitive from xavier’s previous actions, but he did not care. he started pressing onto it like it was a real button.

xavier mewled against your skin, his hand coming up to hold tyler’s free one. tyler could feel his cock already start twitching, ‘poor baby’, he thought.

“how does it feel, x?” he asked and the boy whined, mumbling a small ‘perfect’ as he rutted into you, his tears falling onto your exposed skin.

“give her more... cum in her, she wants it. don’t you, honey?” tyler taunted and you sighed, your heartbeat picking up as you nodded desperately.

you were exhausted from cumming a couple times already, and you needed their cum. you craved it.

the room was filled with all kinds of sounds. whimpers from xavier, low grunts from tyler, soft ‘clapping’ sounds from how fast they were fucking you. until xavier couldn’t last no more.

“cummin’” he cried weakly and you could feel him get more and more desperate as the seconds were passing.

“go ahead, baby. let us feel you” tyler encouraged him, and although he was not a very vocal person in bed, sound-wise, he let out a loud cry and gripped your hips as they both stilled inside of you at the same time.

it was nothing like you’d ever felt before. tyler could feel xavier’s cock throb as he came inside of you, and you could feel it too, but twice.

♥︎

“took me to fucking heaven” tyler exhaled deeply and dropped on the bed as well, causing you to giggle softly.

“think someone isn’t back yet” you pointed to xavier who was laying on his tummy, his forehead sweaty as he faced you two.

he smiled. you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he most definitely did. “you are just that good, huh? let me feed into your egos a little more.”

─

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #tyler galpin #tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday smut

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as-is-above-so-below · 3 months

Text

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 2: Midnight Rain

summary: you get yourself in a pickle a/n: hi! I return again! I'm sorry it's short, but I'm trying a new method of posting. Instead of aiming for a specific word count (which leads to me getting writer's block and not posting ANYTHING), I write until I'm satisfied with what I'm trying to achieve. Hopefully, I've achieved that goal, and y'all like it :) Blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

You drummed your fingers against the notebook in your lap and gnawed on the top of your pen. It was late, even by your standards; the sun had long since set, and dinner eaten hours ago. But you were up, sitting in the dark in your living room, heavy rain pelting your old windows. You were trying to pull together a new lesson plan for the following day. A few curious students had started asking questions about the modern military. Like, key differences between military strategies used in the time they were studying and today. And, of course, yet again, you made promises that you were struggling to keep. And you always keep your promises to your students.

Fuck.

The internet wasn’t helping at all. You didn’t study military strategy in any of your courses. Was that even a thing?

The last thing you wanted to do was call him. You were so confident that you could solve your problem yourself, at nine o’clock. Now, it was past midnight, and you were absolutely desperate.

Fuck.

Before your tired brain can flood with guilt and change its mind, you grab your phone from your nightstand and tap into your recent calls log. Your stomach churned, anxiety bubbling up with every trill. God, it’s so fucking late to be calling. It felt like you were split in two. One half of you was praying that his phone was on silent (you know it’s not) or he’ll sleep through the ringing (he won’t), while the other–the miserable, exhausted half–needed him to pick up.

The latter won out.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

John’s deep, sleepy voice made you feel guilty and incredibly happy that you’d woken him up. Soft and grumbly, rolling in his chest; it made you feel soft and warm inside…

Not the point of the call.

“Hi, John. I’m completely fine, I just…” You took a deep breath, the heel of your free hand pressed into one of your dry, worn-out eyes. “I know you’re this big important captain, and you have work in the morning, but I’m in a bit of a pickle and need a massive favor.”

There was a slight rustling on the other end like he had turned slightly to check the nearby time. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, love,” he mumbled.

You felt even worse. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” you begged, running a hand over the top of your head. “One of my kids asked about the military. It sparked a whole discussion in class, and I may have overstated my knowledge. I barely know anything about it, and my brain is turning to mush. I’m so tired I wanna cry, and-”

He quickly cut off your rambling. “Woah, hey. Slow down there. What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly sounding much more awake.

That brought you pause. You honestly hadn’t thought what you would ask if John actually answered the phone through. It was one o’clock in the morning, which John had correctly pointed out, and your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity.

“I was…wondering if you could give me a lesson. Because I’m super tired, and I like to hear you talk.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve learned a lot from you just…talking to me? But I’m a history teacher. I’m an expert on wars, not war.”

There was some shuffling on the phone. On the other line, John was leaning over the edge of his bed, searching blindly for his little pocket planner in the pile of clothes on the floor. The rustling stopped when he placed the device on his pillow, rifling through the calendar. He sniffed and was quiet for a moment, while you nibbled anxiously at your pen. Again.

The silence finally broke with a tired sniffle from John. “I can do you better. Why don’t I come to your classes tomorrow?” he asked.

You froze, pen still between your teeth. John? Coming to your school? Spending the day with your students? That would be the equivalent of introducing your boyfriend to your children.

“…Really?”

“Sure.”

Could you even call him your boyfriend? You’d been on a few dates, sure, over the last…two months? No, it was closer to three. Had it been that long already? You did some quick math in your head. You’d gone on about one date a week, with a few canceled due to last-minute commitments. Still, about one date a week, over three months…

Holy shit.

“John, I’m sure you’re busy. I couldn’t-”

“Not at all,” he hummed, cutting you off. “Besides, it would take me ‘til class tomorrow to give you a good enough rundown, and the boss loves shite like this.”

“I thought you were the boss?”

You could practically hear a small smile tugging at John’s lips. The expression was a familiar one. The corner of his mouth quirked up, shifting his beard and creating happy wrinkles near his eyes. His nose would scrunch up a bit, too, especially if you were out in cold weather.

“Everybody has a boss, sweetness. Myself included.”

Christ. Not the pet names. And especially not in the tired, gravelly tone his voice was currently in. John Price was going to be the death of you, even in his unfocused state.

You unfolded your legs from underneath you and moved your notebook onto the coffee table. Your resolve was fading, and you couldn’t be bothered to argue. While you did feel bad about dragging John to your school to fix the problem you created, you weren’t sure you had any other option. Accept defeat? To a group of teenagers? Absolutely not. You’d never live it down. You sighed, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

A soft smile crossed your face. “Is this just a ploy to meet my kids?”

“Maybe.”

Your sleepy giggles were like music to John’s ears. The sound alone was worth the favor. As if he wouldn’t have done it anyway, just to ease your stress. He would take any and every opportunity to make your day easier or make you happy. What he wouldn’t give to hear that laugh in person, laying beside you in your bed–

No. John’s a good man. A gentleman, he would say. A man who was perfectly capable of not acting on his urges and thoughts. At least, not in person. However, in the privacy of his own home? That was a different story.

“Thank you so much, John.”

Right. You’re still on the phone. He heard a soft click on your end of the call.

“That’d better be you closing your laptop, I’m hearing.”

“It is.”

“Good girl.” You blushed furiously. Fuck. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

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