#i know he smells like merlot

[cinomn]

he’s so daddy (issues) coded i keep thinking about him

#matty healy #the 1975 #is this weird #i’m so into his grey disheveled hair #and his wrinkes.. #sorry #his stubble #i know he smells like merlot #where r my girls with daddy issues help

[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut

[queers-gambit]

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train 2022 #atj #tangerine atj #atj tangerine #atj character #tangerine x f!reader #tangerine x female!reader #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader smut #requested #queers gambit

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Katsuki takes you to dinner. You find it difficult to keep your guard up when he’s so respectful and charming.

Adult!Bakugou x Forensic Detective!Reader

⚠️ drinking. suggestive themes. violence.

l Previous l Next l

Dinner with Katsuki is precisely what you dreamed it would be: seamless and firmly rooted in his brand of romance. He takes you to a place that serves authentic Indian food. It’s right near the station. As soon as you enter, rich aromas of masalas and spices waft past your nostrils. Immediately, you begin to salivate.

“Fuck, it smells good in here,” your date mumbles. “Can’t wait t’ dig in.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble.

In no time, a waitress collects you at the door. She guides you to a table amongst a small crowd of people. A few of them take notice of Katsuki and whisper excitedly between each other. You gulp. You hadn’t thought about the consequences of dating a pro hero. What will publicity bring?

“Ignore ‘em.” The blonde says gruffly. “Tonight’s about me ‘n you, not any of these extras.”

You cringe. He’s certainly not afraid to voice his opinions, hoping intimidation is enough to keep gossipers at bay. Fortunately, he’s right.

You both take a seat. He sets your knapsack down on the chair next to you. The waitress hands you a couple of menus, and you take your time going through them. The table is quiet as you decide. The atmosphere is light and soothing. The nerves you felt at the start of your date are dissipating.

You order your food, as does he. A glass of wine for you, and a double of whiskey for him. The waitress scurries off to fulfill it, leaving the two of you alone again.

Your mind is racing. Breaking the ice is hard. His fiery gaze is boring into you and he doesn’t appear ready to chat anytime soon. The only thing you can focus on is the case you just solved, so you use that to toss your nervousness out the window and initiate conversation.

“S-so, I’m glad we caught him,” you stammer. “The villain, I mean. Today.”

He leans back in his chair and shrugs.

“Yeah. Piece of shit should rot in Tartarus f’r what he did.”

You nod absently. Where he’s going, you hope he isn’t able to harm anyone else. The suffering he’s caused the family of his victims is enough for one lifetime.

“Did you have trouble capturing him?”

“Nah.”

“Th-that’s good.”

“D’ya think I asked you out t’ talk about work?”

His brows are furrowed and his mouth twisted into a petite frown. You lick your lips, heat flooding your cheeks. That’s what you get for acting impulsively. Why are you so uncomfortable with silence?

“S-sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed. “I just… I guess I don’t know what else to talk about.”

Katsuki appreciates your honesty. In the past, he’s been on dates where his partner scrambled to fill the silence, eventually bringing up whatever vapid shit came to mind. He respects that you don’t fall victim to the same sort of urgency. It’s more natural this way.

“How ‘bout yourself?” He suggests. “Unless you’re tight-lipped about your personal life on dates, too.”

You laugh. At that moment, the waitress swings by with your merlot. She sets two wine glasses down and pours. You thank her and take a sip. A heavy, bitter flavour of berries greets your tongue. It’s not at all unpleasant.

“I just don’t like talking about myself at work,” you explain, putting down your glass. “And I don’t do much else these days, what with staff shortages, so I guess I’m not used to it.”

“You work harder than this stubborn bastard I know.”

He means it as a compliment. In his youth, Katsuki went through an identity crisis and blamed him for the insecurities it caused; nevertheless, his bond with Izuku has only grown in adulthood — for the better. Now, he acknowledges his conscientiousness and potential as a true hero.

“Your friends aren’t buggin’ ya?” He inquires. “If I’d known you don’t cut yourself any breaks, I’d’ve asked you out sooner.”

It’s feels nice to be fawned over. Prior to today, you had no clue he harboured such a fascination for you. Although you want to take his attraction at face value, you have your guard up. You’re not looking for friends with benefits; you’re seeking a companion in him. If he thinks he can talk sweetly to you for the purpose of getting in your pants, he’s got another thing coming.

“They know I’m busy.” You brush off his concern with a smile. “And we see each other here and there.”

He props up his elbows on the backrest of his chair and stares across the room distantly, eyes fixated on the kitchen doors. You don’t blame him; you’re starving, too. You think he’s abandoned the topic, when he speaks.

“As long as you’re not workin’ yourself into the ground. Think I’d like t’ keep seein’ ya.”

It isn’t much longer until your food arrives. The waitress sets down the dishes and utensils; then, she wishes you a good meal and excuses herself. You spend the rest of your time chatting intermittently about the flavours, sharing food between each other, and enjoying your meals. When you finish, it’s later in the evening. You’ve emptied your wine glass twice, as has he with his whiskey. You’re in good spirits.

He orders two cups of tea for dessert. As you sip, he wonders about your family and which part of town you live in. Likewise, you ask him about his development into one of the top pro heroes in Japan. You discover he doesn’t like to boast. He mentions his passion for honing his quirk and being “the best” in his youth. He describes how Best Jeanist, a former Billboard Hero, taught him to concentrate more on contained survival than reckless showing off. All in all, he keeps his story short and sweet.

It sounds like he’s been through a lot. You’re surprised someone with such an action-packed life is into you. The edgiest thing you’ve ever done was taking out a loan to attend graduate school. You thought he would have preferred another hero. Then again, the idea of seeing another forensic detective doesn’t do it for you. You’d rather leave work where it is and retire after a long day. Maybe Katsuki feels the same.

“Well?” He prompts you gruffly.

You blink absently. Did he say something while you were lost in thought? You lift a brow and hum, prompting him to clarify. He rolls his eyes playfully, picking up on how the alcohol has distracted you.

“What did’j’ya think of the meal?”

You beam at him.

“I loved it!”

“You sure? I won’t be offended.”

“Positive! I really enjoyed myself. Thank you, Katsuki.”

You catch a brief smile fluttering across his face. Just as soon as it appears, though, it’s gone. He feels like an idiot for getting flustered by something so simple, but he likes listening to you, and every syllable of his name sounds like heaven on your tongue. In his teenage years, you eliciting this sort of vulnerability would have infuriated him; as an adult, he knows how to calmly identify his emotions and reel them in.

He fucking likes you — that’s the truth. You’re bright and interesting. You encourage him engage with his thoughts and opinions, instead of dismiss them. He’s compelled to learn more about you. He gets the sense that he could converse with you for days and not get bored. You’re a rare breed.

“Ready t’ go?” He prompts you. “I’ll pay and we can head out.”

“You don’t have to pay,” you insist. “I can afford my half.”

“Fat fuckin’ chance.” He snorts. “Lemme get this this one f’r us, princess.”

You huff. Normally, you would want to pay; that way, there are no expectations for later. You’re not sure if you want to put out tonight. He’s playing all his cards right, and the tension is there, but you don’t want this to be a one night stand. When you have crushes on people, you mean them.

“Well… okay.” You concede. “But only if I can get the next one.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey! C’mon!”

“Grab your shit an’ let’s go.”

You groan as you slip on your windbreaker and grab your knapsack. He’s already at the counter, settling the tab. Katsuki escorts you out of the building with a hand on the small of your back. In no time, you’re back on the street.

At this time of night, there aren’t many people walking around. It’s mostly other couples, pacing home or simply enjoying the evening together. The atmosphere is serene. A gentle wind tousles the leaves, adding to the tranquility. You shiver.

Katsuki walks head of you; then, he extends his hand for you to take. You do so with only a smidgen of hesitation this time, trying to trust your budding feelings for him. He reels you closer. Your palms touch his firm chest as he secures you against him. He gazes at you with a ghost of a smirk.

“So, you want there t’ be a next time?”

Reflexively, you laugh. Your face burns as you scramble to respond. You’re not used to being teased this way.

“Um… yeah. I-I guess I do.”

“No more pretendin’ you’re not inta me, then.”

“When you started flirting with me, I thought you were just bored,” you admit sheepishly. “But I k-kinda had a crush on you.”

His grip on you tightens.

“Had?”

“Have.”

“S’what I thought.”

Katsuki isn’t sure if it’s the whiskey or how easy it is to talk to you, but he feels comfortable around you. He wasn’t sure if it would translate as well outside of work — in his eyes, you had the potential to be too good for him. If you want him like he wants you, perhaps there’s a shot. Besides, you’re bound to understand his busy schedule and odd hours, what with you being in law enforcement. So what if you’re not a hero? He’s merely looking for someone he can sync up with.

“Look, I ain’t great at expressin’ my feelings ‘n shit, but I thought you were cute as soon as you showed up t’ that crime scene. Showed me you were smart, too. Down t’ earth. Not just a fuckin’ stiff in a tight skirt.”

You draw yourself into the memory. When you received the call, you arrived earlier than everyone else with your equipment. Officers were stationed around the perimeter, blocking all pedestrian points so you could do your work. Apparently, the victim was a big deal — that’s why Dynamight was assigned to your case. Half of his job was to protect you; the other half was to commence takedown of the scumbag murderer.

You thought he was annoying and pompous when he first appeared, sauntering around the scene like he was in charge. He seemed disinterested, as though he’d rather be doing something else. You didn’t love his attitude. But then, as he started to help — flirting with you, in the process — you witnessed a different side of him. Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but more so that he desensitizes himself to function.

Despite the rumours about him, you recognize that Katsuki has feelings. He gives a damn about victims and keeping civilians safe. Although he’s brash and aggressive in nature, his heart isn’t as icy as people think.

“I always thought you were handsome,” you admit shyly, averting your eyes. “Whenever I saw you on TV, I mean.”

He smirks.

“You’re not a fuckin’ super fan, are ya?”

“No!” You grin. “You’re just always on the News for breaking things, so you’re pretty hard to miss.”

He snorts. You glance at him to see if you crossed a line with your comment. Joy fills your soul when you catch him rubbing his jaw with a large hand, no doubt to hide another smile. If you were anyone else, he’d tell you to fuck off. Because you’re you, he feels his attraction to you soar.

“Shut the hell up an’ tell me when you’re free next week.”

And he seals the deal with a light peck on the cheek. He fights the urge to capture your sweet lips once more, hoping that one day, he won’t have to.

#minors dni #bakugou x forensic detective #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #pro hero bakugou #adult bakugou #bakugou x reader #afab reader #soft bakugou

[moonknightly]

wanna play you over and over again—

KINKTOBER '23 WEEK ONE — Choking + Size Kink + Degradation

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Aggressive fingering, choking, size kink, hand kink, degradation, dirty talk, overall roughness. This is somewhat tame I guess.

KINKTOBER SCHEDULE

“Y’know, you don’t have to be so fucking obvious.”

Miguel’s words shake you from the little daydream you found yourself lost in. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and the spot between your eyebrows tightens as your face pulls down into a frown. 

“What?” you ask him, a certain sharpness to your tone because you really don’t know what he’s talking about, and you don’t appreciate the slight accusation mingling with his words. 

He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated, maybe borderline annoyed. He steps closer to where you’re sitting on the couch, pushing his sleeves up as his legs carry him. The sound of his shoes tapping against the hardwood floors of your apartment is almost ominous in the otherwise silent room and even though you know you have no real reason to be scared, you trust Miguel with your life, it still sets you on edge. It’s predatory, in a way, and you can feel the blood in your veins turn to ice as he finally reaches you and bends down to your height. 

You can smell the whiskey on his breath, the mint he’d popped into his mouth in the car doing little to mask the alcohol. A shiver moves down your spine, causing you to sit up straighter, and you don’t miss the way Miguel’s eyes move down to your chest as you consequently push your body just an inch or two closer to his. 

He licks his lips, his tongue running over the length of one of his fangs and you swallow, nearly forgetting about his earlier comment but when you remember, you physically shake your head as if to clear it.

“What do you mean I don’t need to be so fucking obvious?”

Miguel chuckles quietly, the sound rumbling in this throat. He rolls his eyes again before placing his hands on either side of your body, palms against the cushions, effectively trapping you in. Your gaze flickers down to his fingers and the way they subtly flex against the couch, and then your eyes are tracing along the veins that run through his hands…his big, big hands. 

You gulp. 

Miguel smirks. 

“You’ve been staring at my hands all night, bebita” 

Your eyes snap back to his, and you furrow your eyebrows again. Even though you know it’s true, even though you know you haven’t been able to keep your eyes to yourself, you still try to deny it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Miguel chuckles again and shakes his head, letting it drop in something between amusement and another bout of exasperation. You’re not completely sure which. 

When he looks at you again, his red eyes are darker, almost maroon like a glass of your favorite merlot. You gulp again, subconsciously pushing yourself towards the back of the couch, pulling your knees up onto the cushions and into your chest. Miguel isn’t phased, he only moves with you, continuing to tower over you and trap you in. He’s so big he’s easily able to spread his legs so he has one knee on either side of you, his hands moving to grip the back of the couch right by your shoulders. He leans in until his nose is almost touching yours, and you feel another shiver wrack your body.

It’s too much. Just having him so close, it’s too much. 

And he knows. God, he knows. 

Because he chuckles yet again as he places his hand on your hip, his touch starting out light but as he moves up your sides his grip becomes tighter and tighter until he has his hand wrapped around your neck, nails digging into your skin as he effectively cuts off your air supply.

You would moan if you could, if you could make any sound escape but you can’t. Even if you physically could, you’re not sure your mind would let you. Everything just vanishes from your mind completely. 

And as your eyes glaze over, a lust filled haze taking over your irises, Miguel knows you love it.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about honey,” he coos, his voice almost condescending, almost mean. “You know.”

You did. Everytime he picked up his wine glass at dinner, or when he held your hand on the quick walk home and yours was completely enveloped by his and you couldn’t stop thinking about having it wrapped around your throat like it is now…you knew exactly what he was talking about. 

Miguel let’s go, allowing you a moment or two to pull a fresh rush of air into your lungs. He grips your chin instead, shaking your head gently, silently commanding that you continue giving him your full attention. 

“God, you get so fucking stupid when I’m on top of you, hm? Can’t even think straight.”

His free arm wiggles underneath your knees and he easily maneuvers you until you’re face down ass up on the couch, back arched perfectly for him without Miguel even needing to direct you — you know how he likes you. 

He gently caresses your ass, the quick change in temperment catching you off guard for just a brief moment but then his words pull you back, reminding you that this isn’t something soft or sweet. 

“You’ve wanted my hands all night, haven’t you baby? Haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.”

You whimper quietly, the sound dissolving into a pathetic moan and when you don’t answer, Miguel lands a sharp smack against your ass, causing you to gasp and lurch forward. 

“Answer me.” It’s almost a growl.

“Yes,” you whine, whimpering again when he presses his hips into your ass and you feel his hard cock against you.

“Do you think you deserve them?”

Miguel smacks your ass again, this time twice in a row, and you let out a little scream as the sting blossoms across your backside. 

“I didn’t even do anything bad!” you argue, though you try to make it come across as more of a beg than anything — you don’t feel like being a brat, don’t feel like being punished. He’s hardly done anything, and you’re already craving that sweet relief that only Miguel can give you. 

He hums, as if he’s pretending to think about it for a moment or two, and then he delivers a fourth smack to your ass. “I guess you’re right,” he says simply as he tugs your leggings to rest around your thighs, hands coming up to rub the abused and red skin from where he’d hit you. “All you did was make yourself look like a slut in front of the whole restaurant. Everyone could see the way you were staring at my hands.”

“Miggy no one was even paying attention to-”

You’re cut off by a fifth slap, the pain sharper now that you don’t have your leggings as a barrier — you’d not worn panties, he didn’t need to worry about those getting in the way.

“Do you want my fingers or not?”

Another whimper passes your lips and all you can do is nod — you do, of course you do. 

“Yeah?” he purrs, tilting his head to the side, a movement that you only see out of the corner of your eye. “You want my big fingers stretching out that tiny little cunt? Hm bebita?”

“Yes,” you moan immediately, eyes fluttering close as the pulsing between your legs becomes almost distracting. “Please Miggy? I want to be full of them, please.”

He sighs, like he’s still not sure but it isn’t long before you feel a single one of his long, thick fingers sliding into you with zero resistance from your cunt. 

“You’re dripping honey, and we’ve barely started,” he coos, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you, curling it on every other thrust of his hand to pull the most wanton sounds from your lips.

Your moans turn to full on cries when he pushes a second finger into your eager pussy. He massages your insides gently at first, showing you a little kindness as he allows you to adjust for just a second, but then he quickly finds a pace that’s near brutal. 

He fucks his fingers into you like they’re his cock. His hand is moving so fast, you’re surprised that he doesn’t sprain his wrist if you’re being completely honest. The force of his fingers knocks the air from your lungs, and you can’t decide if you want to keep your eyes wide open or slam them shut while he wrecks you.

“So fucking pretty for me bebita, taking my fingers so well.”

He adds a third finger, and fuck you never understand how Miguel can be three knuckles deep in your pussy when he’s as big as he is. 

Three fingers stretch you completely, and the slight burn is near blissful, arousing in a way you never would’ve thought possible. You feel so full, so stuffed, and you know that three of his fingers don’t even match the girth of his cock. 

You want it. You want his cock so bad, you start begging for it, but Miguel just tsks under his breath while you continue to whine and babble and moan.

“Not yet, not yet,” he snaps, draping himself over your back, forcing your body flush against the couch. “No, you’re going to cum on my fingers first honey. You’re going to gush and leak and squirt all over them, isn’t that right? Like the little slut you are, just for me.”

You feel his words in the pit of your stomach, feel the way they cause that little knot to form and tighten and tighten. 

“Yeah, I know you are.” His breath is hot against your ear, and you gasp when he snakes his free hand underneath your hips to start working at your clit. The pleasure is blinding, searing hot and near overwhelming but you love it. You fucking love it. 

“Miggy, please-”

“Please what bebita? Hm? You’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers honey, fuck, can barely move my fingers you’re so tight and small. Fuck, I want to break you. Want to ruin this little needy hole and-”

Your hearing goes out when your orgasm comes crashing down. Everything feels fuzzy yet sensitive, and you’re somehow floating and freefalling all at the same time. 

Miguel continues to pump his fingers in and out of your fluttering cunt, watching with dark eyes as your wetness drips down his fingers and coats his hand. He doesn’t stop, even when your moans turn to cries and it’s obvious to him that you can’t take it, you’re too sensitive, it’s too much. 

He only stops once he gets a second one out of you, and even then, he doesn’t want to. He wants to keep pushing your body, wants to see how many orgasms he can pluck from your body with his hands alone until you pass out but his pants are unbelievably tight and he thinks he might cum in his pants before you tap out. 

So he pulls his fingers out of you cunt with a wet, salacious pop, and although you don’t have the energy to lift your head completely, you somehow find it in you to turn your head just enough to look at him. 

Miguel sucks his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them of your slick, his red eyes never leaving yours as he relishes in your taste. 

You’re in for a long night.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #oscar isaac #spiderman #spiderman 2099

[mykneeshurt]

Sloth

Artwork by @loneghostwolf <3

Valeria x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, f in v, oral f receiving, overstimulation, squirting

Sigh. I want a night with Valeria. She smells like Baccarat Rouge 540. Exquisite. I’ve written this with two females in mind however this can probably be read as gender neutral if you so wish.

•

Valeria Garza.

El sin Nombre.

Your boss. Your confidant. Your lover.

She laid on your shared bed, entwined between sheets of emerald silk, surrounded by red and gold pillows. Her thigh peeked out from beneath the glossy material, the golden light from the chandelier doused her in a warm glow. A cigarette between her lips as he rested her head on the dark oak headboard. A four poster bed. At her insistence of course.

Everything about Valeria screamed expensive, she smelt of amber and fine wood mixed with a subtle floral note. A Merlot sat in the vintage wine glass which she cradled in the palm of her hand. Waiting for you.

The heavy bedroom door eventually opened and you slipped in, while she loved you dearly she wasn’t ready to go public quite yet. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, she just didn’t want you to be put in any danger. Not that you minded, it was more fun being her little secret. On seeing your form penetrate the darkness of the hall she smiled. A soft yet possessive smile ‘mi Vida’ she hummed.

She looked like a goddess amongst the silk sheets, the hem sat softy underneath her collarbone. Cigarette between her elegant fingers as she finally sipped at the wine. She motioned towards another she had poured for you. After closing the door you climbed into bed next to her, her aroma instantly invaded all your senses. Placing a soft kiss onto her lips she sighed, her umber eyes sparked in a golden hue of the room. Warm and thick.

‘I’ve had a hard day’ she whispered against your lips, it was a statement. Not an observation. You cocked a brow knowing full well what this meant. She wanted to be pleasured, to be worshipped and doted upon. She wanted you to make her feel good while she led there watched you work.

She didn’t want to do anything.

Nothing except feel your tongue graze her folds.

Feel your lips as they travelled down to the juncture of her thighs.

When she was in this mood she was the epitome of sloth.

Nuzzling into her neck you whispered loving phrases as she threw her head back, elongating her neck. You slipped your hand under the sheets to find she was completely naked. Her skin was soft to the touch, she groaned slightly as you drew small circles with your nails. Savouring every scar and blemish under your fingertips.

She rolled her hips slightly, ‘more mi Vida’ she muttered, the artery in her neck kissed your lips with every beat of her heart. You nipped at her ear lobe before trialling kissed down her neck, her collar bone. As you removed the sheet you trailed your tongue down her chest, kissing and sucking on her nipple. She bit her lip as she stubbed out her cigarette in a gold ashtray.

You looked up at her through your lashes as you pulled her nipple between your teeth. ‘Keep going’ she ordered, rolling her hips into you one once more. Using your tongue to map her body you kissed, nipped and licked your way to the juncture of her thighs. Sinking your teeth into the fatty part of the inner thigh she hissed through her teeth, moaning words of praise in her mother tongue.

Pushing her thighs back you kissed her beautiful cunt, glistening from your touch. You dig your nails into her thighs, leaving crescent shaped divots in your wake. Hovering your mouth above her pussy your breath fanned over it, sending a shiver through her spine. Looking up at her she began to pant, her hair messy, strands falling around her face. ‘Please mi amor’ her voice was strained, full of want.

With a devilish smile on your face you swept your tongue along her slit, before resting it on her clit. She jolted at the sudden pressure of your tongue on her bundle of nerves. Her breath became heavy, muscles tensing in her legs as she pointed her toes. She tasted sweet, her arousal coated your tongue as you worked her cunt with your tongue. Leaning back slightly you spat onto her clit, before teasing her hole with your finger. Just one to begin with, tantalisingly slow, in and out. Still giving your undivided attention to her clit, she began to moan your name under her breath.

Hearing your name on her tongue caused you to clench, it was thick like molten gold. You added another finger, stretching her open, she rolled her hips as she slid her fingers in your hair. You thrusted your fingers in rhythm with your tongue, languid and firm. Moaning into her cunt the vibrations tumbled against her causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

Valeria loved nothing more than you eating her pussy, working her holes with your fingers. Watching as you smiled, eyes rolling back at her taste. It got her off as much as it did you. You loved to please her, and if her being a pillow princess doing nothing made her happy, then you were keen to oblige.

The sound of her pussy emanated around the the grand bedroom you both shared. Spurring you on, ‘so good mi Vida’ she panted as she raked her nails along your scalp. Upping your pace you felt her become wetter against your fingers, the mixture of your saliva and her arousal ran down your fingers. A delicious concoction.

She began to tighten around your fingers, her slick walls clamping down on you with every thrust. High pitched moans ricocheted within your ears as you worked her closer to her looming orgasm. ‘Don’t stop, right there’ she panted. ‘Cum for me Val’ you ordered ‘wanna hear you baby.’ She arched her back off the bed, the one emerald sheets now stained a forest green. Placing her hand against the headboard she rode your face, rolling and thrusting her hips against you.

You could read her body well, her breaths were short and shallow, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide as she tongued her swollen bottom lip. ‘Give it to me … fuck Valeria’ you drawled, that’s when she feel over the precipice. Her walls clenched before pulsating on your fingers, sweet strained moans of pleasure engulfed the room. You kept your fingers moving, pushing her further and further.

Her moans turned to pleas for you to stop, overstimulated beyond the wall of pleasure. ‘Oh Val, if you’re gonna lie there I’m gonna take what I want … and you know what I want.’ Your voice was quiet, commanding. Out there she was in charge. In here? It was you.

You placed a tender kiss to her thigh before sliding yourself next to her, ‘open’ you ordered. Pushing your fingers into her mouth she groaned at the taste of herself. Coating your fingers with her saliva, nectar of the gods themselves, you pushed them back into her. She nuzzled into your neck, sweet sweet moans of pleasure rippled into your skin.

Rubbing your fingers against her walls you vibrated them vigorously, pushing her, tormenting her. Her pink coloured nails gripped into you, pinching your skin. ‘Let me have it Valeria, give it to me’ you whispered into her ear. She writhed beneath your touch, jarring her hips, feet pointed and strained.

There came the sound you were waiting for. She became wetter and wetter, until she was gushing. All over your fingers, your hand. Her moans of ecstasy seeped into your lungs as you watched her saturate the bedsheets with her cum. Gripping her jaw you forced her to look at you, ‘good girl.’ Sucking off the remaining arousal you savoured her taste, before cupping her jaw and pulling her into a deep and passionate kiss.

———-

@taurus-ted @luminousbeings-crudematter

#valeria garza #valeria x reader #Valeria x you #call of duty mw2 #mw2 valeria #mw2 #mw2 2022 #mw2 smut #Valeria smut

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 13 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you and Spencer push each other away and find comfort in other people.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer and reader with different people, drinking, flirting, smoking, making out, penetrative sex, protected sex, mention of oral (m receiving), swearing, drunk Spencer.

WC - 4.8k

Chapter 13 - Different Songs

The self proclaimed, “world famous” Wooden Nickel, at two hundred and twenty two Elk Avenue, was sandwiched between Mountain Spirits Liquor Store and the Princess Wine Bar. It had a pink wooden facade with green detailing around the doors and windows and was conveniently located just a short walk from your cabin. 

The inside was all dark leather and even darker wood, its colour scheme oddly similar to Spencer’s apartment. It had an old fireplace with a wrap-around bench for snuggling up and getting warm, dim lighting and deer and elk heads mounted on the walls. 

They had a small and expensive menu on offer but you couldn’t deny the smell of the food cooking that wafted from the kitchen was out of this world. You were taking it all in, eyes bouncing around the room as Spencer seemed to hurriedly lead you with a hand on your lower back to a booth over the back of the room. 

It only took a brief glance at the bar for you to quickly spot the bright red head of hair to know why. You rolled your eyes and he continued motioning you along. 

“You knew she worked here.” You grumbled as you took a seat at the booth. 

“Who?” Spencer shook his head and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was being genuine. 

“Fire engine Mary. There are a ton of bars in this town but when I suggested going out, you insisted you’d heard this one was the best.” You narrowed your eyes on him. “I can leave if you’d like to be alone with her.” 

Spencer wished his dick didn’t twitch when you suggested that but he ignored it, still on his feet. 

“What are you drinking?” He asked, already seemingly halfway to the bar. 

“Cool it, Casanova,” you scoffed, getting to your feet. “I’ll get the drinks.”

“But I…” he started as you pushed him into the seat while rolling your eyes. 

“Scotch, hubby?” You didn’t wait for him to reply before you were turning away and heading towards the bar. 

You purposefully headed straight towards a gap in the section of the bar that Mary was tending, wanting her to know you were here and hopefully seeing you as a threat. You unzipped your jacket as you made your way over, puffing out your chest and making sure the gold band on your finger was on display. 

She smiled at you as you approached but it wasn’t a particularly friendly gesture. 

“Oh hi,” she spoke as you reached the bar. “Daisy was it?” 

“Rose.” You corrected her with a roll of your eyes. 

“Same difference.” She shrugged. “What can I get you?” 

“I’ll have a large glass of Merlot and a double scotch on the rocks for my husband.” You made sure to emphasise the last word. 

“Hmm guess he does have good taste in some things.” Mary clucked, turning her back on you to fix your drinks. 

You slammed your hands on the bar top, ready to leap over the counter and slap this silly bitch around the face but before you could make another move, a hand was on your shoulder. 

Assuming it would be Spencer, you turned with a heavy frown which quickly faded when you found yourself staring into the eyes of someone who was most certainly not your fake husband. 

The man in question was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His brown eyes were so soft but so alluring as they regarded you, his smile reaching right up to them. He had jet black hair which was swept back off his face and a thick beard which matched in colour. His smile just about lit up the whole damn room. 

“Don’t mind Mary.” He spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice. “She’s feisty.” 

“I’m feistier.” You countered making the stranger chuckle. 

“I’ll bet.” He continued to laugh and it was so deep you felt it vibrate your soul. “I’m Jesse. Jesse McGill.” 

“McGill?” You shook his hand which he offered to you. “As in the diner?”

“My pop’s place. I work there during the off season. In the winter I’m a snowboard instructor.” 

The look he was giving you made you a little weak at the knees and for a moment you forgot all about Spencer and Mary and anything that didn’t directly pertain to Jesse in front of you. 

“You must be pretty athletic then.” Your eyes wandered of their own accord, taking in his tight black tee which hugged strong, tattooed biceps. They continued down to his equally tight jeans and you couldn’t help but wonder how amazing his ass might look in them. 

“I guess.” He chuckled again and you might actually collapse if he kept doing that. “What’s your name?”

“Rose. Burnett.” You nodded, trying to focus your brain on simple conversation and not get caught up imagining what this stranger might be like in bed. 

“Beautiful. It suits you.” He smiled so brightly at you, you felt your brain melting inside your head. 

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could, the sound of glasses slamming down on the counter top startled you. 

“Careful, Jesse,” Mary’s smug voice entered your ears. “She’s married.” 

You turned to her and shot her a look that was angrier than it should have been and she simply smiled at you. 

“I’ll open you a tab, hon. It’ll be under Daisy.” Mary looked pleased with herself as she turned and walked away. 

You took a calming breath before you turned back to Jesse who looked a little downtrodden. 

“It’s my fault, I didn’t notice the ring.” He smiled a little sadly. 

“Yeah.” You rolled your lip between your teeth, wishing you could tell him it wasn’t a real marriage but of course that would be dangerous. “It was really nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” He nodded at you. “And seriously, don’t pay any attention to Mary, she’s all bark and no bite.” 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” You picked up your drinks and took one more glance at Jesse before you forced yourself to walk away. 

You physically had to drag yourself back over to Spencer and dropped into the booth with a small huff, pushing his drink across the table towards him.

“I was about to send out a search party. Where the hell did you go?” He shook his head at you. 

“Your girlfriend was giving me hassle.” You sighed, sipping your wine. 

“Jealous?” Spencer cocked his eyebrow at you in amusement. 

“Of her? Please.” You scoffed. 

Your eyes wandered back towards the bar and landed on the side of Jesse’s face as he talked to another man. From the side you could really appreciate his bone structure, he clearly had a strong jawline hidden under that beard. Your mind quickly wandered right down a gutter and you couldn’t help but picture what that beard would feel like between your legs. 

You clenched your thighs together under the table and felt your cheeks flushing a little. Spencer frowned watching your cheeks pink up and followed your gaze over to the bar. 

He rolled his eyes, downing at least half of the scotch in one as he saw what you were staring at. He felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, a protectiveness washing over him. 

“Does he know you’re married?” He spat, causing your eyes to snap back to him. 

“Not really married.” You rolled your eyes. “But yes, your scarlet harlot ratted me out.”

“Good.” Spencer scoffed, sitting back in the booth. “You better stay away from him.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” He pulled a face. 

“So it’s ok for you to flirt with the young bimbo but I can’t talk to a handsome, age appropriate man?” You glared at him.

He sat forward in his chair again, his facial expression softening slightly. But then he slammed his palms against the table, causing you to jump a little at the sound. You could tell instantly that the light switch had flipped once more and gone was the sweet, awkward Spencer you cared about. 

“You belong to me.” He spoke calmly. “I’ve already told you that, princess. You are mine.” 

“But you don’t belong to me?” 

“Correct.” He smirked, sipping from his glass again.

“That doesn’t work for me.” You shook your head. 

“Too bad, sweetheart.” 

You clenched your jaw, looking up at Jesse again as he was slipping a thick winter coat on and heading to the door. You downed your wine in one and dropped the glass back to the table. 

“Spencer, with all due respect,” you stood up, grabbing your coat and purse. “Go to hell.” 

“Y/N,” he spoke in a warning tone, trying to grab your arm as you passed. “Y/N…Rose! Come back here!” 

You didn’t turn back around, just continued towards the door hoping you’d annoyed him as much as you’d wanted to. 

Spencer picked up his glass and slammed it back on the table in his frustration, swearing under his breath. He lifted the glass a second time and finished the contents and as he was about to follow you, someone was sliding into the booth next to him and blocking his exit. 

Mary was giving him the most sultry smile, her eyes dripping with lust as she leant in close to him. Her long nail grazed along his cheek, down his neck and dipped just slightly beneath the collar of his purple button down. 

“Finally, I never thought she’d leave.” She breathed, pushing her chest out toward him. 

Her featherlight touch on the sensitive skin just beneath his collarbone combined the delicious look she was giving him banished all thoughts of you from his mind. And when he leant even closer and put his large hand on her thigh, he wasn’t thinking of you at all. 

“Me either.” He smirked at her dangerously, moving in even closer still and ghosting his lips over the shell of her ear. “You wanna get out of here, princess?” 

***

Shoving open the door of the Wooden Nickel and stepping out into the cold, you were kept warm by a blanket of anger towards Spencer. 

He thought he owned you, how dare he? You wanted to prove him wrong more than anything else in the world. 

The sound of a lighter flickering caught your attention and you turned to your left to find Jesse leaning up against the side of the bar, a cigarette cradled between his lips. He smiled at you around it. 

“Following me?” His eyebrow cocked in amusement. 

“What if I said I was?” You sidled over to him.

Feeling brazen you reached and took the cigarette from his lips before taking a puff on it. You weren’t strictly a smoker, but you’d had one or two on occasion, usually when you drank a lot. He watched the way your lips wrapped around the butt and you inhaled the smoke before delicately exhaling it and handing him back the cigarette. 

“What would your husband think of that, Rose?” He licked his bottom lip. 

“My husband is a drunk. A bully. And I’m fairly certain he will have his hands too full with a certain slutty redhead to even notice I’m not there.” You shrugged, trying not to sound too bitter. 

“You like cocktails, Rose?” He pushed himself away from the wall. 

“Sure.” You nodded at him. 

“Come with me.” He placed his hand on your back and started leading you away from the Wooden Nickel, in the direction of 3rd Street. 

He kept his hand on your back, using his other to drag on the cigarette as the two of you walked. When Spencer led you in this way you felt controlled, but when Jesse did it you felt safe. 

You let him lead you across the street and up the road to an old wooden building that used to be an old miners cabin. It had a crude, handwritten sign over the door claiming it as The Dogwood. Inside was small and cosy, but nonetheless bustling. Jesse motioned you towards the bar where several people greeted him with smiles and waves.

“Mini Gill, good to see ya, boy.” The ageing, bearded man behind the bar leant across the counter and shook Jesse's hand. 

“Good to see you too, Mac.” He smiled amiably but the old man, Mac, was already looking at you. 

“And who is your friend?” He asked Jesse but he was eyeing you up and down. 

“This is Rose, she’s…on vacation? Or are you planning on staying?” He asked you with a small frown. 

“Undecided.” You offered him a smile, quickly and subtly sliding off the gold wedding band and slotting it into your pocket before you held your hand out to shake Mac’s. “Nice to meet you.” 

“She’s cute.” Mac wiggled his eyebrows at Jesse. 

“She is.” Jesse agreed with a shy smile. “Can we get some drinks and not scare the pretty lady away?” 

You felt your cheeks burning and you looked away, finding a menu and focusing on that instead. But no sooner had you picked it up, you found it being plucked from your hand.

“You like vodka?” Mac grinned at you. 

“Sure.” You nodded.

“I have the perfect drink for you. I call it the Rosebud.” He beamed brightly. 

“Sounds great.” You smiled back. 

“Sure you want a rosebud too, dontcha Mini Gill?” Mac winked at Jesse, causing the younger man to turn about fifty shades of red. 

“Jesus Christ, Mac.” He muttered under his breath. “I’ll just have a beer.” 

“IPA or stout?”

“Surprise me.” Jesse sighed. 

Mac chuckled to himself as he went about his business making the drinks. You were smiling in amusement at Jesse.

“Not everyone in this town is like this, I swear.” He sidled up to you. “I apologise if he made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Who’s uncomfortable?” You giggled. “So, Mini Gill? Adorable, truly.” 

“Mac and my pops have known each other since before I was born. Apparently when my ma was pregnant with me, that’s what he called me. Almost forty years later and I’m still Mini Gill.” He laughed with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“How did that make it even more adorable?” 

“Stop it.” He waved a hand. “You keep saying nice things to me and I’m going to do something very stupid.” 

Your stomach tightened when his hand came to your face and cupped your cheek in the most delicate way you’d ever been touched before. His fingers brushed your hair behind your ear and you had to swallow thickly. 

“Define stupid.” You croaked, feeling a little dizzy.

“How ‘bout I show you?” He leant closer and you nodded frantically. 

When he gently pressed his lips against yours you were instantly smitten, letting him cautiously part your lips and slide his tongue inside your mouth. Your knees buckled at the tender way in which he kissed you, and you reached out to grip his firm bicep to keep you on your feet. 

His wiry beard was a little scratchy but it felt wonderful. His hold on your face was so light, as if you were the most fragile creature in the world. You hummed against his lips, never wanting this moment to end. 

But soon enough someone was clearing their throat and the two of you sprung apart, your cheeks burning with embarrassment at the way Mac was looking between the two of you in subtle glee. 

“I knew you wanted a rosebud, Mini Gill.” Mac winked at Jesse again, sliding your drinks across the bar before strolling away. 

When Jesse looked back at you, you were laughing and you quickly gripped him by the lapels of his jacket and tugged him in close for another kiss. 

***

Out the back of the Wooden Nickel, Spencer had Mary bent over a dumpster, her skirt pulled up to her hips while his slacks and underwear were tugged down to his thighs. 

She’d been prepared for this judging by the tiniest little lace thong she was wearing and the condom she’d handed him from her jacket pocket. He had one hand down the front of her shirt, teasing her nipple between his fingers and the other flush on the dumpster to steady himself.

She spread her legs for him, pushing her ass back against his dick which found its way between her legs and plunged inside of her. 

Foreplay hadn’t lasted very long. She’d dropped to her knees and sucked him off when she’d first gotten him out here but if he were perfectly honest, she wasn’t all that good at it, not like you were anyway. He fingered her in return, mostly to get her ready for his large member. 

She practically howled as he entered her, clearly not used to taking cocks as big as his. He felt her pulsing and stretching around him but not in the way you did when he fucked you. 

It was good. It was enjoyable. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t be able to finish; it just might take longer than usual. But that wasn’t entirely Mary’s fault, the condom certainly didn’t help. And Mary couldn’t help that she wasn’t you. 

He continued his thrusts, gripping the back of Mary’s fire engine red hair and balling up on his fist, tugging on it like a leash. He closed his eyes and just focused on the way it felt, filtered everything else out. 

It was good. It was enjoyable. But fuck, it wasn’t you. 

He came eventually, whether Mary did or not was another thing entirely. He pulled out and stripped off the condom, tossing it in the dumpster while she turned around and repositioned her panties and smoothed down her skirt. He tucked himself away and did up his pants. 

Even in the dimly lit side alley, he could see a small blush creeping to her cheeks and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes. 

I knew it. You’re all talk, all false bravado. And now I’ve actually slept with you and you’re vulnerable the insecurities are going to come any second…

“Was that…did you uh, enjoy that?” She seemed to flinch at her own words and Spencer felt bad for her. 

Despite wanting to scoff and simply turn and leave her here he fought against it, he had no idea how long he’d be in this town and he could use with someone on his side. Especially when you weren’t. 

“It was great, sweetheart.” He gently stroked her messy hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “But I am married. So we need to keep this quiet ok?” 

“Of course.” She nodded, looking much like a frightened deer. It was such a stark contrast to her flirtatiousness earlier. 

“Thank you.” He leant in and placed a chaste kiss on her lips before letting his hand fall to his side. “I’m gonna go ok? You should be working right?” 

“Shit, yeah.” She suddenly snapped out of her post-sex daze. “I’ll see you, yeah?”

“Sure.” He nodded, watching as she quickly hurried back down the alley. 

Spencer exhaled, shaking his head a little at his own stupidity. Not only had he probably led that poor girl on but he’d betrayed you. Was it cheating? The two of you had never defined what you were beyond partners in crime, but it felt like he’d been disloyal. 

Sleeping with Mary was supposed to be fun, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about you and how she wasn’t you. How her body wasn’t yours, how it didn’t respond to him the way yours did. How it didn’t feel anywhere near as amazing to be with her as it did with you.

He could deny it all he wanted, skirt around the issue but he was just as bound to you as you were to him. He let you in and you were there to stay. He was in love with you, it was as simple as that. 

God he was a fucking moron. 

He dragged himself out of the alley, needing a drink or more accurately, several. He found another bar down the street, not much wanting to show his face in the Wooden Nickel again right now. He ambled into The Secret Stash keeping his head down and ordered four shots in quick succession. 

But that was only the beginning. 

***

Jesse insisted on walking you back to the cabin and the tension that surrounded you was palpable. He was sweet, and a very good kisser. You didn’t have to worry about his mood shifting like Spencer. He was the kind of guy you thought Spencer was. 

For less than twenty four hours Spencer had shown you bliss, found this perfect little place for you to live and lulled you into believing things were going to be ok between you. But all it had taken was one pretty, young thing walking his way and you became old news. And you certainly weren’t going to wait around for him forever. 

Jesse walked you up the little cobbled path and the two of you came to a stop just by the steps leading to the porch. 

“So,” he smiled a little wistfully. “As amazing as tonight has been I can’t help but keep remembering that you’re married.” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing thickly. “It’s not…it’s really complicated. I guess you could say it’s a convience thing? He’s more my friend than a husband, if that makes any semblance of sense.”

“Not really.” He chuckled lightly. “You’re trying to say it’s not a real marriage?”

“I guess. It’s…we’re not together like a couple? Kissing you wasn’t exactly cheating, and I’m fairly certain he was doing a lot more than just kissing someone else tonight so, yeah.” 

“I really don’t understand.” He laughed again, stepping closer to you and cupping your cheek in his hand. “But is he going to kick my ass if I kiss you again?”

“I’d like to see him try. You saw how weedy he is right?” You smirked, edging closer to him. “But in seriousness, he would have no right to kick your ass even if he could.” 

“I don’t want to step on any toes.” He leaned even closer, his breath fanning across your face. 

“No one’s having their toes stepped on, trust me.” You encouraged him and it seemed to be all he needed to hear as he closed the small space between you and kissed you again. 

You melted into him, the same way you had every time he’d kissed you tonight. You’d felt like a giddy teenager, making out with a hot guy until your lips were swollen and puffy. With all the time you’d spent with your lips on each other tonight you’d barely had anything to drink. 

The same could not be said about your husband. 

It just turned midnight as you were succumbing to Jesse and the kiss, when you heard shuffling nearby and you reluctantly pulled away from him and glanced down the path. 

Spencer was stumbling on his feet, barely able to take a step without nearly falling down. His eyes were clearly glazed over as he stared angrily at the two of you and attempted to make his way up to the cabin. 

You held your breath as he ambled towards you, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into. Spencer was surely going to blow his lid, maybe he would try to kick Jesse’s ass, although you had no doubts that Jesse was stronger and had the added advantage of not being wasted. 

He reached you, looking between the two of you for a moment or two before he huffed out a breath. 

“Leave.” He spat at Jesse as he pushed between the two of you and struggled up the few steps to the porch. 

“Spen…” you quickly stopped yourself before correcting what you were going to say. “Andrew, how much have you had to drink?” 

He spun on his heels, almost falling right back down the stairs but managing to grab the wall to steady himself. 

“I said leave.” He repeated looking at Jesse, clearly ignoring you. “Unless you plan to fuck my wife on my doorstep. Leave now.” 

He turned again and fumbled in locating his keys while you and Jesse watched on like misbehaved children. He finally got them out of his pocket and shoved the key in the door, getting it open and forcing his way inside. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth and offered Jesse a slightly melancholy smile. 

“I should make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or break something.” You took a step backwards. “Can I see you tomorrow?” 

“I’m really not looking to get into the middle of something complicated.” He shrugged. “I like you, Rose, but I’ve had my share of complicated when it comes to women and I don’t really think I can put myself in that sort of situation again.” 

“Jesse, let me…” you trailed off when you heard a crash from inside the house. You glanced towards the open door and sighed before looking back at Jesse. “Just meet me for lunch tomorrow and we can talk, ok?” 

He sighed but nodded his head all the same. 

“As long as it’s not at my dad’s place.” 

“Anywhere.” Another crash startled you and you rolled your eyes. “But right now I really gotta go.” 

“I’ll swing by and pick you up around lunch time.” 

You dared to lean in and place a chaste kiss on his cheek before stepping away again. He smiled sadly at you before he turned and started down the path. 

You turned back to the house just another crash sounded out. You exhaled heavily, already knowing you were walking into a war zone and it was possible only one of you would make it out of this alive. Quite literally. You forced yourself to move, slowly up the front steps as you braced yourself for what was to come. 

It was funny how quickly things could change. Just as you and Spencer seemed to be on the same page, he’d jumped ahead again. You’d been humming the same tune for a brief moment in time and then suddenly you’d been singing completely different songs all together. Maybe he’d teach you the lyrics, but you had a feeling you were on your own on this one. 

The melody was just a little too fast for you to keep up, and maybe that had been the point. Maybe he didn’t want you to keep up so he could sing along with someone else instead. 

Fresh out the box, shiny and new,

Played it so much 'til it went out of tune,

I tighten the peg 'til the tension erupts,

Didn't think that I could give up.

The record I spun when I was young,

Spoke to my heart and fit just like a glove.

But now that it's played out, the needle is worn,

Didn't think that I could give up.

What changed? What changed?

It's more than just our age,

Or how the music tastes, so I'm asking,

"What changed? What changed?"

'Cause now we're singing different songs,

Forgetting how to sing along together.

When every note comes out so wrong,

It keeps on getting harder to remember,

The melodies or what the lyrics mean,

'Cause now we're singing different songs.

Forgetting how to sing along together.

We once called it love, devolved into lust,

Jealousy speaks out to silence the trust.

We temper our words 'cause we're scared of the truth,

Humming tunes that we can't get through.

When I hear your voice, I hear someone else,

The stress on my heart's getting bad for my health.

So should we admit that we've both had enough?

Didn't think that we could give up.

So what changed? What changed?

It's more than just our age,

Or how the music tastes, so I'm asking?

"What changed? What changed?"

'Cause now we're singing different songs,

Forgetting how to sing along together.

When every note comes out so wrong,

It keeps on getting harder to remember,

The melodies, or what the lyrics mean,

'Cause now we're singing different songs.

Forgetting how to sing along together.

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh).

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh).

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh).

Can't sing along together,

Face to face, so far apart.

We're worlds away from what we were before, before, before.

We started singing different songs (singing different songs),

Forgetting how to sing along together.

When every note comes out so wrong (comes out so wrong),

It keeps on getting harder to remember (hey, hey, remember),

The melodies or what the lyrics mean (lyrics mean),

'Cause now we're singing different songs.

Forgetting how to sing along together.

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh).

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh).

Oh-whoa-oh-oh (oh-whoa-oh-oh),

Can't sing along together.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #unsub spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s Songs (XX): No Body No Crime.

Imagine you uncover Aemond Targaryen’s crimes… until you fall in his trap.

Warnings: smut, incest, drama, fluffy endings.

***

• He did it. He did it…

You enjoy more than what’s appropriate how he indecently holds you, like an unprotected boy who needs assurance of firm, truthful affections. Your body is warmer when his strong arms snake around your waist, unintentionally brushing against your nipples underneath your nightgown.

You wish you did not feel it. It’s sinful, notwithstanding this is an old practice in your family. However, under the sphere of influence of your mother makes you feel repulse at it. Or it’s what you tell yourself since the repulse is only because he doesn’t see you the way you might.

That night you cannot breathe. His breath is hot against your neck, you hear his snore, and you wish you were as pure as your elder sister Helaena. But it appears your innocence exists only on the outside.

As Aemond presses his body on you, your thoughts drift at an alternative universe where he would kiss your neck and explore your nipples with his hands… whispering things you’ve only heard doing with his…whore.

You grumble under your breath, turning subtly and in quiet riot on him. Then the fire dragon dies subsequently at the sweet face your eyes scan, that face whose features conceal an alluring darkness that draws you to him.

Your twin. Your other half, your partner, whose soul is linked to yours for reasons unknown. As you watch him sleep, with no eye-patch to his away his scar, you read through him.

You know why he comes at you instead of her and this gives you small percentages of pleasure, a deliciously tasted illusion upon which the desires of your heart drink to.

As you pull away discreetly the few silver locks that fall on his face, you mumble, lips barely touching:

“Must you always beseech war, my prince?”

And you feel tempted to add that in you he finds peace, but you say nothing, not when you spot tragedy crudely exposed. When he hugs you, it is as if moon and sun meet. It is as if an eclipse rises…

***

• We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine. Este's been losing sleep. Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity. She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth". "That ain't my jewelry on our joint account". No, there ain't no doubt. I think I'm gonna call him out…

“Infidelity is not always physical, but an aching that begins at the heart”, your sister muses at you in one of these days she gets into your brain like a prophetess.

She looks into your eyes as if she can read your future. What she may not know is that you too possess the ability of dreaming. It just comes perhaps in other shades.

“Treason often starts with ill intentions, whichever these may be”, you agree.

Yet, the conversation disrupts something that troubles your conscience. Specially when you know what he’s about to do, what path Aemond is going to take and in many ways it’s treacherous and horrendous. But you are comprehensive at it.

Later the same day, as you walk to the gardens, Aemond comes to meet you. It’s a sight to behold, the embodiment of innocence—a stark contrast to the darkness there is in him.

“Y/Nickname”, his husky voice startles you, but he sees how easily affected you are towards him.

A good observer like him needs little to see. He’s aware of how your body reacts to his, how synchronized you both are, sharing a unique connection that always binds him to you.

“Aemond, darling”, you turn abruptly and without thinking twice you run to him.

He smiles to himself as he is engulfed in your arms, tasting a rare sentiment of peace that only your company provides him. For some reason, the prince admonishes himself for letting be easily dragged into your kindness, mesmerized by your alluring beauty that matches his dragon fire.

Cleaning his thoughts, Aemond has to remember himself the reason why he’s here. Reluctantly he parts, his heart aching when detecting sadness in your eyes, aware of how attached you are to him.

“I need a favor.”

“Of course you do.”

Aemond blushes, fighting away remorse.

“Don’t look at me like that, my sweet. You know you’re the only one of this family I trust, aside Helaena, but it’s with you I am connected to, emotionally and carnally.”

You sigh, hands resting on your waist. Aemond’s good eye seems to see you as who you are, not as the epitome of handsomeness, but as the woman you’ve become. The gown you dress is silk green with short sleeves, showing some cleavage. He swallows, fighting away this strange urge of possessing you right here right there.

“Tell me, what’s it you require of me?”

“How you speak it makes me sound I only come for you to pursuit redemption for my sins. Though now that it occurs me this may be true.” He chuckles, but there is no joy in him. It’s when his true self comes to surface. “I think I’ve started a war.”

You barely blink, and every sexual tension in the air dissipates as you pale. You are suddenly dizzy and Aemond has to hold your elbows, leading you to a spot nearby.

“D-Do not think ill of me, I ask you this”, he begs, never before looking nor sounding so fragile.

You soften at him, cupping his cheeks before resting your forehead against his.

“I shall not, this I assure you. I suspect I’ve always sensed somehow due to our bond.”

Aemond’s long hands stroke your hair before sliding to your neck, there hesitating for a few seconds before breaking into an embrace in complete ignorance of how deeply he affects you.

“How can you be so good to me? I do not deserve you, Y/Nickname. You’re the only one who understands me”, so he snorts. “How can this be?”

You should not say it, nor think it, but Aemond is not entirely surprised when he hears these next words of you:

“You are my other half, Aemond. I could never refuse you anything.”

You close your eyes, subtly agreeing to be the one to hold his darkest secrets. The prince doesn’t know it yet, but he loves you for it.

***

• I think he did it but I just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime but I ain't letting up until the day I die. No, no. I think he did it. No, no. He did it…

You are bathing yourself at a lake with your sister. With no witnesses, both of you are deprived of your clothes, chuckling at such a defiant moment, aware this would raise your mother’s sharp reprehension.

It’s when he comes, since Aemond is sent to summon you and Helaena. The moment he finds you with your long locks completely wet, exposed in such a state under the sunlights… he freezes.

Aemond’s good eye stares at the happiness glinting behind your lilac gaze, watching how you throw yourself at the grass before standing and getting ready to dive in. He lingers at the sight of your firm breasts and large hips, good thighs to hold on.

His body may react at it. Worse than being mesmerized by you is that he’s caught staring at you.

“Aemond!”, you let a cry out, instantly going red before diving in.

Trying to conceal his boner, Aemond too blushes. Not until now he realized how easily you affect him. He clears his throat before saying:

“Mother is summoning.”

And then like the wind he disappears, leaving a hole where there is a heart beating in your chest.

“I think he’s fond of you”, says Helaena in giggles. “Marry him and the merrier you’ll be, dear sister.”

You hate how red your face is.

“Allow me to disagree, my beloved. Haven’t you heard he’s taken to his bed a bastard named Alys Rivers?”

The Queen laughs quietly at the jealousy that escapes your reasoning. You swim for a little more before getting yourselves dressed, back to meet your mother.

“Carnal needs are hardly met by the ones of the heart, my sister.” And then, before you two disappear into the castle, she mysteriously whispers: “You are the one he needs the most… considering the wayward path the gods chose him to follow.”

*

• Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen and I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me ("She was with me dude"). Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy…

You omit his illicit affairs, not judging him for doing so. You watch as your mother, Queen Alicent, scowls at her dysfunctional children for their misbehavior on a war she attempted to prevent—more likely as she addresses the word to Aegon and Aemond.

Civil war has brokered out and the Seven Kingdoms bleed for Lucerys Velaryon. However, no judgement is found in your eyes as Aemond is scowled upon.

“You should be married to a noblewoman by now”, she says. “Perhaps a Baratheon lady, since this is a house loyal to us. Don’t give me this look, Aemond Targaryen, after disgracing us before the Gods.”

You pity his future wife, knowing his heart and flesh are tied to another woman. Aemond sees how quiet you’ve been in comparison to Aegon and Helaena’s odd bubbling and Daeron’s impatience at how this gleefully dinner is going.

“No body has been found”, you dare to raise your voice and instantly every sound dies. Aemond raises eyebrows and so do the others. You blush, but persist in your speech. “How can anyone think Aemond did it?”

Alicent looks at her daughter, puzzled by your sudden defense of your brother.

“My darling child, I’ve always judged you had put your brain to better use.”

You tilt your head.

“Why, my mother. Has the prince my brother spoken anything at all? You assumed he committed a crime by facts that were brought out by our enemies. Give him some credit!”

Opting to believe that your staunch belief that Aemond is innocent by all costs comes rather from your unshakable faith than your cynicism, Alicent limits herself to laugh away your arguments.

“Y/N, I am not tolerating this. Be quiet and meddle not where you are not concerned!”

It’s enough to cast a shadow in your rarely sentimental display. Disappointed, you are back to your seat, missing the thankful gaze Aemond shoots at you.

Yet, restless as you are, the crowed room does not silence you…

Until Gerold Hightower, unusual guest and witness of his Targaryens cousins squabbling, invites you for a dance. This angers the prince, who projects his frustrations at his mother.

Whilst the world burns in flames, you release your energy when you take your cousin’s hand and let be led him to dance, tired of caring, tired of feeling feelings that are the result of others deeds, you just want to be conducted out of this troubled world.

*

It’s late night when Aemond comes to your privy chambers. He needs you, his partner, his other half. The prince needs to reach his particular heaven, to gravitate to his sun.

You are just slipping inside the soft Dornish sheets when he follows you.

“Goodness me!”, you let a cry out when seeing Aemond next to you. “Aemond! I hate when you do that!”

“You don’t!”, he chuckles before poking your sides. “I’ve always done it and you never complained it.”

You squeak, falling into laughters as he tickles your side until you are breathless and laying on his lap.

“What brings you here, Aem?”, you ask him eventually rolling back on your side of bed.

He throws himself back at your bed, hands behind his neck, never unlocking the gaze you hold.

“I missed you”, he takes your fingers and interlock with his. “Your sweet disposition, your wit… everything I cannot be, the embodiment of virtues I cannot possess…”

You turn abruptly at him, and Aemond realizes how beautiful you look under candlelight, with a few locks dropping on your brow. He promptly takes them and puts behind your ear, diving in your lilac eyes and seeing the protest that has been forming in your mind.

“You are good. I know my prince, my other half.”

His gaze lingers at you, but lowers too to your neck. You still wear the necklace he gave you many moons ago, the day you reached ten and three summers. Aemond smirks, peeking your pink nipples that are this close to leave your nightgown.

“You do not what you say”, he quickly looks away, now stroking your cheek. “Such a faithful woman.”

“What a faithless man you’ve become”, you put him to an embrace, caressing his long locks, playing with your hand as he nuzzles against your neck, which makes you shake lightly.

Aemond cannot help a smile, feeling what you feel. This unusual connection never ended, he sees it now. It remains strong enough to erase him… the woman he’d publicly made his paramour.

As if you read his thoughts, you speak with a hint of disdain in your voice:

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”

Aemond detects the poorly dissimulated jealousy he finds in you and it makes him smile. You two really complete the other.

“What makes you think I have another place to be at?”

He now plays with the necklace and you pretend you do not feel that old ache rising to burn what’s between your legs. Aemond, however, spots the moment your nipples get hard. He sighs in content, pleased to have his confirmation. But the prince is in no rush to stop enjoying it.

He remembers the day he had an inter course with lady Alys and it does scare him that he came to climax thinking of you.

Aemond blushes at the memory.

“We all know the woman you are devoted to”, you say, gently turning against him in a manner to push him away.

“Come on, now, love. Do not do that”, he pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder, snaking his arms around your waist. “Who am I without my fiercest defender?”

Gently, he places a kiss on top of your shoulder, eyes glued at your face, part of him praying not to be shooed away. You don’t do so, but neither give in as he hopes.

“Somebody’s husband and paramour”, you snark sarcastically, folding your arms.

Aemond chuckles, between annoyed and amused at your words. You try to ignore how suddenly his hand rest in your belly, pushing gently your nightgown as in a way to make you look at him.

You feel your breasts are about to leave the cloth that covers each, so you are about to adjust yourself when you find yourself locked in his arms. It doesn’t help you how he puts a knee to part your legs and discreetly lay in your womanhood.

Which of course messes with your reason, but you still hesitate.

“What do you think you are doing? Do you take me as your whore?!”, you frown, already moody because fire now burns your belly.

“Never”, Aemond scoffs at you, speaking more seriously now. “I meant every word I said. You are dear to me, my sweet loving sister to whom I devout myself to.”

You sigh, unsure what to say. You rest your head against his shoulder now, unknowing what to say.

“I think you keep too much to yourself”, he whispers, gently pressing his knee into your womanhood, earning a gasp that makes him smirk.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”, you protest rather weakly.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?”, he looks down at you, his fingers now stroking your face before letting his index finger brush over your rosy lips.

“Notice what?”, by now your voice betrays you and almost unconsciously you rub onto his knee.

Aemond holds back a heavy sigh, sensing a boner growing the moment you suck his finger.

“You know what”, he takes it out of your lips and lifting your nightgown, slowly inserts it in your core. “There is no need to repress yourself, my love.”

You flutter your eyelashes, barely believing in what is happening. Your mouth forms an “o” as his finger investigates you, sliding farther before being joined by a second finger.

“Heavens!”, you throw your head back at the pillow, his gaze burning you.

“Yes”, he looks at your mouth, wondering what’s like to kiss it, to taste your tongue, but the prince is patient. Even if it arouses him to an unbearable point where his boner is troubling his self control. “Burn with me. It’s something you have always wanted haven’t you?”

He smirks as you arch your back, giving in completely.

“How’d you know?”, you ask in between whimpers.

Closing the distance between your lips, he says:

“What you feel I feel. The fire burning you inside, consuming desperately all that you heave…”, he bites your bottom lip, increasing the pace of his fingering. “I felt it too. You should have woken me up, told me countless times…”

“Aemond!”, you whimper under his good care of you.

No words are needed to be said. The moment his lips collide against yours coincides with when your legs are heavier, as if you are levitating, and then…

Every tension dissipates.

“I love you”. Aemond whispers against your ear, cuddling you protectively.

Rolling onto him, you kiss him again.

“I love you”, you mewl under his care, locking him still with your legs as his hands help removing you out of your nightgown.

“That day I spotted you at the lake”, says he, whose famine hands are now pursuing your freed nipples, which make you moan quite loudly. “Got me into another woman’s bed that wasn’t yours.”

You purr under his words, forsaking reason and good sense at your best. It is insensible to fight your heart’s desire, to not be consumed by the fire as he burns you with the other part of you he possesses so well.

“Aemond”, you moan out his name as his hands begin to play with your weak spots.

When he’s with you, no need there is to conceal who he truly is. His eye-patch is not there to hide away his scar, as well as others begin to be seen when your hand removes his clothes.

“Will you stay?”, you ask, insecurity shadowing the moment m.

Aemond looks into your eyes as he holds your face with both hands.

“Yes, my sweet princess. I shall make you my wife…”

“Lawfully”, you hint at refusing becoming his mistress.

Aemond chuckles.

“Lawfully”, he agrees.

So he kisses you.

***

• They think she did it but they just can't prove it. She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime…

You are there when another crime happens. Aemond has been committed to his word. You are going to be espoused by your twin, thus respecting the Targaryen tradition that has been followed for ages.

But to every great delight is followed by a greater torment.

You are the one looking after your niece and nephew with your sister today. She’s been occupied with sewing and you are noticing sadness growing so suddenly in her features. You know what cause is there—you dreamed about it too, the loss of the precious Jaehaera and her twin Jaehaerys. The image daunts you.

As if moved by strange instinct, you summon them:

“My darlings, come here. I want to show you something…”

It happens very fast. Before the twins come to you, the royal privy chambers are taken by two strangers. Lowborn men dressing nothing but wickedness in their eyes take possess of the heirs of the crown.

“My children!”, Helaena squeaks. “Lords, please! Give them back to me!”

You try to get to the door, but not only it’s locked as the man who holds Jaehaerys slaps hard on your face, making you fall.

“An eye for an eye… But maybe this can be prevented if you choose one of your children to be saved!”

You panic, and so does Helaena. The older one that smells bad and holds a fanciful dagger says:

“Well? Beauty is not eternal, Madame. So perhaps you’d like to continue the lineage with your prince and let your princess attend the divine call?”

“This is not a divine call”, you scream. “It’s a crime!”

You try to find a weapon to avenge your sister, who is too nervous and shocked, having a breakdown at the scene, but the next thing you know you get yourself to a fight.

The next event was not predicted by Helaena. You jump into the back of the man who’s kidnapping Jaehaerys and thus release the boy. As you try to steal the man’s dagger, you manage to hurt him, which makes his partner get himself distracted and promoted to help him.

Whatever the case, you are not Aemond and your lack of strength is only an advantage to cause distraction. It works, but at what cost?

Soon the blade meets your belly and screams are heard like a haunted ghost throughout the castle. The sound is not yours, but Helaena’s.

Your beloved sister is about to lose her best friend for the sake of a dynasty that was damned from the beginning.

Your mind goes blank, though. All you remember is the days spent in relatively peace, quiet and studying, always omitting Aemond’s sins and ensuring these never reached your mother’s knowledge.

As you gasp in pain, weeping silently as your murderer twists the dagger in you. Believing your body will be disappeared after your last breath, Aemond will not know a crime has occurred.

Is your sacrifice worth of this dusted and dysfunctional family you are part of? When thinking of the safety of your nephews and the love you received of Aemond, you believe so.

Then you comfortably slip out of your conscience.

***

For some reason, you are spared by the Gods. Aemond is there next to you, concern stamping his features. It softens though when you move your hand, surprised to find it holding his.

“Y/N! Y/Nickname!”, you see tears in his good eye when he reaches for you, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought I lost you. I…”

He could not say another word. Still shaken for finding yourself alive and well, you have nothing to say as he rocks you in his arms. Only then you look at him, confused.

“What happened? I thought…”, and then you remember the events of that evening and you start to panic. “Aemond! The children, where are…?”

“Shh, shh…”, says the prince, kissing your lips gently. “No need to stress yourself over this matter, love. All has been resolved and our nephews are well. You are well and y his is mostly important.”

You snuggle onto his arms, weeping silently. Aemond understands what you’ve gone through, having spent the last days in great distress. He could not fight a war knowing you are not well. He could not bear in mind a world where you are not part of it.

Later you’d know Aemond rescued you because of the strong bond you two share. When he was about to fly Vhagar, he felt an excruciating pain flinch over his body, a terror that tormented his reason. Quickly he understood this was about you, that you needed him.

By the time he arrived at the Great Tower of the Red Keep, you have been just under a terrible attack that nearly costed your wife. The attackers escaped but Aemond hunted them down—after ensuring you were under the best care of the best men of the realm—and personally ensured to execute such criminals.

As he did, Aemond knew who was the responsible for sending these two after his nephew and niece. The prince soon found his uncle Daemon’s whereabouts and a fight followed—to no avail, although Daemon was forced to seek exile.

The blacks are now momentarily defeated and now all of your family are present in Aemond’s privy bedchambers—to where you were taken—looking after you.

“My dear girl. How imprudent of you to behave the way you did”, Alicent is weeping since the moment she saw you are awake. “I frightened for you. I prayed for your soul. I… My sweet Y/N! I have no words for what you’ve done and the great pain you made me suffer! Do you care so little about your life?”

Before you could give her an answer, which includes an apology, another teary relative comes to your sight. The Queen Helaena rushes to your side before carefully holding you in her arms.

“I didn’t see it coming, please forgive me!”

“There’s nothing to forgive. What it matters is that they are well… aren’t they?”

“They are”, a male, embargoed voice joins the party. It’s Aegon’s. “Y/N, your loyalty has always been the most admirable trait of a sweet heart none but Helaena possesses genuinely. Thank you.”

It’s an emotional scene, a reward for a duty you’ve never expected to earn. Aemond is there by your left side, him too sharing your sentiments. It is clear by now that what one feels, so does the other.

But what a greater victory there is to rejoice now than the harmony of the Dowager Queen and her children?

You know it… because you’ve dreamt it.

***

• Epilogue.

Harrenhal Castle, many years later.

No more shadows nor sorrows since war came to an end. For once every enemy is defeated and the king reigns uncontestedly with his family by his side.

Politics here, politics there, a rival to your man’s love is nowhere to be seen. Some of the servants believe you possess the same wickedness there is in Lord Aemond’s heart, for since you and him were married, Alys Rivers has gone to dust. Where has she gone, the ambitious witch?

A name that doesn’t remain in anyone’s mind when your Valyrian beauty is seen inside and out of the Castle. You are a good landowner and you do your charity.

You earn the epithet of “the good lady wife of Aemond, the kinslayer”. But you do not mind it. Not when you rule your household… and him.

Whilst children are fast asleep, you are found in great intimacy with your lord husband. In nude state, you sit at the edge of your bed, subduing him at your will.

“Aemond!”, you throw your head back, going insane at the wonderfulness his tongue does inside your womanhood, dancing around your clit until he drinks all the liquid you provide him. “Oh, oh Aem…!”

You gently push his face to your core, arching your back as that familiar wave rises from your already levitating thighs… before crushing in your belly. And you almost scream, had he not placed a hand over your mouth.

Soon after, he doesn’t let you take a break and promptly slides inside you, making you whimper and squint in surprise.

“My lady is soaked!”, Aemond pushed you by your thighs, his tone so indecently hot that you squirm and drop back in bed. “Goodness me, woman!”

The prince groans loud, throbbing right into you, watching you with lust and desire as you are about to get undone again. Specially when he intercalates his deep thrusts with his fingers.

“Sing it to me”, he now inclines his body over yours, both of you soaked. Aemond wraps a hand around your neck, holding it the way you like him to all the whilst slapping your bum respectfully. He’s about to come undone himself. “Yes, wife!”

And to his surprise, you lock him with your legs and turn positions. Barely you begin to ride him, though, when both of you reach orgasm.

“This was so good!”, Aemond cries out before making out with you passionately.

He then helps you come to his side, and there your bodies remain interlocked.

“I think we conceived”, you muse mischievously.

Aemond is cuddling onto you, holding you tightly close. You don’t mind his sweat, so mixed to yours that smell as one. You love him intently so and he feels it.

“I don’t mind if we do”, he chuckles. “The more, the merrier.”

One exchange of glances is enough to express how one feels for the other. It makes you happy, it contents him likewise. No signs of war, no crimes to be slandered of. No more.

It’s all good. Perfectly good…

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond one eyed #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #Aemond smut #haim #taylor swift #no body no crime #evermore #the eras tour

[howlingday]

Jaune's Shampoo

King Taijitu

"DAMMIT, NORA!" Jaune opened his shower door. As he exited, he noticed his body had drastically changed. Using a mixture of his shampoo and experimental goo found at the fiendish Dr. Merlot's laboratory, Nora had unwittingly created a mutagen just to prank her team leader.

"Brrr! When did it get so cold?!" Jaune asked as his scales slid across the tiled floor. He glanced to his belly and noticed it, along with his hips, legs, and feet had been entirely replaced by a long snake tail. Or was this a snake's hips and legs? As he glanced at his obsidian scales, he noticed the question mattered less and less to him.

"Whatever." Jaune tossed on a shirt and picked up his pants. As he left the bathroom, he noticed the dorm was empty, save for one person. "Oh, hello."

Emerald stood around with a bored look on her face. That is, until she saw Jaune was now half-snake under his shirt. When she was assigned to keep an eye on Team JNPR by Cinder, this was not something she was expecting at all.

"Teammates, am I right?" Jaune sighed.

"Yeah," Emerald agreed, "but I don't think Merc ever thought of anything like this." She stepped aside as he slithered to his closet. Even by her standards, this was a bit too far for a prank.

"Anything I can help you with?" Jaune asked.

"Not really." She replied. "I was basically dragged in here by your pink friend." He scoffed and rolled his eyes as he set his pants inside. "So, uh, what exactly happened to you?"

"I have no idea," he answered, "I was just taking a shower and then this happened." His tail slapped the ground a bit. "I think she did something to my shampoo."

"Really?" Emerald asked, still standing awkwardly to the side.

"Oh, uh, would you like a seat?" Jaune scratched his cheeky with a goofy grin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel awkward."

"I mean, about as awkward as a ten foot snake-person can make somebody." Emerald took a seat on one of the beds. "So, shampoo swap, huh? Could be worse."

"Worse than shampoo turning me into a snake?" He shut the closet door.

"Yeah," she crossed her legs, "it could make you smell like trash, or worse."

"I guess." Jaune shrugged as he climbed onto his bed. His tail hung off the side as he reached for his comic books. "I don't even know what I smell like."

"You didn't smell your shampoo before using it?" She quirked a brow.

"Am I supposed to?" Judging by the look she gave, he was. "Oh." Then he had a dumb idea. "Uh, I know we don't know each other, but, uh, could you smell me?"

Emerald winced like he just asked her to move a body. She would, but he didn't need to know that. But she would have just been sitting around awkwardly otherwise, so she might as well help this kid out. Steeling her stomach, she got up and moved closer.

As she leaned in, there was strong aroma of amber, accented by the sweeter scents of berries. She gave a soft hum and leaned closer to get a better whiff. As she did, she noticed how glossy his black scales were. She could feel a warmth building in her chest.

"Um," Jaune said in a muffled voice, "I don't know if my hair smells good, but could I keep some personal space?" Emerald looked down and saw she he trapped him against her breast. She stepped away, a rising heat to her face. "Uh, thank you." His own face was flushed.

"No problem." Emerald coughed into her fist. What the hell was that? Just a few seconds ago, he was just some goofy guy Cinder told her to keep an eye on and was locked into a room by his teammate. Now she was pushing him against her tits while huffing his hair? What the hell was in that shampoo?! "Uh, sorry about that. I just... really liked the smell."

"Oh, uh... thanks?" Jaune shrugged awkwardly. He'd never been that close to a woman that wasn't his family, and especially not held in a way that made him feel that uncomfortable. A tinge of pink flushed over his cheeks. "So, uh-"

"Do you want to make out?"

The question came from so far out of left field, Jaune simply stared at her. She was beautiful, sure, but he also barely knew her. In times like these, Jaune had to ask himself, "What would Ren do?"

"I appreciate the offer," Jaune answered, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible, "but I think we should get to know each other more before jumping into this. Otherwise we might regret it." Perfect Ren.

"I'll pay you twenty lien for just one minute." Emerald said, producing the legal tender.

Ren is only human, and even then twenty lien is twenty lien.

"Yeah, that sounds-" Emerald tackled him, pressing her lips into his. As she clutched his face in her hands, her tongue prodded through and began a battle of passion against his. Jaune, high on the adrenaline of the sudden assault, instinctively wrapped his arms and, oddly enough, his tail around the mystery girl.

On his bed, Jaune and Emerald continued to make out, even as his team returned.

"Told ya it would work." Nora winked to Ren.

#rwby #Jaune's shampoo #jaune arc #emerald sustrai #topaz #nora valkyrie #lie ren

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 33

welcome to the thirty-third fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Rose-Colored Boy by melancholymango

“I missed you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Lance sighed, warm and giddy, clearly not absorbing how serious the words truly were. Keith nodded his head for a few seconds, not trusting himself to speak around the size of his emotions. He was suddenly brought back to the years alone on the whale, when all he’d had to keep him going was memories of his friends, of Lance.

“Yeah.” Keith said, more certainty in his voice now. He reached down, hesitantly threading his fingers through Lance’s and giving his hand a squeeze. Lance tensed next to him. “I still do.”

“I mean, I’m right here.”

“Are you? You still seem pretty far away.”

again i know im not really big on those fics that make the team out to be deliberately cruel, but sometimes its cathartic tbh. sometimes you remember canon and ur just like yeah what if he got angry. what if someone got angry for him. what then. and mango gives us that

2. Swamp of Sorrows by SwissArmyKnife

Pike gets exposed to acidic ooze, which leads Block (& Keith) to make a few discoveries about their party’s rogue.

“We can't leave them like this,” Meklavar said of Valayun and Pike, who’d been laid beside the fire. "Look at how bad those welts are." She came up with a bottle of oil and a cake of soap. "I can smell water nearby. We can get them washed and roll them in a blanket to sleep off the spore. What do you think?"

"I think it's our only choice," Takashi said.

monsters and mana fic!!!!! everybody say YES to righteous anger on pike’s behalf. and also say yes to pike bc i love him. this fic is interesting bc its a little tense and awkward bc this ragtag team of misfits doesnt quite trust each other yet but they also cant quite stop themselves from caring about each other. so even though they dont all agree on eveyrthing and dont agree about all, they do agree that pike needs more care than he got. also unrelated but the fact that shiro’s m&m name is fucking takashi kills me every time like man just wants to be himself 💀

3. Beneath the Champagne Sea by SwissArmyKnife

The paladins make a diplomatic visit to a planet with sexual dimorphism roughly opposite that of Earth. Women are larger and more powerful, while men are leaner and smaller. Cue their horror at gaunt, sickly Pidge and mild disgust with the ’womanly’ Shiro. Lance hits the sweet spot. He's got the build and features to draw the eyes and the charm to keep them. Their hosts are quite taken with him, in particular the daughter of the queen, whose forwardness is a comic reversal of Lance’s usual dynamic with women. Lance likes the attention and finds her intriguing, but eventually things take a discomforting turn.

Lance tried to step around her, wanting to walk away from a conversation that seemed less and less likely to end well, but Leh’n seized his wrist before he could. Her grip was tight, and freeing himself would require an act of aggression, which he still wanted to avoid. ‘Think of the mission, of how important it is to get the castle up and running again,’ he coached himself.

Still, that did nothing to stop his blood pressure from skyrocketing as Leh’n leaned closer and said. “I am not accustomed to reluctance.”

i swear to god that ive recced this before, but i couldnt find it in my records so here it is!! this fic is endlessly fascinating. the exploration of gender roles is super interesting, considering who is impacted in this fic and how. the discussion about beauty standards, power imbalances, the alien wrench in things was so cool! and i think lance, who is very much someone who rides that gender lines in terms of presentation of hobbies and even chracter traits, makes sense as the main character here. interesting think piece. 

4. you had me at merlot by @ryomakun

“Oh my God,” Lance says as he covers his face. Keith’s tinny voice blares from his laptop speakers: “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.” See, this joke might have been funny if someone charismatic and charming had said it, but Keith’s flat voice and even flatter expression effectively kidnaps, tortures, and then decapitates any chance of it being remotely humorous.

--

Keith accidentally starts a YouTube channel. Lance, of course, refuses to be left out. It goes about as well as you'd expect. (Ft. copious amounts of wine and a truly shameless number of references to MyDrunkKitchen, DailyGrace, and general pop culture)

this fic is HILARIOUS. its one of the firsts i ever screenshotted for the scrapbook i have of fics that made me laugh out loud. i offer you this one part that really made me giggle: 

““It tastes good,” Keith says petulantly as he glares at the accusing finger Hunk has pointed at him. “No offense Hunk but that stuff you gave me for my twenty-first tasted like feet and antiseptic.”

“That was a merlot,” Hunk wails. “The good kind, too!”

Ignoring them, Lance stands in front of the rum selection. This is why he didn’t want to bring anyone. They might call him loud and embarrassing, but at least he doesn’t yell inside WalMart about the virtues of a “real red wine.” An elderly couple passes through, eying the bickering three. Lance resolutely pretends he is here shopping by himself.“

the way they are so ridiculous that LANCE of all people is embarrassed of them...cinema. also this fic is peak bc it has klance as enemies to lovers and childhood friends to lovers at the same time. iconique

5. Flayed by @admiralcanthackett

Lance gets hit with a face full of spores and it leaves him wracked with pain. Touch is the only relief he can find.

yes i know i tag this author all the time but in my defense there was a point in my life where i was OBSESSED with faer fics. truly. anyways this one has unexpectedly protective keith, like to a very high degree, and im loving the heavy themes of trust and emotional as well as physical vulnerability 

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#pretty varied this week tbh!! #anyways #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #team as family #lance & hunk #established klance #enemies to lovers #fic rec #fic rec friday #langts #monsters & mana

[roosterbruiser]

Happy sleepover night!!! I’ve been thinking about being with ice the night before you guys get deployed to separate bases 🥲 (tumblr is being homophobic and won’t let me use my white/black ink so we’re gonna be fruity and use pink)

(Also my hand is much better today <3)

it isn't fair, really.

everyone knows--like, official paperwork documenting your relationship kind of knows--that you and Ice are together. have been for a little bit over three years now, comfortably fitting into each other's lives as Lieutenants in the United States Navy.

but because of your precise lack of legal commitment to each other, you're being separated. that's really what isn't fair about all of this--it's that you're being punished for not having a little piece of paper, a diamond ring.

you've been sitting on the back porch for a few hours now, perspiration dried on your skin from packing the last of the kitchen and the bedroom. at first, the two of you came out here to cool off, watch the sunset. but then you poured him a glass of whiskey and he uncorked a bottle of merlot and the two of you have sat here in the dusk for hours now.

the sun has been gone, dissipated entirely, for over an hour now. there is not moon tonight, but there are stars. the world feels dark out here, the wind rustling the leaves of the magnolia tree the two of you have loved so much in your time here.

Ice is sitting on the top step, his jaw set and his eyes serious as he gazes out over the backyard. you've only been in here for a few months, at this assigned house together, but this place feels like home to him.

you're sitting a few steps below him, leaning back to rest between his legs with your arms propped on his knees. his chin is tucked above your head, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your button-down.

you're looking at the little rose garden you planted in the corner of the yard, the one you worked hard at. whoever lives here next surely won't have the time or the decency to keep the flowers alive--so you feel guilty, like you're abandoning them to wither away.

Ice leans down, wordlessly kisses the crown of your head, burying his nose in your hair. god, he's gonna miss the smell of your shampoo. even the smell of your scalp.

"gonna plant another rose garden in Florida?" he asks.

you hum, blinking a few times, sinking into him further.

"no," you whisper. "not without you."

"I hardly helped," he utters softly, kissing the shell of your ear.

sinking into him, you just shake your head.

"they won't grow," you insist very softly.

he understands it, then.

neither of you speak for a long moment, just wrapped up in each other and this moment. this is one of the last times Ice is going to be able to hold you. he's going to soak it in, breathe in your scent, memorize the way your shirt feels beneath his fingers, until it becomes engrained in his memory.

he has to. he's not sure he'll survive if he doesn't.

"let's just get married," he tries, muffled from being nestled in your hair.

you've had this conversation already. when the two of you get married, you want to do it because you just can't stand it any longer--not because it makes it easier on the two of you.

"little late now," you sigh, letting your cheek fall against your shoulder as Ice kisses your throat. "unless you wanna hop down to City Hall in the morning."

it's a sad kind of laugh that the two of you release. you both know it isn't possible even a little bit--he leaves bright and early, packing up his Stingray and heading to the airport to catch a flight to D.C. you are set to leave not much later. besides, all your dresses are packed.

"I would," Ice tells you seriously. "if we could."

"me too," you whisper. "me too."

#my darling! #I'm so glad your hand is better!!! #and wtf Tumblr don't be homophobic #m answers #why am I attached to these two #they would name their first daughter Rosie #anyway #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #tom kazansky #iceman #iceman top gun #iceman smut #iceman val kilmer #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky fic #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky x y/n #tom iceman kazansky fanfic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x oc #iceman lives #top gun fanfic #swan wallace #top gun #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction

[theetherealbloom]

NO BODY, NO CRIME | TIM ROCKFORD

No Body, No Crime | Tim Rockford x Fem!Reader

Summary: You investigate a series of murders and the disappearance of your friend, Este. Suspecting Este's husband, Adam, you take matters into your own hands, orchestrating a scheme to frame him for the crimes as you hide the truth from your boyfriend-Detective Tim Rockford.

Paring: Det. Tim Rockford x Profiler Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Crime Stuff, Angst, FLUFF, Kissing, Established Relationship, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Blood, Character Deaths, Awkward, Plot Holes,

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is for @beskarandblasters drabble challenge! Thanks for letting me participate in the Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, I had so much fun writing this. I’ve never written for Tim Rockford before, so I hope I did him some justice. 

Song: no body, no crime by Taylor Swift (feat. HAIM)

Main Masterlist

WILLOW’S CREEK – EVENING

The faint drone of the TV news reporting a surge in local murders filled the room, but you quickly drowned it out, lowering the volume. Seated on your couch, legs tucked in, you and Este cradled glasses of wine. "You look like you’ve been losin' sleep," you observed, noting Este's tired eyes and lack of color in her complexion.

Este sighed heavily, her voice tinged with frustration. "My husband's actin' different, and it smells like infidelity," she confessed. "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth. That ain't my jewelry on our joint account. No, there ain't no doubt, I think I'm gonna call him out."

Concern furrowed your brow as Este voiced her suspicions. "I think he did it, but I just can't prove it," she added, her words heavy with uncertainty.

At the station, you found yourself immersed in a case alongside Detective Tim Rockford, the FBI had sent you, a profiler to collaborate with him to work on the case. Together, you were tackling the investigation into a chilling serial killer plaguing the area.

"All similar-looking... died the same way too," you remarked, studying the evidence on the board. Tim nodded grimly. "I reckon the unsub might strike again soon."

A shiver ran down your spine as you surveyed the photos of the victims, their hauntingly familiar faces unsettling you to your core.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" Tim's voice broke through your thoughts as he approached, wrapping an arm around your waist. Weary, you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his concern evident. "Is it about the case or somethin’ else?" he inquired softly.

Meeting his gaze, filled with understanding, you began, "Remember when Este came over last Tuesday?"

Tim nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. "Had your girl talk?"

You affirmed with a nod. "Este suspects that her husband is cheating on her."

Tim let out a low whistle. "Shit."

"Yeah," you agreed, worry etched in your features. “I might message her later, try and meet up with her at an Olive Garden next week on Tuesday or something.”

Tim nods, “I can drop you off.”

“You don’t have—” He cuts you off before you can finish, “I’ll drop you off, sweet girl. I know how stressed you get when you drive.”

You grumble with a small pout, “Some people shouldn’t have a license.”

He plants a kiss on your cheek before gently turning you to face him, his lips meeting yours in a tender embrace. "Let’s go home, darlin’, and we’ll tackle all of this in the mornin’," he murmurs softly.

Friday, 8:34 PM

You: Olive Garden next week, Tuesday?

Este: Sure, see you soon!

Tuesday, 7:38 PM

You: Hey, got us a table. Let me know if you’re on the way! <3

8:34 PM

You: Are you running a little late?

WILLOW’S CREEK – THURSDAY, MORNING

Este was nowhere to be found—neither at Olive Garden nor at her workplace.

You're on the phone, dialing Este's number for what feels like the hundredth time, only to be met with silence. Suddenly, Este's husband, Adam, strides into the station to report her disappearance to the sergeant.

Fury bubbles up inside you, and you're on the verge of lunging at him when Tim intervenes. His arms encircle your waist, guiding you away from Adam and into a nearby conference room. With a gentle touch, he pulls you close, kissing you until the world spins a little less wildly, calming your frayed nerves.

"He did it, Tim. I know it. All the murders, Este missing, it’s him. He did it," you whispered, your voice trembling, as Tim held you close, his arms a comforting shield.

"What do you mean?" Tim inquired, his brow furrowing in concern.

"All the women, they were surrogates for Adam to perfect his crime. To get rid of Este. And I noticed when I passed his house, his truck has got some brand new tires," you explained, determination shining in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

"Let’s get to diggin’ then, darlin’," Tim declared, pressing a reassuring kiss to your temple as you swallowed down your nerves. You knew facing Adam would be dangerous, but you were willing to risk it for justice.

"His mistress moved in, sleeps in Este's bed and everything. No, there ain't no doubt. We gotta catch him," Tim remarked grimly as you both surveyed the evidence board, the weight of the unsolved case heavy on your shoulders.

Weeks had passed, and still, you hadn't found a body.

"No body means there’s no crime," you murmured, your voice tinged with frustration. "We need reasonable cause to detain him, evidence to bring before a judge. Without a body, he can't be tried for murder."

"I think he did it, but I just can't prove it," you admitted quietly, your words echoing the frustration of your fruitless search.

Another week slipped by, and as Tim slept soundly beside you, you meticulously planned your next move. With wide eyes and clenched teeth, you gazed up at the ceiling, every detail of your scheme playing out in your mind.

Thank the stars your daddy insisted on that boating license when you were just fifteen. And all those years cleaning houses? They taught you exactly how to cover up a scene. Then there's Este's sister, willing to swear she spent the night with you for a girl's night. And let's not forget the icing on the cake—the mistress and her hefty life insurance policy.

With a smirk, you loaded the boat with the evidence of your carefully crafted plan. After all, taking out a life insurance policy shortly before someone's demise raises more than a few eyebrows. It's a motive so strong, it practically screams guilt. And that policy? It's as circumstantial as it gets, proof that the suspect knew the end was near.

THE STATE COURT

WILLOW’S CREEK – AFTERNOON

You sat beside Tim as the trial reached its climax. Despite the defense's best efforts, they couldn't shake the suspicion surrounding you. But proving it? That was a different story altogether.

As the jury delivered their verdict, condemning her to a lifetime behind bars, you stood outside the courthouse, watching the chaos unfold. Cameras flashed, reporters clamored for a statement, but you remained composed, a smug smirk playing at your lips. Tim stood steadfast by your side, his arm draped protectively around your waist, a silent testament to his unwavering loyalty.

Then she saw you, desperation flashing in her eyes as she lunged forward, restrained by the police. "You did this! It was you!" she screamed, her accusations falling on deaf ears.

Arms folded across your chest, you merely smirked as she was ushered into a patrol car. She may believe you're guilty, but without proof, her words were nothing but empty threats.

Tim pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, and you leaned into his embrace, knowing that together, you were untouchable.

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #tim rockford xfem!reader #tim rockford #taylor swift

[aliceindiamonds]

Motivation

Leon S Kennedy x Female Reader

Written because since I started playing the remake of RE4 I’ve had complete and utter brainrot. Why’d they have to make him so hot?! I’ve always been a Chris girl but shiiiiiiiit… I have literally never written smut before so feedback is super appreciated.

Set just after RE4. Leon is in an established but still fairly early days relationship with reader.

“Hey, are you still with me?” Leon asked, his smooth tenor breaking my reverie. His piercing blue eyes looked into mine, making me feel warm.

I looked up at him and scratched my chin, grounding myself back within the room. “Of course,” I mumbled, wiggling my mouse to bring my computer back to life. “I was just thinking.”

Across the room, he was pouring himself a Merlot into one of my grandmother’s old crystal glasses. “Thinking about..?” he prompted, running his tongue across his bottom teeth temptingly. I breathed deeply and watched as he took a long sip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“It’s nothing,” I replied with a shake of my head. We were now a week on from Leon’s return. He told me very little of where he’d been or what he’d been doing, but I knew it was something very important and very dangerous. I had noticed, as he emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist one morning, that he was adorned with brand new scars, red and angry amongst the pinker, lighter ones. Now, as he leaned elegantly against my oak counters, he looked tired but inexplicably handsome, as always. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling good, baby,” he answered, moving around the kitchen to where I sat at the island. “Just glad to be back.” His hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I could smell his aftershave: sandalwood and oud, and a sweet floral top note. Behind me, he looked at my computer screen with interest. “Still that essay?”

I groaned. “Don’t, I know.” This particular piece of work had been hanging over me since before he left for Spain. “I can’t bring myself to commit to it.”

“Would you like me to help motivate you?” He asked teasingly and pressed his lips to my cheek.

“I am unmotivatable,” I sighed, and I tilted my head as his lips kissed softly and slowly in a path towards my neck.

“I’m not sure, I think I might have a few ways…” His breath was hot against my skin, and his words went straight to my core.

Since his return, we hadn’t had any intimacy further than holding each other at night, in our pyjamas. Leon had only stayed two nights, and he was exhausted, and frankly seemed traumatised. When he had first arrived, I had bust out the full works- soft, blue lingerie I had bought specially, excited to feel him again- but he had looked at me with darkened, heavy eyes, and we had just gone to sleep. Then I had wanted to wait until it was on his terms.

“And what methods might you be suggesting, Mr Kennedy?” I breathed in anticipation. He set his glass of wine down on the counter before holding his hand out to me.

“I think you know.”

I took his strong, calloused hand and he all but pulled me to the bedroom. Closing the door behind us, he pushed me against the wall, leaning in to kiss me. His lips were soft, reddened by wine, and he tasted sweet. I moaned softly as he tangled one hand in my hair, the other massaging my bare shoulder gently. The feeling of his skin on mine sent heat coursing through my body, and I wanted him so badly. His hand slipped down, reaching for the bottom of my t-shirt, and I opened my eyes. “Hang on!” I burst out, and he looked at me in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” Leon asked, his blue eyes so sincere and gorgeous.

“Absolutely nothing,” I reassured him softly, caressing his face. “Just give me a minute, let me have a shower and change- I don’t feel very sexy-”

He raised an eyebrow. “But you look beautiful,” he protested, and I scoffed, stepping away from him. I pulled a face as I looked down at my leggings and faded tee. “You’re perfect, and I want you like this,” he murmured, pulling me backwards into him and pressing his sizeable erection into my rear. I melted instantly.

“Fine-” I grumbled, “-but only because I can’t resist.” He laughed good-naturedly, and the sound was music to my ears. “God, you’re gorgeous,” I said to the air, and he nibbled the tip of my ear as his hands crept under my t-shirt and found my bare chest- I never wore a bra around the house.

“No, you are,” he murmured, and his fingers cupped my breasts, pressing into the sensitive skin in a way that made me catch my breath. He ground into me from behind, and kissed my neck again, and I moaned, and he lost patience. “Take it off- you need to be naked right now.”

Hunger in his eyes, hunger that made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, he gripped the bottom of my t-shirt and whipped it over my head. Bare chested in front of him, I felt exposed, but he looked at me as though I were a painting. His fingers hooked into my underwear and leggings, pulling them off in one and leaving me naked. “Fuck…” he groaned, rubbing himself through his jeans.

Avoiding the feeling of flaming embarrassment that his unbridled want brought to my cheeks, I reached forward to relieve him of his fitted grey t-shirt, but he halted me. “Let me enjoy you, first,” he said, before leading me to the bed. “Lie back, baby,” he instructed, and I giggled as I did as I was told. “I thought about your cunt every day,” he said crassly, and my mouth fell open in surprise as he continued. “Came so fast thinking about it every time I-”

“Leon!” I gasped, interrupting his unabashed words.

“I know you like it when I talk like that, baby,” he chuckled, crawling on top of me fully clothed. His clothes felt harsh against my skin, in an exciting, striking way. “You’re filthy really.”

I laughed; he was a little bit right. His words clouded my head and made my core ache with need. Smiling, he peppered the top of my chest with kisses before running his tongue slowly down the valley between my breasts. I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut in want as his fingers danced from my calves to my upper thighs, tickling and grazing painstakingly.

Decisively, he grasped my breast and encapsulated one of my nipples within his warm, wet mouth, and I cried out his name in frustration, squeezing my legs together for any trace of friction where my cunt throbbed. With a lewd pop, he released my nipple and looked into my eyes teasingly, cruelly, “You want something, baby?”

“You’re driving me crazy,” I hissed, and he laughed again, throwing his head back. “Please, touch me,” I begged.

“Touch you where?”

“Leon,” I groaned, as he enjoyed his torture.

“Okay, alright,” he murmured, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” His strong hands grasped my thighs and pushed my legs apart, and I whimpered. I could have died of shame as my pussy leaked wetness onto the sheets. “Oh, you’re soaked, baby girl,” he growled, teasing my wet entrance, where my skin and dark hair glistened. “Can’t wait to fuck you stupid…”

His finger slipped inside of me easily, and he explored slowly and agonisingly. I put my fist in my mouth to stop myself from screaming, wanting more desperately. A second finger joined the first, and he penetrated me deeply before toying lazily with my clit, making me feel like I was falling apart. The feeling of explosion built inside me, little by little, at his leisure, and I wanted to cry as he sped up his ministrations. I began to thrust involuntarily against his hand, and he pulled out with a tut. “Not so fast.”

“Leon,” I moaned at the loss of him, and felt my stomach twist in desperation as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, tasting me. “Fucking hell…” I breathed, watching his tongue swirl and his lids close. His blonde hair was falling into his eyes, and he looked like sin.

Opening his eyes, he smiled like the devil, and then started to unbutton his shirt. Shy, I closed my legs, but he pushed them apart again. “Let me look at you, pretty girl,” he coaxed, and I whined in response. As his shirt fell from his shoulders, his chest and arms seemed broader and stronger than ever, and the muscles in his upper arms rippled. I exhaled, watching him like I’d watch an artist create their magnum opus.

“It’s not fair that you get to look like that,” I shook my head, feeling small.

Standing, he undid the top button on his jeans and unzipped, sliding them down his legs with his boxers. His cock sprang forth, dripping with precum, and my mouth fell open. “I’m all yours, baby,” he said, climbing on top of me.

Slow, sultry, he kissed me again, and I tasted myself on his pink lips. Moaning, I reached for his hard member, but he took my hands and pinned them above my head with one of his. “Ah, ah, ah- it’s me taking care of you today.”

“I want you,” I managed, his weight delicious on top of me.

His knees on the mattress, he found my cunt with his cock and lined himself up, making me bite my lip in anticipation. I wanted desperately to touch him, to run my fingers across his chest, but he kept my arms firmly restrained. “Can you keep your hands to yourself like a good girl?” He asked, a brazen grin on his face, and I nodded.

One hand gripping my waist, and my breast in the other, Leon slid inside me in one swift motion. Gasping, I spread my legs wider, accepting his throbbing length, and he panted obscenely, acclimatising to my tightness. “Fuck, fuck..” he chanted like a mantra as he adjusted, going still. “Are you ready?”

“Please, I want it so badly,” I implored him, and closing his heavily lidded eyes he gave me what I needed. Fucking me slowly into the mattress, he leaned over and kissed me, his tongue wet and hot in my mouth, making noises that made me keen.

Methodically, he built his pace, letting me get used to the size of him, until he weakened, “I’ve got to speed up, baby,” he groaned, lifting one of my legs up so that it rested on his shoulder, forcing him somehow deeper inside, making me moan.

And then he fucked me hard. His pace was cruel and relentless, and I cried out at the way he hammered my cunt, hitting me so deeply that it hurt so good. “Oh, oh, oh, Leon!” I sobbed, still pushing myself against him harder, relishing in his unfaltering rhythm. Breathing doggedly, he found my clit with his fingers, playing me like a violin. His chest glistened with sweat, rolling down his godlike, carved abs, and I was in ecstasy, building, building, “Leon, fuck, I’m, I’m so close-” his fingers brought me to a burning climax, and my cunt squeezed him, throbbing, gushing wetness.

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes-” He pounded me incredibly fast, losing any sense of rhythm, riding my orgasm into his own, and I felt him explode inside of me, coating my insides with his hot cum.

We both breathed in tandem, heavy and fast, and he looked at me intensely, enjoying the feeling of his high ebbing away into calm. “Fuck, I love you,” he panted, kissing the ankle that rested on his shoulder sweetly.

“I love you too,” I answered, smiling up at him, feeling sobered as my mind returned to some semblance of normality, from the streaks of red and gold and silver that had blurred my vision as he took me. “Can I touch you now, Mr Kennedy?”

“Please do,” he grinned, lowering my leg and pulling out of me, before coming to lie at my side. I lifted my arm and he snuggled up to me, resting his head on my breast. For a minute or two, he didn’t speak, and we were blissful and quiet. When he next spoke, there was a softness in his tone. “Hey, baby…”

”Yes, Leon?” I murmured, running my fingers up and down his arm.

”I just wanted to say, about when I got home, I’m sorry about not being up for, you know,” he apologised gently, and I shook my head.

”No apology needed-” I started.

”No, let me finish. I had a rough time with… work,” there was a tense pause in his words, and I waited for him to continue. “I didn’t feel myself-” his voice shook, and I fought the urge to swaddle him in my arms. “Look, I- I still kind of don’t. But I’m starting to feel safe again. You’re making me feel safe again.”

I nodded slowly. Although I didn’t know what he had been through, I could see that it had left him scarred more deeply than physically. My heart swelled at his words, and I felt privileged. “Thank you, for telling me that, Leon,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his head.

”Well, I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you. Especially when you were in that little blue number, all ready for me…”

Laughing, I said, “I’m sure it can make another appearance.”

I tangled my fingers in his sweaty, dark blonde hair, and we breathed slowly, enjoying each other’s closeness, and in the other room, my essay remained entirely unfinished.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #not my gif #stdismas #vanilla #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #come on ​he’s a one lady type of guy

[thegirloffans]

My WF Heavy/Lightweight HC's

Alright, I have Wakanda Forever brain rot especially with my concept of my new Found Family Hyperfixation and the Wakandans wanting to show the Talokan Trio the ways of surface dwellers.

This is my idea of them under the influence 🙂

Riri❤️: Starting off, I know in the movie Riri is 19 but come on you guys, we all had a drink or two in college bffr..., the point is to not get caught.... That being said, M'Baku, Okoye, and Nakia would most definitely be on little girl duty and watch Riri like a hawk to make sure she's not drinking behind their backs. (of course she is, and Shuri and Aneka are the ones slipping her a shot or two here and there 🤭she appreciates their bravery and sacrifice). She would get herself into trouble by masking her intoxication as best as she can, but her dead giveaway would be the goofy grin on her face and her never-ending chatter. She would just talktalktalktalktalktalktalktalkTALK and then Okoye would pull her to herself and smell the liquor on her breath, leading to her AND Shuri being cut off for the night...

Shuri🐈‍⬛: I can see her not really liking drinking because she always likes to be focused and aware. Even when she's hanging out with friends, she doesn't necessarily need a drink to have a good time but bc everyone else is having a glass or two, she doesn't see the harm in it. WRONG. Princess Shuri of Wakanda is a lightweight to the fullest. Give her a White Claw or two and she'll be out like a light. She would definitely be a flirty drunk, like we all already know she has a sense of superiority and pride, so her being under the influence would definitely bring out her cocky side, and she would shock everyone at how she equally goes after both men and women. and the kicker is that she would only do like little playful flirtatious teasing with her friends, and they all know not to take her seriously, but she seems to do it with everyone BUT Namor. He's sick about it lol it really hurts his feelings...

Okoye👩🏾‍🦲: Again, not really a drinker but due to experience and life in general, Okoye is actually quite the heavyweight. She prefers a nice sparkling wine or maybe a merlot, or red wine bc it definitely mellows her out. She can be sedated on about 3-4 glasses but when she's had a rough day, that woman can take an entire bottle to the head and still be asking for more. Now when going out, especially with Aneka, Okoye doesn't really have much of a choice but to take a few shots to get the party going (and to keep up with her energetic friend). Wine never really has the effect on her like straight liquor does, but when she's well inebriated, the woman is a TALKER. She's the kind of drunk where if you were ever wondering what she really thought about you, give her a few shots and she'll tell you. That's why she never messes with the stuff! She gets all sentimental and emotional, telling her closest friends just how much they mean to her in a way that makes her subconscious self squirm! And Bast forbid Attuma is around bc then things start to get interesting...

Nakia💚: She's actually quite in the middle! Depending on the alcohol content and ingredients is a huge factor on when the spy chooses to cut herself off. She's had tastings of different mixtures from all around the world and sometimes can be alright from a single cup or will find herself pouring up all night long. How she knows that she's proper drunk is when she starts to slur her words and stumble. It takes a while for it to travel through her body so Nakia always finds herself having her drunkenness sneak up on her. And when it hits, it HITS. She finds it hard to keep her body upright and when she tries to speak, it sounds like alphabet soup to her ears, so she mainly just stays quiet and only reacts with facial expressions or laughter. Usually, M'Baku or Okoye are the ones to carry her back home 😅

Ayo😶: Ah yes, the quiet one out of the group. Well give this lady a few drinks and watch that cold exterior melt away! Just like Nakia, she has a pretty average tolerance, only needing about a good number of drinks, whatever they may be, to get her wasted. She still remains pretty quiet when she's drunk, but everyone will start to notice that when she is, she gets really touchy. Aneka notices as soon as she feels her wife's body pressed against her backside, warm hands sliding around her stomach to hold her close. Ayo is all strict and expressionless, but when she's drunk, it seems like her entire being has been cracked open and is exposed for Aneka and Aneka only to see. She never has eyes for anyone but her beloved as she hangs herself over her lover the entire night, never taking her hands off of her.

Aneka😁: Quite the opposite of her wife in every aspect, Aneka is the Leader of The Lightweights. She's a delusional one too, because if it wasn't for her wife or Okoye, she would drink herself into a coma. She thinks she's a heavyweight but gets a heated blush across her brown skin after just 2 shots. Get her started off the Henny and this woman becomes a personified Energizer Bunny; dancing, talking, socializing with just about everyone in the club, eating everything in sight, taking more shots- she's just the grind that won't stop! She knows it's time to wind down when she feels her wife's hands on her more than usual, leaning into the woman's touch and letting her lover's presence calm her down. A few touches and kisses later and they're definitely the couple who leaves early to go fuck.✌🏾

Namora🧡: Oh man...first of all, in Talokan, Namora is considered a heavyweight. She can even outdrink Ku'Kul'Kan which is a fact that burns the older man up... but surface world liquor puts her on her ASS. The first time they went out with the Wakandans, they shared some kind of alcohol containing "sugar cane" as they called it and Namora was expecting it to taste sweet, but not only did it not, but it seemed to have no flavor at all. The next thing she knew, she was singing pop songs at the TOP of her lungs, hanging out the window of Riri's very red and loud vehicle as they sat in the parking lot together. She laughed along with the young girl and enjoyed the feeling of fuzzy emptiness in her mind. All she was focused on was having a good time and concentrating on not throwing up in her new friend's pretty car...

Namor🐉: The Feathered Serpent God of Talokan...can't hold his liquor for shit lol. Not in Talokan and definitely not on the surface. He actually doesn't even like the taste of alcohol; it burns going down and always leaves him with a nasty hangover the next day, so he usually stays away from the stuff. But of course...not being one to show weakness (and also trying to impress the Princess) he takes each shot or drink handed to him to the head. He's actually good at masking his inebriation, his only dead giveaway being the rosy red tips of his ears and wide blush across his cheeks. It's also super cute to everyone how he will just get fed up with fumbling around walking and start to hover around instead. He's also an honorary member of the Chaos Clan along with Aneka, Riri, M'Baku, and Attuma so more than likely if everyone starts drinking and hears something break, you will see those little winged feet getting tf out of there.

Attuma🦈: If anybody's the heavyweight champion of the group, it's good ol' Sharkboy himself. He's the same as Namora in Talokan, being deemed a very heavy drinker, but where they differ is that he can also hold his own against surface world concoctions. Liquor, wine, spirits, seltzers- it almost seems like you have to drown this man in a tub of alcohol before he starts feeling the effects. Literally the only person out of the group that can rival him, is M'Baku and they have many drinking contests between themselves to see who is the one and only true Heavyweight Drinking Champion of them all. They always end up tied up 🙂Now even if Attuma does find himself pretty under the influence, he is definitely a flirt just like Shuri. He's actually almost gotten close to getting the shit beat out of him because the Princess would come up to him and start playfully flirting with the man and he would simply match her energy! But one look from his God King from across the room has him deterring the Princesses' teasing (that TikTok sound: "let me stop playing around before I get my ass delt with" 💀) but that only makes her call over Okoye, the Talokanilian warrior growing rigid as his crush glides her way over to him...

M'Baku🦍: This man is definitely one to hold his liquor down, okay? He can keep going all night long (👀...) and almost seems to have no stopping point. We've all seen how this man acts on a regular day, just know that when he starts drinking, that boisterous, prideful, enthusiasm gets cranked up to 100. Just like Aneka, he is a force that can't be stopped, dancing with all the pretty ladies on the dance floor and letting them marvel and gush at his outstanding display of raw masculinity. I don't care what anybody says, I know for a fact this man is leaving the club with at least two beautiful women on each arm by the end of the night.

Ross🕶️: You know we gotta include our token white boy! This man worked for the CIA, I think by now he would work up quite a tolerance for alcohol (especially after being married to that witch...). It actually surprises the group that after watching their tiny friend down drink after drink, he's still standing! The girls would be cheering him on to keep going and take as many shots as he can and not wanting to be the one to disappoint, he keeps throwing back shots like it's nothing. Now out of everybody in their group, no one has the cutest drunk blush like Ross. He's white lol so of course his entire face all the way down to his neck is flushed. He definitely seems like a silly drunk to me, cracking jokes and telling stories to everyone and even though he tries to keep the Chaos Clan from doing any further damage, someway somehow he finds himself in the midst of their misdeeds lol.

So those are my headcannons of my WF Friend Group when they're loaded!

Thanks!✌🏾🙂

#wakanda forver #princess shuri #mcu shuri #Namor #kukulkán #attuma of talokan #namora #m'baku #riri williams #nakia #everett ross #shuri #okoye #general okoye #ayo #general ayo #aneka #okoye x attuma #attoye #nashuri #namor x shuri #namora x riri #ayo x aneka #it would be so chaotic #but so much fun omg #i can just see everyone being drunk asl going home #and absolutely raiding the royal palace kitchen #like destroying everything in sight #and then waking up the next morning with monster hangovers #the talokan trio would NEVER do this again lol

[keanureevesisbae]

Hank Voight x fem!reader 

Summary: Hank Voight is a loyal customer at the liquor store you work at, but one day he asks for something very unusual: wine.

Wordcount: 811

Warnings: None

He introduced himself to you as Hank Voight. You and your colleagues on the other hand called him RV, which was an acronym for Raspy Voice. 

Yeah, very original, it made you cringe as well, but referring to him as A Very Hot Daddy Material Looking Man Who You Bet Would Look Very Hot Naked (or the shorter version: AVHDMLMWYBWLVHN) just didn’t go well. 

RV was convenient and easy to say.

Hank Voight was fairly predictable when it came to his choices. He always bought either a scotch or a whiskey and sometimes he’d settle for a nice bourbon. Once you sold him a cognac, though he wasn’t too much of a fan of that.

However, you appreciated his efforts of branching out.

Because of these course of events, Hank Voight a.k.a. RV could also be nicknamed as Mister Predictable. So you were awfully surprised when a stunning request left his lips.

‘Wine?’ you ask, visibly in shock. ‘You want a bottle of wine?’

‘Yes,’ he says, his voice so low and deep, you almost felt the vibrations of it in your chest. 

Great, this is either for the woman he is in a serious and doting relationship with of for a date of his.

You had been dreaming a little bit about Hank Voight, but all of your colleagues did. They swoon over his voice and while that attributed to his attractiveness, you felt yourself falling for his intense gaze, the way he looked at your fingers as you packed the bottle for him. The way he helped you when you needed to grab something of the top shelf and how he smelled like cologne, but not the same type everyone was already wearing. 

You fell for the little inside jokes you shared and the pretty flirtatious comments exchanged between the two of you. You were the one who helped him out most of the times and he always trusted your expertise. 

And now you were going to find a wine for a probable other woman. Someone who isn’t yours.

‘What type of wine?’ you ask. 

He shrugs. ‘I have no idea.’

That is truly not helping, but you decided to settle for an easier question. ‘Okay, red or white?’

He shrugs again.

This wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Want something like Pinot, Chardonnay, Merlot or Port?’

Another shrug. 

You glare at him. ‘Hank, this isn’t helping,’ you say. ‘How am I supposed to help you out if you don’t even have the slightest clue of what you want?’

‘It’s hard,’ he says, ‘shopping for a wine for someone else. What’s your favorite?’

‘Why do you wanna know?’

‘Well, I bet you have a favorite and I always trust your taste. If you like it, she’ll like it, I just know it.’

She. The dreaded mystery person is unveiled. There were two things you could do: recommend the most disgusting wine ever, so this mystery woman will puke and vomit, therefore not be to fond of the giver of said wine that made her sick or you’d recommend your favorite and there was a chance she’d love it and therefore love him.

You hate the fact you were polite. 

You want nothing but the best for Hank, so you decide to just get over yourself and recommend him your favorite wine. As you explain to him the type of red wine, together with what you should eat with it, he listens intently.

You gift wrap it for him and hand it to him. ‘You got a card?’ he asks. ‘And a pen?’You give it to him and he starts to write. 

Lucky lady who’ll be on the receiving end of it. He’s truly pouring his heart out, by the amounts of sentences you see. You decide to look away, not wanting to become too nosy.

He hands you back the pen and the card. ‘Here,’ he says.

You blink. ‘What?’

‘Read it.’

With a deep frown you take the card. You had to proofread too? Geez, this lady better be worth it. Your eyes scan the handwriting.

Dear Y/N,

Every time I come here, I’m hoping you’re behind the counter. You have the patience of a saint, with the way you try to venture out my tastes when it comes to alcohol. You always make my day, no matter how lousy it was, so much better. 

I hope you enjoy this gift and maybe would go out with me.

Yours,

Hank

Thank the heavens for you being polite. Imagine being on the receiving end of disgusting wine, having Hank believe that is your favorite and then having to either lie forever or to come clean and have him discover you wanted to jeopardize a non existent date with someone else.

‘Really?’ you ask him, a bright smile on your face. ‘Is this for real?’

He nods. ‘This is for real.’

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ 🍷

Chicago PD taglist: @acdassenza // @wanniiieeee // @one-sweet-gubler

#chicago pd #chicago pd drabble #chicago pd fanfiction #hank voight #hank voight x female reader #hank voight x reader #hank voight drabble

[running2reanimation]

Birthdays

Happy Birthday, King!

King woke to the smell of something burnt. Not the best way to start a birthday, but still definitely not the worst way he'd ever started it. But that was almost another lifetime ago, or at least it felt like it.

He slid out of bed, making sure his feet thumped audibly against the floor and immediately heard, "NO! DON'T GET OUT OF BED YET! STAY PUT!"

King rolled his eyes and tucked his feet back under the covers. He settled back in bed, listening to his son scrambling in the kitchen for a few more minutes before finally appearing at his bedroom door, breakfast tray in hand and a bright smile on his face, "Happy Birthday, Dad!"

"Thank you, Gold," King looked down at the tray that had been set upon his lap. There was toast and two hard-boiled eggs, "So, what did you burn, and how bad was it?"

"Uh... the pancakes, but-but-but it's already cleaned up, which is good because we've got a big day ahead of us! After you finish breakfast we're gonna go to the park and fly a kite-"

"Aren't you a little old for that?" King asked between mouthfuls of egg.

Gold just shrugged, "Maybe, but I know you like to fly kites and it's your birthday. Moving on! After we get bored of that we're gonna take the train to the city, stop at Merlot & Lime's for lunch-"

"And where are you getting the money for that?"

"Don't you worry about that, I promise it's legal, that's all that matters. Anyway, after lunch, we're going to go to that used bookstore you like and you can pick out a book or two, then we're gonna check out the space exhibit at the museum and then supper at Coal's, then it's back home for cake - courtesy of Aqua, by the way - and presents. Sounds good right?"

"Sounds great, Gold, I'm impressed you planned this all yourself."

"Well, some of your planning skills had to rub off eventually," Gold grinned, collecting the dirty dishes, "Now, I'm going to wash these while you shower and get dressed and then we'll be off!"

And with that Gold practically skipped out of the room.

How did he get so lucky?

----

He hadn't even realized it was his birthday until he looked at the date on his phone after taking that call with Sky.

... It didn't really matter, the day was almost over.

Maybe he'd heat up one of the microwave dinners that had a dessert to celebrate. Gold... wouldn't like the idea that he'd done nothing special.

----

"Good morning, Baba!" King jerked awake at Purple's cheery voice, honestly grateful for the wake-up-call, "Happy Birthday!"

King blinked at him in confusion, "...How do you know when my birthday is? I don't think I ever told you?"

"Oh, I have my ways..." Purple smirked, coming in with a tray to place upon King's lap, a fruit, yogurt, and granola parfait and two blueberry pancakes with honey.

"After you're done eating, you need to get washed up and dressed up nice, we're heading to the city for lunch and a matinee concert, and then back here for a party later."

"A party?" King tried to keep the trepidation out of his voice, but he was sure Purple picked up on it based on the reassuring smile.

"It's just the Colour Crew, don't worry. Oh, and Aqua! She made the cake, said she knew what you liked and not to worry about it," Purple patted the big stick's knee, taking the dirty dishes, "Now, I'm going to wash these while you shower and get dressed and then we'll be off!"

And with that Purple trotted out of the room, clearly quite pleased with himself.

How did he get so lucky?

#ava #avm #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #alan becker #avm king #avm mt #avm mango #avm king orange #avm purple #avm gold #king #gold #purple #didn't i just do this same idea for mornings #yes #but i like this style #might even do it again