#john green come back we miss you

[the-californicationist]

he gives great gifts

Price/Reader - TW: remote vibrator, minor female ejaculation

“Hey, love, I’m home,” Price’s voice called out to you, summoning you to the front door. 

He was carrying all of your packages and mail, along with his rucksack, home for the weekend. You took the mail, helping him leave the worries of the day at the door to join you in the kitchen. You were making his favorite, chicken spaghetti, and you just started the oven. 

Your captain sat at the island counter, opening up the mail and sorting out the bills. He kissed you as you walked past him, his mustache tickling your lip and cheek

“Mm,” he moaned, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you smiled, flirting with him, “Missed you, though. How was yours? Any news from Laswell?”

“No, not yet. Still waiting on the intel. Oh, hey, it came!” He lit up, tearing into a small package with his knife.

“What’s that?” You asked over your shoulder, bending to put the chicken in the oven. 

“Bought you an early birthday present. Come see,” he was holding a black box, lifting the lid to reveal the prize inside. 

“John, I thought we said no gifts? What did you… oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” he smiled like he had just won a medal, prideful and obviously chuffed, “...and it has a remote.”

You were staring at a lime green, silicone dildo. It was shaped like a curved smile, one large end for insertion and the other smaller end to be nestled on top of your clit. 

“A remote?” You asked, taking out the toy and feeling its smoothness in your hands. It was lightweight, but very solid. It seemed expensive, well-crafted, and like John had spent way too much money on you, as usual.

It buzzed in your hands, coming alive with a low rumble. It shocked you, and you almost dropped it.

“Oh, my God!” You laughed, “What was that?”

He held up a matching lime green remote. It was small, like a car fob, and it had a few different buttons to choose from. Price’s face was full of mischief,

“Put it in, love.”

“I’m making dinner,” you protested, but you didn’t put it down. 

“So?” He whispered darkly, dragging your hips toward him, kissing you deeply, licking your mouth and leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

You giggled, smiling sweetly. He made it so easy to give in to him. You sighed,

“Okay, okay. Help me put it in, honey.”

Price put the remote down and slid your pants down to your thighs, pulling your panties down with them. He took the toy from you and opened the little packet of lube that came in the pouch, coating the thick end. He hesitated, slipping his own finger into you first, finding you a little too wet and already turned on. 

He made a face, full of delighted surprise, teasing you,

“Someone’s excited, hm?”

Impatient, he slid the toy into you gently, fitting it at your entrance and pressing it up into you. He pulled it back out again and used it to fuck you for a few strokes, making you moan quietly, leaning forward to steady yourself on his huge forearm. 

“Mm,” he groaned, “You like that, love?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

He settled it all the way in and made sure the front was in the right place before replacing your panties and your leggings back up around your waist. You kissed him again, and went back into the kitchen to finish up with dinner. 

The excitement of knowing he could control your pleasure was building inside of you. You didn’t see the remote on the countertop, and he was busy recycling the boxes, so you thought you were safe. You leaned down again to check the chicken, and then you almost came out of your skin as the toy came alive inside of you. 

Price was unbothered, pouring a few fingers of whisky into his glass, innocently. He saw you looking at him and smiled knowingly, taking a long swig of the amber liquid into his mouth. You glared, but you needed to put the pasta on to boil. So, you turned back around to grab a pot. 

Inside of you, the toy buzzed, low and rumbling, shaking your clit and rattling against your g-spot in tandem, freezing you in place, riding out the waves of sensation. You struggled to bring yourself back to your task, but you wanted to play along, so you brought the pot over to the sink, panting, trying to work through the blinding pleasure, filling the pot with warm water. You had a few seconds to wait for it to reach the top, so you closed your eyes, reveling in the vibrations. 

You let out a moan, eyes still wrenched shut, hands on either side of the sink. 

“Um, love?” Price interrupted your lust, pointing to the pot which was now overflowing.

“Oh, shit,” you turned off the tap, and managed to pour out some of the water without too much trouble.

However, as you turned to walk it back over to the stove, he turned up the intensity. There was now some sort of… rotation… happening inside of you. It honestly felt like you were being fucked, like a cock was thrusting up into you, punishing your core. You stopped in your tracks, gripping the heavy pot for dear life, moaning in full volume. 

“John!”

Everything stopped. You gasped, your eyes flitting to him immediately. The captain was grinning from ear to ear, drinking his whisky and enjoying the show. He chuckled,

“What is it? You alright?” 

You laughed in short, panting breaths, rolled your eyes at him, and put the pot down to open the pantry for the spaghetti. When you reached for the door handle, the sensations were back, sending bolts of pleasure through your pussy, making your panties damp as you gushed out around the unrelenting dildo. You grabbed the handle tighter, steadying yourself against the frame of the door, resting your body against it, keening like a paid whore. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, inches away from coming, it stopped again. 

“John Price,” you turned toward him, eyes wild, “You did not just - ”

“I’m starving,” he said casually, not even looking in your direction, pretending to scroll through his phone, “Think you’ll have dinner ready soon, love?”

You groaned, opening the door and reaching for the pasta boxes, waiting for him to click the button again. 

There was nothing. 

You waited in the pantry a little longer, baiting him.

Nothing. Not even a little jiggle. 

You barged out of the pantry, and as soon as he saw you, you were sent to your knees. He’d turned whatever setting it was all the way up. You dropped the pasta boxes, crawling on the floor of the kitchen like an animal, screaming out lurid cries and feeling your thighs tremble from the onslaught. 

“Did you think I would let you hide in there where I couldn’t see you?” His question was delivered with cold cruelty. He had left his seat and was now standing over you, remote in hand, watching you suffer at his feet. You begged for mercy,

“Baby, please, God… I need… oh, fuck!”

“Pick up the pasta. Now,” He commanded you, his voice loud and oppressive.

“John, please,” you clutched at the leg of his jeans, feeling like you were coming in waves and waves and waves. 

He reached down with his empty hand and grabbed you by the hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to look up at him, 

“I said: Pick. Up. The. Pasta.”

“Okay, okay…” You were trying to breathe. You let go of his pant leg and reached for the boxes, feeling your pussy clench around the toy as it fucked the life out of you. 

Your hands were shaking. The dry spaghetti made the sound of cheap maracas, clattering out of the box and splashing in the boiling water. You tried to open the second box, and you couldn’t. Your hands weren’t following your commands.

Price’s eyes bore into you as he stood next to you, watching you come apart under his control. Very casually, he took the box from you, opened it, and handed it back to you. He was breathing hard, as if he, too, was being subjected to the same sensations. 

Unable to stop yourself, you looked down at his cock. It was pressing against his pants, making a perfect outline of itself, hard as a stone. He caught you looking and palmed himself over the top of the fabric, squeezing the head to relieve some of the tension. 

You were practically drooling for him. But, you went back to the meal, putting the other box of pasta in as gently as you could. The way that this toy was fucking you almost reminded you of having John’s fingers in you while he sucked on your clit. The vibrations and steady rocking movements brought you to completion in a way where you couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the other began. 

As you turned your back to face Price, he moved toward you, pulling you away from the stove and shoving you up against the countertop. He snaked his hand between your legs and pushed up on the toy, forcing it to fuck you deeper than normally possible, shoving it in you mercilessly. 

“John, I’m going to come, please!”

You came, but it was unique. You felt like you were wetting yourself, coming so hard that fluid was squirting out of you, soaking your panties and leggings, along with John’s invasive hand. 

“Mm, fuck,” he growled in your ear, “Did you just squirt for me? Bloody fucking hell.”

“I don’t…” you couldn’t form coherent thoughts, “I dunno. John, help me, please…”

“Sweet girl, do you need this cock?” he pulled your bottoms down, trapping your knees with them, and held you up by your waist. He turned off the vibrator and tugged it out of you gently. You were so slick that it slid out of you without much resistance. Your pussy was throbbing, flooded with come, and desperate for a familiar sort of relief. 

“Yes, please, God,” you begged, tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright, love,” he let you feel his hot head at your pulsating entrance, ready to sink into you, “It’s alright, I'm here now.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut #john price x reader #captain price smut

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology - previous

You haven’t been inside a bar this crowded since you graduated from university. 

You settle in the corner, avoiding nearly everyone’s eyes, hands cupped around a chipped glass full to the brim with beer. 

You weren’t expecting an island on the brink of a full winter assault to be so… lively.

The room is a party. A party full of people who know one another well enough to call them by first name. There can’t be more than one hundred people living in this town year-round, and you think they might all be inside this dimly light pub, crowded around the waxed cedar bar, laughing and smiling with like they’ve not seen each other in eons. Like they’re long lost, disjointed members of the same family.

Well, all most all of them. 

You don’t see the Ranger. The Caribbean blue eyes, brusque moustache and beard, low brim black beanie, all are missing.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you. 

He didn’t seem the socializing type.

Still…

You hadn’t expected such a… clipped welcome. 

And you surely hadn’t expected your ferry buddy, the spunky six-year-old girl who talked to you for most of the ride, to be his daughter.

Somehow, that made his cold, distant nature even worse. 

Here’s a man capable of warmth; his smile said, when he scooped his daughter into his arms. Here’s someone you can trust. Someone who is friendly, genuine.

Just not towards you. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and even though the drive to town was fairly short, he barely spoke to you, answering your questions with the shortest syllables possible. 

He was every bit the Ranger you had heard so little about. Every bit the man turned myth.

And handsome. Rugged.

Older.

Your new friend in the backseat was better company than the man you’d be working with for better part of a year, the Ranger who you’re afraid you can’t do it without. Can’t navigate the island or the tides without him, can’t do half the work you needed to do without a partner. The thing his role is supposed to be, when needed. 

Worse was, the provided housing is a duplex, and he’s on the other side, a fact he gritted through his teeth this afternoon when he dropped you off, gesturing to the right side of the house with a callous wave. His front door was as green as the forest. 

The other was black. 

Your boss did warn you. 

She was tactful, cautious. The island itself carries a reputation; one some may be intimated by, but not you. 

Who are you to fear stewards of the land? They are more akin to you than others, after all.

John though, she lamented with a mournful expression, John was different. 

“John is less than pleased about this placement but assures me it won’t be an issue.”

“Less than pleased?” 

“He’s… protective, but he’ll warm up to you in time, I’m sure. A few days, and he’ll be showing you the ropes. Don’t worry.” 

You keep your nose in your beer. When you’re finished, the next one comes immediately, without prompting, and the bartender swoops low, voice heavy in your ear. 

“On the house.” He winks, and the woman to your left slides closer, curiosity wet on her lips between her drink and the question you know is coming. 

“You’re the scientist?” 

“No, the marine biologist. Cetologist, to be specific.” You cut to the quick and she stares at you, rightfully so. You have the good grace to grimace. “Er, sorry. I’m uh… not great with people.”

“That’s alright. Neither are we, really.” She lifts her drink with a cheers, gesturing to the room, and knocks it back. “So, what’s a cetologist?” 

“I study whales.” She nods knowingly.

“Ah. You’re here for the pod.” 

“Well, I’m interested in the humpbacks too, but yes. I’m mostly here to study the residents.” You were only here to study the pod, but you never said no to a whale, no matter notoriety, or size. You might be getting paid to study the residents, but you were going to soak up every second you could on this island. It’s wilderness was protected and almost pristine, an untamed landscape of mountain and sea too great of a call for you to resist.

The woman stares at you, intrigued, thin veil of amusement dancing in her eyes. “We’re happy to have you. You respect us, we’ll respect you.” The bartender pauses, shining a glass with a hole pocked rag, and glares at her. “Most of us will. Can’t say how John’ll take to ya.” 

“Oh, I work on my own mostly.” You lie, giving her a fake smile that feels awful, and she humphs. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” she flounders, and you provide your name, letting it settle in the air, others turning to give you a questioning look, like they’ve been waiting for it too, and she grins, repeating it with a handshake. “Skip the shortcuts through the forest at night.” She adds over her shoulder, hopping off the stool and wading into the crowd without another word, leaving you confused. 

Skip the… skip the what? 

“Ignore her.” The bartender hastily reassures you, but the emotion doesn’t touch his eyes, lingering gazes in the room enough to have you swallowing the rest of your beer in haste and beelining out the door. 

The walk to your rental is short, up the street and take a left, then another, until you reach the only house at the top of the hill, a duplex with a sweeping, wide planked front porch. 

The top step creaks beneath your weight. An ember glows in the dark. 

“Jesus chr-“ Your heart slams against your ribs, pulse thundering between your ears.

He’s silent. The cigar illuminates his face, a flicker of brilliant blue, crystal clear and piercing, pinned onto you like a laser. 

“It’s late.” It’s the admonishment of a father, and indignant rage flourishes down your spine. 

“I’m an adult, thanks.” He’s unmoved by your spite. Settled like the cedars that grow at the heart of this place, tall enough to blot out the sun, wide enough to build houses, boats. 

He pulls. The orange cinder burns red, honeyed smoke and mahogany sweetening the air. 

The smoking is attractive. It's intriguing, dangerous, and draws you closer, other foot coming to rest on the top step, tempting fate.

"You shouldn't be out around here late."

"The entire town is down at the bar." You shoot back, still rising in anger, rattling with it. You’re a grown woman, who is this guy to tell you what you can and can’t do?

His jaw flexes, mouth tightening into a straight line, invisible string pulling him taut before he speaks again.

"They live here, know their way around. It's not always safe." The protest builds, words coming quick, rapid-fire, but before you can speak, you lose your voice to a chorus of howls.

Wolves.

#peaches writes #john price #john price x reader #this is mostly just vibes #and whales

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

#90s #90s aesthetic #90s nostalgia #90s kid #canada #reboot show #Reboot cartoon #hexadecimal #reboot 1994 #reboot #bob (reboot) #dot matrix #mouse (reboot) #megabyte reboot #Enzo reboot #Phong reboot #gavin blair #Ian Pearson #mainframe entertainment #reboot mainframe #mainframe studios #canadian art #canadian animation #retro cgi #old cgi #vintage cgi #cgi #animation #media recs #watchlist

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Dani A(Clone)

**An Arctic Siren Aside**

***Thank y'all for 200 followers!! I look forward to getting to know y'all!***

Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow of Star City, was not easy to startle. He went through too much training, too much pain to not be on the alert all the time. Letting out a breath, he shot his arrow, hitting his far away target with an ease that he was familiar with after so many years.

“Wow, Mister, you sure have good aim!”

Oliver Queen, when startled, screamed like a goat. He spun, looking for an enemy, but instead was met with the curious face of a young girl sitting on the ground behind him, leaning her chin on her fist.

Oliver took a moment to recollect himself.

“Hello, young miss. Can I help you?”

The girl tilted her head.

“I’m looking for my brother. Are you a hero?”

Nodding, Oliver pointed to his bow with the hand not holding it.

“I’m the Green Arrow.”

She didn’t seem impressed.

“Tell me more about your brother? Is he older? Younger? What’s his name?”

“Stranger danger, what’s your name?”

Oliver paused.

“Green Arrow.”

“His name’s John, in that case. John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith.”

“John?”

“His name is my name too.”

By the glint in the girl’s eyes, Oliver was being pranked somehow and neither child was named John. He tried a different approach.

“What does your brother look like?”

“Like me, but a boy.”

Helpful. He knew he was supposed to be kind and gentle with civilian children, but Oliver almost wanted to pick this girl up and shake her until she had useful information.

There was a crunch on the rooftop behind him, and by the sounds it was Arsenal coming to find out what was taking him so long.

“Oh wow, you’re cool!”

The girl bounced up and darted around Oliver to circle Roy, looking him up and down.

“Now there’s a hero! Baseball cap? Clean shaven? Be still my beating heart!”

Oliver’s only solace was that Roy looked about as off-put as he himself was.

“Can I be a hero? My brother’s a hero, we’d find each other that way!”

Roy smiled at the kid.

“Well, it takes a lot to be a hero, you know? What would your hero name be?”

“Phantom, like my brother. And it’s fine! I’ve got powers, see?”

The girl lifted off the ground, hovering, and crossed her legs underneath her to sit in the air.

“I can do some other stuff too, but the flight is the coolest.”

Oliver looked at Roy, who seemed to be seriously thinking about the girl’s proposition.

“Arsenal, you can’t- What about her parents?”

The girl’s float drooped a little.

“They’re… gone. It’s just me and my brother, and I don’t know where he is. I’m from the Infinite Realms, and I can’t get back without him.”

The Infinite Realms sounded like Justice League Dark shit.

“Let me introduce you to the Teen Titans, then. Phantom, right?”

Phantom lit up, and Oliver stared in shock at his teammate.

Batman would be so pissed at him.

~~~

Dick Grayson smiled at the girl in front of him. Damian had convinced him to come meet her, claiming that she was an ‘integral part of the team’, only a few weeks into her tenure with the Titans.

Phantom smiled back, too sharp teeth on display.

“Hello, Phantom. I’m Nightwing, Robin’s brother. How are you today?”

“Stellar, thanks!” She did a little twirl midair. “How are you, Mister Nightwing sir?”

“I’m doing well. I heard that you didn’t allow for a DNA sample? It would make life in the tower much easier if we had your biometrics.”

She scowled, suddenly dropping to the ground and crossing her arms. She was short, for a sixteen-year-old, but Dick was still a little thrown off by the ferocious look on her face.

“Don’t you Gotham folks know when no means no? Consent is sexy and you are not. I’ve met heroes with better etiquette than any of you.”

He held his hands up in a gesture of peace.

“I won’t force you. Who’s your favorite hero?”

Immediately, as if a switch had been flipped, Phantom was up in the air again, grinning like a loon.

“Phantom Prime, of course! My brother is the strongest person I know.”

Kid Flash looked up from where he’d been assembling a puzzle.

“You met Superman the other day, though?”

Phantom scoffed.

“My brother could kick his ass. Ancients, I'd kick his ass if you guys would let me. He deserves an ass-kicking.”

“Why?”

Dick would admit he was just as confused as Kid Flash.

“Vibes.”

“Vibes? What kind of vibes?”

“Fruitloop vibes.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, Phantom.”

“Sure it does! Hey, Superboy!”

~~~

Kon-el startled at being caught listening in to the conversation. He turned to address Phantom from the tower kitchen.

“What’s up?”

“Is Superman’s secret identity rich?”

“Uh, no?”

“Does he have a lair?”

“Kinda?”

“How is he about clones?”

Kon must have made a face, because Phantom pointed at him.

“Ah-ha! Those vibes! Clone hater vibes.”

Stepping out of the kitchen, Kon tried to downplay the issue.

“I mean, he’s gotten better, but…”

“Nope! He’s still an asshole and deserves an ass-kicking.”

Nightwing held up a hand like a kid in a schoolroom.

“You have an opinion about clones?”

Phantom nodded decisively.

“My brother says that clones didn’t ask to be made, just like any other kid. It’s not their fault, it’s the fault of their creator. He says that the sins of the father should not be visited on the sons.”

Kon stepped closer, curious.

“But. Isn’t it a violation? If someone makes a clone without the donor’s knowledge?”

Phantom looked over at him with big, sad eyes.

“My sister says that’s between the donor and the creator. No kid should be painted as the one in the wrong when they were a victim, too.”

Nightwing spoke up again, sounding a little out of his depth.

“You deal with a lot of clones?”

She grinned, and Kon could tell there was a secret behind the twinkle in her eyes.

“One or two.”

~~~

Dani heard a knock on the frame of her open door and turned to greet her visitor. It was getting late- she was pretty surprised that anyone was still awake.

“Hey Superboy! How can I help?”

“Would you-‘ he looked sheepish. ‘Would you really beat up Superman for me?”

She cracked her knuckles. Someone had said that Kon-el was a clone, but she hadn’t really expected him to admit to it. They weren’t even properly teammates- he was part of Young Justice, not Teen Titans.

“I’d beat up anybody to protect the honor of clone-kind, Superboy.”

“Why?”

Making a split second decision, Dani leaned in close.

“Can you keep a secret, Kon-el?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better. Us clones have to stick together, amiright?”

Superboy looked at her, stunned, and she winked.

“Just don’t tell the bats. Batman has both rich and secret lair vibes.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x batman #arctic siren au #dani fenton #connor kent #superboy #damian wayne #dick grayson

[dtfpeta]

Domesticity with Price...

(a/n: yes I want to make my lover a home cooked meal. yes I want him to wrap his arms around me while I cook. also I was this close to putting nsfw but I may just make a part two)

tags: husband!price, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k __________

Price who comes home to his doting wife standing in front of the stove. A roaring pot of boiling water being salted by your delicate hands which form a harsh pinch on the granules before releasing them into the porcelain dish.

He watches from the door as you slowly canter your hips, humming along to the soft melody of Al Green from your distant record player. His cheeks contort with a smile when he hears your abysmal attempt to recall the lyrics. Startling you out of your unaware serenade when his hands catch in the fabric of your dress to wrap around your waist.

"Smells good." He comments regarding the dish. His face is buried in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other spices that coat the house in its aroma. Your own fragrance of vanilla overwhelms his senses as he sighs into the crook of your neck.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that..." You chastise, knowing the irony that lies in your statement being as stealth is not something your husband is unaccustomed to. "Could've burned myself." You add, half-heartedly scolding and rolling your eyes as his arms tighten their purchase on your hips.

On the stove lies a pot boiling with its now added component of rigatoni. To its side is a sizzling pan that has been providing the house with its encapsulating smell. John eyes the skillet. The melted butter works to caramelize the now translucent onions coated in sparse flakes of red pepper and rosemary. A wooden spatula wielded in your hand stirs the minced garlic cloves, doing your best to prevent their quick to burn nature.

Price loves your cooking and you love to cook for him. Seeing as his face melts into bliss when he tastes what magic you have cast on something as simple as a chicken pot pie. Or the way his eyes bulge when you reveal that a dish he has been scarfing down like a starved dog over the past several months contains mushrooms.

Ever since that day, he has not once argued about an ingredient in your cooking. Even as he eyes the tomato sauce being added to the pan, knowing he is going to suffer a severe case of heartburn but almost welcoming it, as he knows it will accompany an array of flavors he will be holding up his plate for more of.

"M'sorry love." He relishes. "Been looking forward to this all day. N' watching you from the door just made me miss ya' even more."

You scoff at his cheesy comment, placing your left hand to rest on his forearm that is draped around you as your right stirs at the still hard noodles.

You lay your utensil down and lean back into his embrace. Closing your eyes as you feel your bodies link together like a puzzle. One piece being a head taller than the other, but fitting together nonetheless. You sway with your husband to the tempo of the song playing in the background. His body is warm against your back, being stripped of his tactical gear and left in a black cotton shirt tucked into the waist of his same toned cargo pants, the legs of which are folded above his combat boots.

"How was work?" You ask, eyes still closed and body entangled in him. He regards your question with a low hum, feet lightly stepping side to side.

"Hm, the usual. Told some of the boys we could treat em' to dinner sometime. Be nice to get together, maybe show you off a lil'?"

He lightly pinches at your sides while pulling you closer to him. The scruff of his beard dances against your skin as he attacks your neck in quickly scattered kisses.

"John!" You laugh while attempting to distance yourself from his assault. Only to be swiftly turned around where you find his blue eyes smiling fondly at you. The warm tinted light from a nearby lamp casts soft shadows on the crows feet that crinkle near his eyes. The edges of his smile lines sharpening the more he beams at you.

There's not a place on Earth he would rather be.

For the longest, he distanced himself from love. Only finding that unachievable compromises would be asked of him, and due to his work, he was never able to fulfill those wishes. It only put a strain on his and his partners' relationship. He learned to deal with the lack of intimate companionship over the years. Just having the bond of his brothers in arms till he would return to his empty flat and scrounge up whatever microwaveable dish hadn't gone freezer burnt or remnants of leftovers left in his barren refrigerator. Until he met someone he could incorporate into the unpredictable schedule of his life.

The first time you cooked for him he was floored. Joking about how he'd have to hire you as his personal chef and saying how he could only dream of coming home to this every week. You had brought the ingredients to his apartment, insisting that you would treat him to a hot meal if he helped you, which he gladly agreed to. He stood slicing carrots and celery while you stirred a pot of chicken stock, placing sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into the broth as the chicken roasted in the oven, soon to be shredded and added to the pot. Said pot being three times bigger than your head.

"You trying to feed the whole squadron?" He'd teased. To which you only responded with a light snicker, knowing that in making such a large portion would provide him with leftovers for the rest of the week-and then some.

Several years later you now stood in your shared home, a simple wedding band adorning the both of you two's hands. Price's socks litter the shared space until you have to reprimand him to pick them up. Him responding with his own accusations of how you frequently leave your bra on the couch as well as your adversity to keep your hair ties in one place. What can you say, it's just more convenient when they're around the house.

The two of you's cleaning habits aren't the only thing that could use work though. The decorations are an obvious clash of one person who enhances the space with homely, comforting pieces, and another who has a hard time letting go of secondhand artifacts. And after Price's constant defense of his 'live laugh love' banner hanging on the wall of the kitchen, you began to give in to the cliché relic.

A more than familiar tune begins to play from the record player.

"Oh my God" Price's teeth shine through his grin as he picks up on the melody as well. It's the song you shared your first dance together to.

His coordinated hands move to your hips, your own responding by wrapping around his neck. You gaze up at him. The quickening of your heart makes its frequent appearance as he looks down at you. The butterflies you feel every time you look at him have yet to diminish their strength over the years. Even as you heard stories of the dreaded period following the honeymoon phase where couples do nothing but bicker, your heart remained the same.

The only thing you can focus on is his hickory-toned voice humming to the lyrics of the track. The vibration rumbles through his chest, making its way to your ear resting upon him. He sways with your body against his until you are replicating the dance from that night. Since that night he has always made it apparent you were his first priority. He protects and serves you, as you have brought a peace to his life he didn't think was possible.

"Y'know on my way home," he began "saw this woman with her kid. Maybe 5 years old. He was sitting on a bench while she was on the ground tying his shoe. He was swinging his leg, reading some comic book to her. Poor lasses feet barely touched the ground!" He lets out a breathy laugh before pausing for a moment. "Just got me thinking."

"About?"

"Bein' a dad." He stated, kissing the temple of your face. "Making you a mum."

You smiled into his chest. John knew you wanted kids, and he did too. The time just never found itself convenient. And even now there are uncertainties, but the knowledge you have that John would be an excellent father left you planting seedlings of the idea in his head when you had the chance. Passing by a pair of cute baby shoes in the store. The ring of adolescent laughter when you'd visit the aquarium. Or even a dress you would buy, waiting for your husband to compliment it before mentioning the garment worked as a maternity piece too.

Something had been pulling at his paternal strings lately, however. He yearned to fill the house with the both of your makings. Leaving your marks in its foundation. Whether that be with the rug you both haggled for at the flea market. The broken spring of your living room couch, product of an intense wrestling match between you two. (In which both parties were considered victorious by the end.) Or the poolhouse-toned blue paint that made its acquaintance on the crown molding of your bedroom wall. (Also caused by some spout of play fighting or whatever attempt Price had to get his hands on you.)

You leaned back to search his face, only finding a look of great fondness pulling at his features. Your palms came to cradle the sides of his face before a smile stretched on your own.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that." You brought his lips to yours, embracing him in a tender touch as you laughed into the kiss. Your hold on one another tightened. Knowing that Price was ready to take such a giant step now made you giddy as you imagined him holding his future child, playing make-believe with them, and cleaning up their bumps and bruises from playing in the yard.

"Can't believe you're saying yes to a baby before a dog, John." You both laughed before you turned your head at the smell of burnt garlic.

"Shit!" You quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir at the red mixture before turning the stove off.

"Don't tell me you lost your touch already, sweetheart?"

"You were distracting me." You declare, pointing your spatula at the towering man. "Just get the bowls from the cabinet and set the table, yeah?"

"Of course, hun." He mocked.

You glared a burning look into the back of his before he did as instructed, your temper cooling as you poured the pot of soft noodles into a strainer.

You and John were able to turn a house into your home. Soon the floor and walls would be sheathed in memories of your family. One of the first being your dinner of a burnt tomato rigatoni pasta.

#call of duty #john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #price mw2

[the-faceless-bride]

What does she have...

Johnny 'soap" Mactavish × (obsessive?) Reader

Plot: Johnny 'John' Macravish. The man you've been in love with since you were 13 years old. The boy next door who promised to protect you, care about you, and be by your side. Promised to be your best friend. Grown up together and still close to this day. Only you want to be more, but... It seems he just can't leave behind the free life, sleeping where he wants, when he wants with who he wants... He needs more than you. And you just can't expect that.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/no comfort/comfort, unrequited love, swearing, mentions of sex, Sex, seeing the man you love with someone else, Civilian reader, friends to lovers?, mentions of abuse, Johnny gets hurt at some point.

A/n: this will have a choose-your-path style to it, cuz I find interaction fun! And a pick your ending. I listened to 'Put Me in a Movie' by Lana on repeat while making this. Slowed and reverbed.

You had been in love with him as long as you. Would remember. Your mom's being close friends and all. You'd grown up practically in the same house. And you'd loved every second of it.

It broke your heart when he first told you he was joining the military. That was the first time you and him had ever fought. But you still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Why do you care so much?!" he screamed at you. An uncomfortable silence followed, you wanted to tell him. 'I'm in love with you, I care for you, I just want you to be safe. Can't you be here safe... With me?' but instead, you had stupidly said, 'You're like my brother. I wouldn't want my brother to get hurt.' you regret not telling him that night, either our come would've spared you years of her break...

But today you'd been ecstatic, Johnny was coming home today. He had sent you the letter and that some squad mates would stay! You were excited to meet everyone... At first...

When everyone had set down the bags and you saw that shaggy mohalk you came running down the steps of Johnny's house.

Johnny and you had a comfortable dynamic between the two of you. You had your little apartment for one that you stayed at when Johnny was home from his missions. But while he was gone you stayed in his house, keeping the dust bunnies away and his house warm.

Neither of you minded the agreement. You especially, you got to lay in his bed every night. Thinking and dreaming what it would be like to go to bed and wake up next to him.

You hugged Johnny and he laughed at you almost knocking him over, his sweet laughter... His smell, his voice... "miss me lassy? Heh-" his silly teasing, a perfect moment...

"who's your little friend?" a moment ruined by the sound of another woman's voice. You jumped back to look at her, "this is [Name], my good friend. Practically my little sister-" aaannd there it was. That gut-wrenching feeling of another needle stabbing your heart.

This woman was tall, very muscular, and had a scar under her left eye. Blonde hair and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen.

And you knew instantly what her 'relationship' with Johnny was. They were always the same.

Every mission he came back from he had a pretty woman aside him. Sometimes from the mission, other just a girl he found at the local pub after a drink with his mates.

Always another pretty woman. But never you.

You went home and cried every time.

"It's nice to meet you all," you said with a smile, hoping his teammates wouldn't notice the slight drop in your mood knowing a woman was with them. They had all kindly introduced themselves, except the big one with the mask, he just stared at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind those dark eyes.

"I'm Gaz, it's nice to meet you! We were just gonna set our things inside and head for a drink would you like to come?"

While a drink would be nice you learned your lesson. You had only been around Johnny when he was drunk twice. Both times ended with you crying.

The first time, you had gone out with him to celebrate his return. It was going smoothly and you were having fun. Seeing the Man you love having fun, being alive. But it quickly went south when you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you came back Johnny had a woman on his arm, Dancing and whispering in her ear. Kissing her neck, letting her rake her fingernails down his strong chest.

You felt sick. You rushed back to his house and ended up crying yourself to sleep in a guest room. But being woken up to the sickening sound of that woman moaning Johnny's name.

And the second time...

"oh no thank you, I just finished tidying up here and I gotta get home to my cat." you joked and he thankfully accepted your excuse. Johnny didn't even notice you leaving...

You couldn't sleep, you laid awake wondering what it was like to be that woman. To be fucked into the mattress by Johnny. Your Johnny.

You'd dreamed and fantasized about it many many times. To kiss him. To hold him. To moan for him. A dream you touched yourself every night too. It made you feel less lonely.

You wondered if when lying in his bed she smelled your perfume?

You had a very specific perfume, you had been wearing it every day since you were 16, you'd worn it once and Johnny had said you 'smelled nice' and since then you'd only ever wear That specific scent.

In your mind, when he smelled that scent he would always think of you. And you had slept on his bed every night since he had been gone, you know you still lingered on his sheets.

You'd always wondered if Johnny... Liked... The smell of you on his bed. You knew he knew you slept in his bed, instead of one of the guest beds he had in his home. But he had never once told you to stop... Maybe he liked it?... Maybe...

For a moment you reviled in the idea that while she was being fucked, her head shoved into the pillows she'd be forced to smell you lingering on his sheets. Maybe if you were right the smell might... Make him think of you... If only for a moment... Maybe...

You sigh.

Why couldn't it just be you? What did all those other women have... That you didn't?

Why couldn't he... Just pick you?

Tags: @godihatethiswebsite

Part 1/???

#gaz cod #cod soap #soap cod #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 imagine #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny my love #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #taskforce 141 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[libraryofloveletters]

History Book Repeats Itself

pairing: fernando alonso x reader

summary: looking up and looking down, it never felt so right. 

author’s note: this is for the nando fuckers, even the ones on the lows. wife yn is giving supportive and y’all could never, she’s the superior wag - for @oconso

all photos are from instagram and/or pinterest :)

written in the photos series masterlist

youruser added an instagram story.

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youruser

liked by fernandoalo_official, alpinef1team, lance_stroll and 139,543 others 

youruser: goodbye alpinef1team 💙 - hello astonmartinf1 💚

tagged: alpinef1team, astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_official 

view 721 comments 

alpinef1team: we’ll miss you in the garage! 💙

comment liked by youruser

user14: I wonder how many green outfits yn can put together for next year

↪️youruser: already started shopping 🤣

fernandoalo_official: ❤️

user31: her using him getting out the alpine and into the aston so making me emotional like wtf

astonmartinf1: can’t wait to have you with us! 💚

comment liked by youruser

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youruser added an instagram story.

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fernandoalo_official

liked by youruser, felipedrugovich, lance_stroll and 323,833 others 

fernandoalo_offcical: magic💚 astonmartinf1 

view 1,882 comments 

youruser: fuck yeah baby 

comment liked by lance_stroll 

user16: he’s never gonna retire now is he 😭

astonmartinf1: 💚💚💚💚

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youruser

liked by pierregasly, fernandoalo_official, estebanocon and 127,534 others 

youruser: just a little humble brag about my man 🤭 10 races in and 6 podium finishes, he’ll see y’all on the podium when they’re back on track for the second half of the season 💚

tagged: fernandoalo_official 

view 890 comments 

astonmartinf1: okay mrs. alonso coming in with the energy we need 👏

comment liked by youruser, fernandoalo_official

user31: her calling him her man is taking me outtttt even tho it is her man 😭

fernandoalo_official: te amo ❤️

comment liked by youruser 

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fernandoalo_official

liked by youruser, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 342,543 others 

fernandoalo_official: mi vida ❤️ siempre tan solidaria, te amo siempre. (my life ❤️ always so supportive, i love you forever)

location: spain // tagged: youruser 

view 1,463 comments 

user00: yn always eats, no crumbs left ever. #bestwag

youruser: te quiero mucho!!! 

comment liked by fernandoalo_official

pierregasly: how he bagged her, I’ll never know 

↪️user16: pierreeeeee you’re not on your burner 😭

↪️pierregasly: oops 😬

am18: when will it be my turn!!!!

astonmartinf1: hottest couple in and out of the paddock 

↪️ajimmyslife: that was supposed to be commented from this account my bad 

user14:^this is why jimmy/aston admin is the superior admin 

#written in the photos social media series #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x y/n #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au

[crappymixtape]

gold & glitter

REQUEST → @superblysubpar, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ i’m thinking a little rich!steve harrington, a little spicy somethin, somethin and a holiday play – spicy is right, steve takes you to see the nutcracker, but you don’t even make it to the first act • 18+  | ( 3.1k – smut with a dash of fluff, rich!steve x reader )

G O L D & G L I T T E R 🎶 the nutcracker suite, tchaikovsky

“Good evening, Mister Harrington. Miss. May I take your jackets?”

“Thank you, Charles. Did you order the MacCallan Anniversary malt?”

“Of course, sir. It is available neat here from your decanter or we can dress up however you like. Miss, your jacket?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you opened them again expecting the finery before you to disappear into thin air like a dream, but it didn’t.

“Oh ye-yeah. I mean-yes. Yes, thank you,” you stumbled over your words as the waitstaff took your coat and disappeared behind the curtain. God, you were working overtime to maintain the same level of calm and collected sophistication that seemed to come so easily to your date.

Steve Harrington. Son of John Harrington and heir to the Harrington fortune. One with a foundation built by generations of brokers and wealth managers. Carried on throughout the years to be passed down to the eldest or, in Steve’s case, the only son.

You’d been together for over a year now, but you still weren’t used to it. This lifestyle.

Going anywhere with him meant multiple planned routes in and out of your destinations. Private cars with dark tinted, bullet-proof windows. Black American Express cards, Gucci loafers, and champagne flown direct from the Garonne Valley in Bordeaux, France.

And of course, at Christmastime, a viewing of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker from a private balcony, performed by only the finest troupe at the New York City Ballet.

You’d been to the theatre, the opera, but never like this. A suite all to yourselves, up and away from prying eyes, and upon each seat rested a pair of exquisitely golden opera binoculars for your viewing pleasure. It felt otherworldly. Lush and dark, gilded and polished. Long, red, crushed velvet curtains draped heavy to the floor and on a small table thick, crystalline tumblers sat next to a matching decanter full of only the finest single malt whiskey.

Lifting a hand, you ghosted an immaculately manicured finger around the rim of one of the glasses.

“Is it up to your standards, honey?”

The low, warmth of Steve’s voice broke your trance and pulled your gaze quick to look up at him.

“What?” you wondered aloud, still surprised at how he could ask such questions, “My standards? God. It’s beautiful.”

“Good. M’glad you like it.”

A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth as he watched you walk to lean out over the balcony and look down at the sea of seats below. You were wearing the emerald green dress he’d bought you especially for the occasion. Made of the finest silk and fitted tight against every curve and dip of your body. Your hair swept long over one shoulder, soft skin exposed through the keyhole cut into the back. You were exquisite.

And you were all his.

Tucking a hand into the pocket of his slacks he reluctantly looked away from you and took up the decanter to pour a measure of whiskey for himself. MacCallan, single malt, from 1928 and around three-hundred thousand dollars a bottle. Lifting the tumbler he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut. Worth every single penny.

“Charles,” his voice notched up in volume and the man from earlier appeared through the thick, velvet curtains.

“Sir?”

“A bottle of Dom and a chilled glass,” Steve took a drink from his whiskey and let it sit on a his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “Oh, and my cigar case.”

“Sir, you know smoking isn’t permitted–”

Steve hummed, a low thrum in his throat, and stepped forward toward the other man.

“How much do I pay for these seats, Charles? How much does my family pay for these seats? Since the theatre opened in 1964…I’ll let you do the math,” he took another sip of whiskey and lifted a hand to smooth down the other man’s cravat, “My cigar case.”

“Yes. Of course, Mister Harrington,” the man replied quietly, eyes glued to the cheap, shiny black plastic of his dress shoes.

Steve put on a smile, the one he gave to clients when he knew he’d closed an account, and gripped the man’s shoulder, “Good man.”

And without another word Charles was off again through the curtain.

There was no denying it, Steve’s presence always held weight. Held power. No one could tell him no. Stood in boardrooms dressed to the nines. Gold heirloom cufflinks, custom tailored jackets and Tucci de Lusso oxfords included, but this version of him was different. Somehow more and you didn’t know how it was possible.

Brunette locks perfectly coiffed. Custom black Armani suit fitted tight across his chest and shoulders. Gold signet ring with his initials engraved upon it shining up from his index finger, and damn if his ass didn’t look incredible in those slacks.

You clicked your tongue at him and fixed him with a look, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Babe, he’s just trying to enforce the house rules,” smoothing a hand up his chest, you pretended to adjust his tie as an excuse to touch him.

“Honey, you and I both know who makes the rules around here,” he drawled, his tone making you weak in the knees, and he set his glass down in favor of taking hold of your waist. His hand wide and warm on the small of your back as he ran it down the curve of your ass and squeezed, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Steve,” you chided, no heat behind it, and he dipped down to press a kiss to your neck.

“This really is your color,” he whispered in your ear and your eyes fluttered at the sound. Pressed your thighs together as he traced a finger across your exposed collarbone. Warmth blooming in your core as he followed the hem that chased along the edge of your shoulder.

“You’ve got good taste,” you whispered back, swallowing the moan that had crept up your throat and he grinned.

“I do, don’t I.”

“Sir, your cigar cas–oh!”

Charles came back through the curtain to find the two of you pressed into each other, Steve’s nose buried in the crook of your neck. Your cheeks burned at being caught.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I should’ve–”

“S’alright,” Steve chuckled, pulling away from you to casually take the case from the other man without missing a beat. He reached into his money clip and slipped a hundred dollar bill into Charles’ hand, “Now. That will be all. If I need anything, I’ll ring you.” The finality of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Excuse me,” and with that Charles disappeared again for what you were certain, after all that, would be the last time.

“Shit,” you breathed, cheeks still bright red as you bit back a laugh.

Steve was laughing too, but no where near embarrassed, and he grabbed your hand to pull you close to his chest again as the theatre lights flickered and slowly dimmed.

“Mmm, damn. Showtime,” he murmured softly into your hair.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of having to sit so still, and so far from Steve for three hours, but then another thought came to you. One that made your cheeks flush again and you pressed your face into his lapel, breathing in the citrusy, cedar scent of his cologne.

Pulling away just enough to meet his gaze the expression you maintained was innocent, but the look in your eye wasn’t. It was dark and needy. Warm and flickering at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“We could freshen up first,” you suggested quietly and as Steve put your words together his pupils blew wide. Pools of black edged in gold and he squeezed at the plush of your hip.

“Uh-huh,” came out strangled and it was all he could manage. Unable to focus on anything other than rucking that silk dress up around your thighs, and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the thick, velvet curtains.

The corridor was empty, Charles hiding wherever he’d rushed off to, and everyone else was in their seats to catch the opening act as Steve led you the short distance down the hall.

Luckily for you, the neighboring balcony’s ticket holders had filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year and now the restrooms on this wing were exclusively Steve’s. Doors crafted from thick oak and etched with breathtaking carvings of Swan Lake and Slyphide, they were heavy enough to drown out anything happening on the other side.

Thank god.

Ignoring the men’s and women’s signs, Steve chose the closest door and shouldered into it, bicep straining against the tight fabric of his shirt as he held muscled it open. It was a hurried mess, both of you tripping into the room on the train of your dress in a fit of giggles as Steve huffed a laugh and cursed under his breath.

“Baby.”

Heels clicking on the white granite tile floor, you regained your footing and finally took in all the exquisite details of the ornate room. Wide marble slabs. Bottles of lotion and perfume that cost more than your mortage. Gold fixtures shining in the low light falling from crystal chandeliers that refracted bright shards of color against the walls.

You would have appreciated the incredible beauty of it all, but Steve. You couldn’t have cared less and neither could he.

He spun you around to face him and hooked his arms behind the backs of your legs. Scooped you up off the ground and pulled a squeal from you as you held on tight around his neck to steady yourself.

Squeezing his hold on you, he freed an arm and swept it across the counter. Knocked the soap dish clattering into the sink basin and paid absolutely no attention to the lush basket of designer hand towels that fell to the floor as he lifted you with ease onto the marble surface.

“Steve,” you protested weakly and when he notched himself between your legs you felt yourself melt under him.

His hands were everywhere. Your waist, the small of your back, fingers pressing into your cheek and pushing your hair over your shoulder to drag messy, open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. It pulled a moan from your lips and at the sound he groaned into you.

“Christ, babe. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since you climbed into the limo. Pretty as a fuckin’ picture in this thing. So damn hot. All for me, huh?”

“S’always for you,” you half-laughed, but it caught in your throat as he slipped a hand between your thighs, “God, Steve.”

“This for me too, honey?”

He gathered a handful of emerald green silk in one hand and pooled it at your waist as the cool air of the room sent a shiver up your spine. Then he caught sight of the black lace panties hugging tight against you and sucked in a breath. Bit down on his bottom lip and looked like he might cry.

“You’re gonna kill me with these. Are you kiddin’ me? Baby. Look at this,” he babbled, just standing there not touching you and you grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him back into you.

“Talk too much,” you murmured against his ear, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging your nails against his skin, “It’s all yours…Mister Harrington.”

And fuck if the dress and panties weren’t enough, the sound of your voice wrapped around his name did him in.

“Damn right it is.”

He growled as you tugged on his hair, slipped his hand back between your legs and tugged the thin fabric of your panties aside. The way he had been kissing and talking at you out on the balcony had been plenty to send you pressing your thighs together, but the way he was handling you in here had you soaked.

His fingers slipped in your slick as he felt just how wet you were and he smirked against your skin as he dragged his lips up to your jawline. Tutting softly he slowly circled your clit, his other hand moving to wrap gently around the column of your throat.

“Bet you want me to talk now, huh honey? You want that? Talk dirty to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper as his fingers slid down to press against your entrance.

You swallowed against the hand he had on your throat, your lips dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’ as you squirmed against the counter, impatient for him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed and he smirked at how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally as he slid one into you.

“That’s my girl. I know what you like, don’t I? Give you everything you need. Take care of you, hm?” he babbled, kissing and sucking at the hollow behind your ear as he began to slide his finger in and out, in and out. A slow drag at first before adding a second finger and pulling a moan from your lips.

“Good care of me,” fell out mindlessly as he gently tightened the hand on your throat making your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“This isn’t enough though, is it? Not enough. Want me to fill you up, don’t you honey?” he whispered and you nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and god you wanted him to make you see stars.

He pulled his hand from between your legs to undo the button on his pants and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the loss of his touch.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he coaxed, pulling down his zipper and reaching in to free his rock hard cock.

It sprang out of his pants without any encouragement and he wrapped a hand around it. Rubbed it against your slit as it practically cried in anticipation and as he slowly pushed himself into you it made you sucked in a rasp of a breath.

“Steve,” you begged and he moved his hand to grip your thigh.

“I know, baby.”

An inch more and he was into you up to the hilt. Filling you so much that you could feel the tip pressing against the spot only he could reach. Easing out he groaned as you clenched down on him before pushing back in and he set the pace there. A slow drag. In, out. In, out.

The wet sounds coming from you as he fucked you slowly were obscene. Made louder by the empty room, but you didn’t care. You wanted more.

“Harder,” you pleaded. He wanted it too and as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding into your cunt he nearly lost it.

Letting go of your throat he grabbed onto your other thigh for purchase and pulled you to the very edge of the counter. Picked up the pace and started fucking you faster, the slap, slap, slap of his thighs against yours filling the air.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. You like that? Huh? Want more?”

“More–shit. Yes, god. More, Steve.”

Your knuckles were white with how hard you were gripping the counter, moans falling freely from your lips now as Steve pushed you both closer and closer to climax. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he squeezed into the plush of your thighs and your hand flew up to grab at the back of his neck.

“Gonna–ugh–come, baby. Come with me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw ticking when he clenched down, and as he rocked his hips back into you, you both came.

Your orgasm wrapped around you tight. White hot. Electric. Every inch of you buzzing and sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July and you cried out as his thrusts fell out of sync, jerky and messy as he came down.

A soft thud echoed against the tile as your head fell back against the mirror behind you, beads of sweat holding your hair messy across your forehead. Steve leaned into you, rested his head on your chest, and slowly your breaths evened out.

Your lips twitched with a smile, your hand lifting to cover your mouth as you held back a laugh, and Steve seemed to have the same thought as he chuckled against your dress.

“Someone heard us. For sure,” you finally said, voice crackly from breathing so hard.

“And? Who gives a shit. Maybe we just gave them a good idea,” Steve grinned, looking up at you from where he rested his chin on your belly.

You swatted at him, gasping as he pulled out of you to avoid getting hit.

Bending down, Steve grabbed a couple of the hand towels from where they’d landed on the tile and ran warm water on them. Quickly cleaned himself up and then took his time with you. Paid close attention to where he’d held onto your throat. Where his fingertips pressed into your thighs. Dabbed softly across your forehead and spent extra time on the mess between your legs.

You touched up your makeup and perfume, adjusted Steve's tie and hair, and when you both finally emerged from the bathroom the piece the orchestra was playing reached a crescendo and the theatre filled with applause.

It couldn’t be the end of the first act?

Steve walked you easy back to the balcony and held the heavy velvet curtain open for you. Your gilded opera binoculars were still sitting perfectly upon your seat where you’d left them and the bottle of chilled Dom Perignon was on ice along with a champagne flute – you hated whiskey.

You both sank into your seats as the orchestra began to play again and you recognized the piece and shot Steve a look.

“The party scene just started,” you whispered, “We’re not even out of the first part of act one.”

“Christ,” he groaned, grinning into his hands as he rubbed them across his face. Then, glancing over at you he grabbed his cigar box, “We can always make up for it next year. Right?”

Your eyes grew wide.

“Skip the Nutcracker?” you asked incredulously and he quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah. Skip it and we’ll go catch part two of the bathroom scene at mine,” he said giving you a wicked grin and you feigned shock, your own grin threatening to shatter your facade.

“Mister Harrington, what would your mother say?”

And the look he gave you then was the absolute definition of smug.

“My Stevie boy always gets what he wants.”

And damn if she wasn’t right about that.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #asks #requests #steve harrington smut #steve smut #rich steve harrington #old money steve harrington #averymerrymixtape

[queercanon13]

The Karma music video is packed with queer and sapphic themes. But what’s with that yellow beret?

We all watched the Karma music video on Friday (or Saturday), right? And then we all watched it ten more times because there IS JUST SO MUCH THERE. Right?!

I can’t even begin to unpack the whole thing yet, but let’s talk about the yellow brick road scene.

Taylor is obviously wearing ruby slippers (“the rubies that I gave up”) alluding to Dorothy/the Wizard of Oz. But she’s not wearing the rest of Dorothy’s getup. That’s because she’s not Dorothy, but in fact a friend of Dorothy.

She’s holding a broom (lots of witchy themes from her lately) and blows a kiss of blue (iykyk) glitter to three grim reapers (the two SBs and…?).

She’s keeping her side of the street clean, which harkens to the YNTCD MV where she clearly shows which side of the street she’s on:

Other things of note: it appears there are daisies embroidered on her collar, as well as growing along the yellow brick road. Her braids are also looped (“your braids make a pattern”).

The yellow brick road itself may be a nod to Elton John and his album/song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Here are some of the lyrics from that song, as well as a generally accepted analysis of the lyrics:

&

Seems like it would be super relatable to Taylor, right? Add in Elton John’s queerness/coming out journey, and the parallels continue.

There are probably a hundred other things I’m missing just from that scene alone, but what I really wanna talk about is the yellow beret, especially in light of current news surrounding Taylor.

When I saw the yellow beret, I furiously googled “yellow beret” + the names of Taylor’s muses, but I came up empty-handed. Because Taylor is specifically not wearing a Dorothy costume, I knew that fucking hat had to mean something. Then I remembered — isn’t yellow beret a military term? And we know she loves a good war story. To Google I went, and the results did not disappoint.

During the Vietnam war, all physicians in the US had a mandatory draft order. One of the ways to avoid the draft was to apply for a position with a Public Health Service program called the NIH Associates Training Program. Because the elite program was highly competitive, only a small percentage of doctors were able to serve their required military time without going to war.

Yellow beret was a self-deprecating and derogatory term used by and for doctors who avoided getting a green beret/going to war (yellow can be associated with cowardice, i.e. “yellow-bellied”) via the NIH program.

Sounding familiar? But wait there’s more.

Bob Seger wrote a song in 1966 called The Ballad of the Yellow Beret. It was written as a parody of the song The Ballad of the Green Berets. Here are some of the lyrics (I encourage you to read all of them!):

Verse 1: Fearless cowards of the USA // Bravely here at home they stay // They watch their friends get shipped away // The draft dodgers of the Yellow Beret

Okay, I’m seated.

Verse 3: Men who faint at the sight of blood // Their high-heeled boots weren't meant for mud // The draft board will hear their sob stories today // Only the best win the yellow beret

Oooookay.

Verse 4: Back at home a young wife waits // Her yellow beret has met his fate // He's been drafted for marching in a protest //Leaving her his last request

Are you screaming yet? Just wait.

Verse 5: Put a yellow streak down my son's back // Make sure that he never ever fights back // At his physical have him say he's gay // Have him win the yellow beret

And if that wasn’t enough, two of the last lyrics are “I've got a pimple on my trigger finger” (ew) and “well, we were planning on having children sometime soon” (devastating). These themes also align with The Great War, epiphany, etc.

But despite attempts to diminish their efforts through claims of cowardice, these “yellow beret” physician-scientists contributed to some of the most important and innovative medical research we have today. Dr. Fauci attended the training program, as well as nine others who went on to win Nobel Prizes.

Could it be that Taylor is trying to tell us that, while it looks like she dodged the draft (didn’t come out), she’s doing some important mastermind shit behind the scenes? Only time will tell, but since we are now at “dawn,” I believe daylight is soon to follow. ☀️

#gaylor #taylor swift #the eras tour #karma mv #karma taylor swift #karma is a cat #karma ft ice spice #karma remix #gaylor swift #swiftgron #kaylor

[castiwls]

Love your blog btw:)

I saw you do platonic and was wondering if you could do one with the boys sister (if possible could she be older then sam but younger then dean) where there all dealing with the fallout of johns death

tysm!

by your side - d.w & s.w

Pairing; Sam & Dean x sister!reader (platonic)

Synposis; Johns death hit all of his children hard

Warnings; angst

Notes; I feel i kinda made John sound like a good dad in this lmao but how you wanna take it is up to you

Masterlist

The thought of your dad dying had always lingered over your head. Every time he missed a check in a voice in the back of your head screamed that it had finally happened. That John Winchester had made a fatal mistake and been killed by whatever he’d been hunting.

Dean had always assured you that it could never happen. But no matter what your older brother said the thought always lingered. Though in all the scenarios you’d imagined, you’d never imagined it happening like this. You’d never thought he would make a deal with a demon.

It had been a few days since Dean had been discharged and the three of you had decided to go up to Bobbys. None of you had really spoken about what had happened in the hospital. Dean had spent his time working on the Impala and you had locked yourself away in one of the guest's rooms.

You felt as if you were in a state of shock. You and your dad hadn’t always seen eye to eye but as you lay staring at the ceiling you couldn’t help but replay every memory of him you had. As you lay there you could feel tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

Your dad was dead and you never even got to say goodbye. John Winchester was by no means a perfect man, but he was your father and you loved him all the same.

A knock on your door had you quickly wiping your eyes before sitting up. “Co-come in.” 

The door squeeked as it opened and Sam’s head appeared. His eyes looked red as if he’d also been crying and you frowned. “Sam? What’s wrong?” You asked your younger brother. 

He didn't say anything as he shuffled into your room before lying down beside you. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “The last thing we did was argue y/n. He probably died thinking that I hated him or something” He sniffled slightly looking at you with teary eyes. Guilt had been eating Sam alive for the past few days. He’d never gotten to properly apologise and now he would never have the chance. 

You sighed before beginning to run a hand through his hair. “Sam. He knows you didn’t hate him. Trust me.” You smiled softly at him. “I know he never said it but deep down he was so proud of you.”

Sam hummed softly and leaned further into your chest.

“She’s telling the truth, Sammy.” Another voice chimed in. You felt the bed dip as Dean sat behind you. Sam kept quiet but you felt him relax slightly at Deans's words. 

Your brothers were all you had now. You felt Dean lie down beside you and you shifted slightly so you could see him. He rubbed a hand up your arm as he looked at your younger brother. 

After a while, Sam’s breathing evened out and you felt his hold loosen slightly as sleep took over.

“Are you ok? Seriously.” You whispered turning your head to look at Dean. The green-eyed man didn’t say anything for a moment and he just continued to rub your arm. “I…I don’t know.” He finally admitted. “Y/n what he said to me about-” He gestured to Sam. “what did he mean.” Dean’s tone was serious as he spoke. What John had told him was clearly causing more bother than you first realised. 

“And he only made that deal for me. I don’t understand why he would throw it all away when he was so close.” He frowned looking down at you.

“Maybe because your his son and he cared more about you than that damn thing that killed Mom.” Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Maybe you were right.

He let out a sigh before shaking his head. “I don’t wanna have this conversation right now okay.” He wrapped his arm around you before settling down. 

“It’s late. We can talk in the morning.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go to sleep.” 

Dean closing off was what you expected but at least you’d planted the seed. He shouldn't feel guilty for what your dad did. You nodded and spared Sam a glance.

The youngest Winchester was still sleeping calmly against your chest and you smiled softly brushing a hand through his hair. You felt Dean’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly. You knew the movement was his way of telling you to sleep and stop worrying over Sam. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you lay back on the pillows, placing your head on Deans's shoulder. “Night.”

“Night sweetheart.”

None of you were okay but you had each other and as you lay there for the first time in days you felt some semblance of peace.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x you #john winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #john winchester x daughter!reader #winchester!sister #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #spn angst #spn fanfic #sam winchester imagine

[deepinsonder]

Better man, Dean winchester

Pairings: Dean winchester x f!reader, mentions of John Winchester

Warnings: Talk about kids and John Winchester

Summary: Unlike Dean, Y/n grew up with a picket fence and loving parents, so she dreams of kids and marriage but Dean isn’t sure whether it should be with him.

Tags: Fluff?? Angst??

When you were 12, you never pictured yourself as a doctor or a fireman, when asked ‘what you wanted to be when you were older’, you always replied with “I don’t know”. Because the only thing you did know was that you wanted a family, people to love and surround yourself with.

When you were 22, you met Dean Winchester, he was charming and sweet, and flaky to say the least, but you were persistent. You stayed with him, you understood what his job entailed and when you looked into his eyes you could feel everything he felt.

Soon, you thought maybe it was okay to never have the only life you dreamed for yourself because you had Dean. Who stood by you, just like you had with him. Who kissed your cheek every morning and made you breakfest. Maybe it was fine.

Dean tried hard to make you happy, on the days where you would join him and Sam on the occasional hunt, he sometimes saw you stare a little to long at the kids with their families, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you met eyes with a baby and how you never failed to volunteer to check in with the kids during a hunt.

So there you were, laying in bed next to the love of your life, a man who had saved the world countless times unbeknownst to everyone else. Your head rested on his chest, as his arm sat flat on your hips.

“We should get married,” You could hear Deans heart rate, raise. But soon became normal, he rubbed circles on your hip bone with his fingers, you turned your head to look at him only to find a small grin on his face, “what?”, you asked, with a smile on your lips.

“You want to get married?” He asked, a throaty laugh escaped his lips as he kissed your forehead.

“I do,” You said, “It’s not that weird for a girl to wanna marry her dude,”.

“So marry me then,” He said, his green eyes looked into yours as he hugged your body tighter.

“No, you have to ask me properly,” You said, as a giggle escaped your lips, “I want romance, I want to swoon and I want a ring,”.

“Okay.” Dean said, nodding as he kissed your head again, “Done deal,”.

“That was easy,” You laid back into your comfy position, this time it felt different, Deans fingers had come to a halt.

“You thought I wouldn’t want to marry you?” Dean asked sitting up, confused at the notion. You didn’t know but Dean had bought a ring last year, after a hunt. He’d been waiting for the right time and for a moment to ask you whether you would ever consider marrying him.

You sat up beside him, “No, I mean- I just never thought you wanted this- marriage, me, anything outside of hunting,”.

“It’s not like we’ll have a picket fence life, it’ll be us- you know?” He said, putting arm around your shoulders, you leaned into him out of instinct.

“Yeah, the picket fence life,” You laughed a little, but it didn’t come out as joyful, rather it was laced with saddness. You moved down, laying your head in Deans lap, thinking about everything you would miss and whether it outweighed everything you already had.

Dean heard the tone of your laugh, he frowned, knowing exactly what you wanted. You wanted a family and you wanted a life. He was willing to give it to you, but he was scared.

“I know you want kids,” He said, he coughed a little, the thought made him uncomfortable, it made his stomach churn with anxiety.

“I never said- I never implied that I did, I mean getting married doesn’t mean kids, Dean,” You said, “You don’t have to worry,”.

“I see how you look at a little girl with their moms, I see how you smile at the kids we take care of you, I know you want kids, Y/n. I want you to have it all, I really do-,” Dean started, you lifted your head to look at him, tears pricked in his eyes. The thought of having kids with you seemed like a miracle, something that only happened in his dreams.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about this, I know you don’t want that,” You said, a soothing hand stroking your face.

“I can’t have kids, Y/N, I couldn’t be good to them, the way Dad raised me and Sammy, history repeats it’s self,” Dean said, taking your hands from his face and into his own.

“You are not your father,” You said, “I never knew him, Dean. But from what I’ve heard- The stories you’ve told, you are nothing like him,”.

“I am, I lived the life he wanted me to, I’ve killed and tortured and hunted, I became who he raised me to be,” His voice cracked as he spoke, “I can’t risk bringing kids- My kids into this life, knowing how much sacrifice it takes.”.

“I know, baby,” Tears welled in your eyes as you saw one escape his, he lip trembled as you tightened the grip on his hands.

“I am my fathers son,” He said, softly, wiping the tear from your cheek.

“You put your dad on this pedestal, you speak about him fondly and yet you’re scared to be him, but I want you to know that you aren’t Dean. Your dad loved you, he spent his whole life hunting the thing that killed your mom,” You straddle his lap this time, legs on either side of his, your hands cupped his face, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Dean didn’t cry often, he had never cried with you. It broke your heart to think that he would ever be a bad dad, “To think how many people you’ve saved Dean, how many times you’ve put my life- Sammy’s life in front of your own, that shows me that you are a better man,”.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, “I think you would make an amazing father, you’ve already raised an amazing man, I know you could do it again,”. You wrapped your arms around him, kneeling on either side of his legs as you laid your head in the crook of his neck.

Moments passed, Dean hugged you back, his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you so tight you could almost feel his love wrap consume you.

“Let’s give it a go then,” He whispered, bringing you forward to look into your eyes, “I want you to have everything, Baby. I want you to be a mom and I can try- for you I’ll try,”.

You hugged him again, this time a massive smile had overcome your face, the glee you felt was indescribable, “Obviously not now, I mean we’re too young- I’m only 26 and you at your ripe age of 36,” You joked as you looked into his eyes again.

He chuckled a little, before kissing you deeply, he kissed you a lot, this time it felt different. The love you felt wasn’t pink anymore it was burning red. It felt light and free. You loved this man more than anything, and he loved you. You’re dreams we’re coming true and Dean Winchester was the man that made it all fit together.

#Dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader smut #sam winchester #john winchester #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester kids #kids #family #dean winchester x reader family

[teigo-the-explorer]

Too good to be true

Anonymous Request: Maybe the reader is a university student and everyone around her is trying to woo her but they don't Sherlock is her boyfriend, so one day protective Sherlock appears and, shows them she's his.

MAIN MASTER LIST | REQS OPEN

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Major fluff, mentions of sex, Sherlock is in love with you. No use of y/n. 

“Guys, I swear on my life,” you chuckled as your finger crossed over your heart, “I’m taken.”

Your friends rolled their eyes at your declaration. 

“What?” 

“Babes,” Lucy said. “You keep telling us about this guy, yet….” She looked around the bar that your friend group was drinking at. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s just…” You began. 

“Married to his work. We know.” Miri said. She took a big swallow of her martini. “Well, I’m off to get another round.”

She quickly excused herself from the table and walked over to the bar. 

You sighed. It wasn’t your’s or Sherlock’s fault that there was a new serial killer in town. This one seemed to evade your boyfriend’s and John’s attempts of catching him at every turn. You your friends. knew what stakes his job had, including late nights and missed opportunities to introduce him to 

Lucy called your name. “You don’t have to keep lying just because all of us are taken. I promise, as your friends, we won’t judge you.”

To this, you rolled your eyes. When were your friends going to understand you were taken? 

“Plus,” Lucy continued. “I’ve heard that Garreth has an eye for you.”

You snickered. “Garreth, the heartthrob of our year. I call bullshit.”

Lucy nudged you on the shoulder. “Is it bullshit that he’s been staring at you this entire time we’ve been here?” Lucy’s grey eyes peered behind your shoulder. 

Quickly, you turned around and saw him: Garreth. His bright green eyes lit up the moment you saw him. You had to admit, he was attractive. He was tall, with curly red hair, and freckles all over his face. Not to mention, he was quite smart in all of his subjects. He flashed you a smile, one which you returned. It would have been rude not to, you thought. 

“See!” Lucy exclaimed. 

“See what?” Miri asked. Her hands were full as she juggled the new round of drinks. 

“Garreth’s been checking out, our friend here,” Lucy explained. 

“Again? He does that all the time. I swear to god that the man is in love with you,” Miri said in a teasing manner. 

“Guys,” You said sternly. “I’m taken which means I have eyes for only one person.”

“Sure,” Lucy and Miri responded at the same time. 

You took a shot. The fiery liquid traveled down your throat and spread warmth to your body. 

“Look,” Miri said. She herself took a shot of alcohol. “If we haven’t met this…”

“Genius, tall, beautiful man of a boyfriend,” Lucy finished. 

“Yeah that. If we haven’t met him by the end of the month. I’m setting you up on a date with Garreth,” Miri said sternly. 

You groaned. Your finger pinched the bridge of your nose tightly. This was going to be a long night. 

_________

It was a quarter after midnight when you walked into the doors of 221B. A bright light shone from on top of the stairs. The warm golden light could only mean one thing: Sherlock was awake. 

You smiled softly at the thought of your boyfriend, as your feet sluggish in movement carried you up the stairs. Sherlock appeared in the doorway watching your climb. It was as if he knew you were coming from a block away. He probably did. Sherlock had a way with those types of things. 

The first thing you did was envelope your boyfriend in a warm embrace. Something he gladly returned. The comfort you felt in his arms was unmatched: his heart beating underneath your ears as you rested your head against his chest, his soft hands cradling your lower back and hips pulling you taut to him, and how his head dipped to kiss the crown of your head. If you died right now, you were sure that heaven would be in Sherlock’s arms. 

The two of you stood at the top of the stairs holding each other. Your bodies swayed back and forth in a slow dance. It had been a rough day, it seemed, for the both of you. 

“Any luck with the case?” You inquired, pulling away from the hug. 

Sherlock shook his head. “Not as much as I would have liked. We’ve narrowed down the possible location of the next murder, but that’s all. He seems to have avoided our every plot to catch him.”

“You’ll solve the case and catch him. I believe in you,” you comforted. 

Sherlock smiled and whispered your name. “If only the world revolved around your belief in me, I’d have solved the case by now.” 

Then Sherlock brought his lips to yours in a gentle manner. He was savoring the kiss. It was one of the only things he cherished. Your lips could bring him out of the grey haze he often found his mind in. He loved the feeling of you flushed against him. He loved you. 

“Now,” he said with a hand on your lower back leading you into his flat, “mind telling me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you, darling.” 

An electric wave shot down your spine. Even after months together, you still weren’t used to that nickname. The things you would do to have him whispering it in your ear like a prayer. 

“You were supposed to meet my friends tonight, Sherlock.” You said. 

“I know, but Lestrade found another body and…���

“The case is important and I understand, it’s just my friends don’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” Sherlock asked. His brow raised. 

“They don’t think you’re…” Your voice grew quiet. “...real. They think I’m making you up.”

Sherlock reached out and laid his hands on your forearms, running them up and down in a comforting manner. He stepped closer. His piercing blue eyes are on you. You had his full attention. 

“They gave me a vendetta. If they haven’t met you by the end of the month, they're going to set me up with Garreth.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “Garreth? Who’s…”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Just a guy in my year. Apparently, he’s in love with me or something.” Your eyes lowered as you muttered those last words. 

Sherlock’s hands stopped tracing your arms. You could hear Sherlock’s entire body grow tense and his breath becomes slow and calculated. 

“They just need to meet me?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. 

“I’ll meet your friends. Now tell me about Garreth, it seems I need to have a word with him.” Sherlock began. 

You chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss to silence him. 

Sherlock’s mind was made up as you kissed him. He’d let Garreth know you were his. He’d make your friends into believers. If there was any truth in this corrupted world, it would be that Sherlock loved you and that he was yours and you were his. 

________

“Next class, I would have liked you all to have read chapters sixteen and seventeen,” your professor announced to the class. “These chapters are crucial for the discussion, so please come prepared. Class dismissed.”

It was as if a wave of vitality drowned the class. Students, who were moments before drooling onto the desks and their eyes closed, now shot to life. They stuffed their computers and textbooks into their backpacks. 

As you gathered your things at your desk, you noticed a shadow fall over your figure. You peered up to glance at the person. It was Sherlock. 

You looked around confused. “Why are you…” 

“Thought I’d come to visit my girlfriend and take her out to lunch. Seemed to have a break from the case for a moment,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a grin flashed across his face.

You couldn’t help but match his smile. It really was contagious. “Perfect. I know just the place to eat,” you said. “And it just so happens my friends are working there.”

There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. “Perfect indeed.” He extended his elbow out to you. You linked your arm with his and led him to the cafe for lunch.

________

“Miri, the girl’s got three more days in the month,” Lucy said. “You can’t set her up on a date with Garreth.”

“Oh, and how much do you want to bet that her boyfriend will magically turn up in those three days,” Miri shot back. Lucy sighed in defeat. “That’s what I thought…I just worry about her. She needs to go and find her person. I care about her too much. Plus, Garreth is a big sweetheart and everything she’d ever want in a man.”

“I care about her to Miri, but…” 

A bell rang from above the door. The sight left both Miri and Lucy’s eyes to bulge out of their heads. The two of them had to do a double take. Once they certified with their brains that what was in front of them was real, they couldn’t help but squeal. 

There stood their best friend, you. What the real sight was the man linked to your arm. They ran through the description you had given them of the mysterious man. 

He was tall, check.

He had a head of gorgeous dark curls, check. 

Cheekbones that could cut, check. 

Entrancing ocean blue eyes, check. 

A smile that puts the greatest celebrities to shame, check.

A gentleman, check, 

Absolutely and irrevocably in love with you, check, check, CHECK. 

“It’s him!” Lucy and Miri whispered to each other. 

“Hi, Luc and Miri,” you chirped. You lifted a hand and pointed to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.” The two women eyed you and Sherlock. They were doing a horrible job of hiding their excitement. “Sherlock, these are my best friends, Lucy and Miri.” 

Immediately the two stuck out their hands to shake Sherlock’s. 

“Damn, you have nice hands. Nice fingers as well,” Miri blurted. She sent you a wink to which your face flushed with embarrassment. 

Sherlock chuckled unsure of what to say. “Nice to finally meet you two.” He flashed your friends an awkward grin. They couldn’t help but ogle at Sherlock. 

You cleared your throat. “Can we order, or are you just going to stand there and stare at my boyfriend,” you teased. 

Now it was your friend’s turn to be embarrassed. 

“Right,” Lucy cried. “What can I get you two?”

The two of your ordered lunch and then found an open seat in the cafe. Sherlock sat with his back facing your friends, which allowed you the full view of their gawking. Miri kept winking and making sexual references with her fingers. Lucy just flashed you a thumbs-up before preparing your order. 

“Sorry about my friends,” You whispered to Sherlock. The evidence on your cheeks let Sherlock know just how embarrassed you were. 

“It’s alright,” he said in an attempt to soothe your embarrassment. 

Again the bell above the door rang long and clear. In stepped Garreth. He had his backpack swung over his shoulder and a witty smile adorning his face. 

“Afternoon, ladies!” He greeted Lucy and Miri. 

“Hey there Garreth,” Miri replied as she winked at him. 

Sherlock’s ears perked up. He turned to look at you. “Garreth?” 

You looked over to the man who just entered the cafe and then back at Sherlock. Your boyfriend had a look on his face. A wave of butterflies was released into your stomach. Sherlock raised his brow up and had a smirk on his face. 

As Garreth noticed your presence and uttered your name, Sherlock grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and yanked you to him. His lips met yours in a possessive kiss. It was strong and secure and much brasher than you were used to receiving from Sherlock in public. The man tended to stick to more subtle ways of showing others that you were his: a hand around your waist, his figure standing not far from yours, a glare to anyone who dare look your way as if their eyes didn’t deserve to see you in all your glory. 

As Sherlock slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing alongside yours, Lucy and Miri gasped. You could just imagine the look on their faces. You did tell them he was a good kisser after all and now they just got front-row seats to the show. 

You had to pull back from Sherlock. Your breath was heavy as your lungs remembered what it was like to breathe. From the looks of it, Sherlock would have kept kissing you until he passed out and you’d let him. You let out a giggle seeing your friend’s amazed faces. Sherlock pecked your cheek lightly as a small reminder. 

“Someone’s jealous…,” You giggled. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m just letting the world know what’s mine,” he said in a low voice only you could hear. 

“Well, from what I could tell, you’ve only shown three people. If you want to show the whole world, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” you winked. 

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a good thing I like kissing you among other things.” There was a suggestive look in his eyes. 

You gasped slightly and hit him on the shoulder. “My friends are right behind you Sherlock.”

“I know.” 

You rolled your eyes as Sherlock turned around and asked your friends to take lunch to go. He explained that he needed you for the afternoon. Lucy and Miri played along and quickly finished your order. They shoved in your hands and pushed you out the door whispering words of playful encouragement. 

“You scored the lottery,” Lucy whispered to you. 

You smiled and looked at Sherlock. You really did. Sherlock was everything you could ask for and more. 

Once again, the two of you linked your arms together and scurried back to Baker Street. Your takeout left on the counter was forgotten. Unlike that afternoon, when Sherlock showed the world again and again that he was yours and you were his.

_____

Tag List: @bartokthealbinobat @astudyinlaura

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#sherlock BBC #bbc!Sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlockbbc #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock #sherlock fanfic #jealous sherlock #sherlock fluff #reader #sherlock reader insert #reader insert #no use of y/n #benedict cumberbatch #benedict!sherlock #your friends don't think you have a boyfriend #Sherlock proves them wrong #I AM SHERLOCKED #fanfic #Fanfic writer #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes imagine #William sherlock scott holmes #reqs open #sherlock request

[fangirl-writes]

Sick Day

JJ Maybank x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Sickness, fever.

Request:

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write jj maybank x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish, like they always jump from excitement and love weird things. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and jj take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please.

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you.

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

Notes: JJ would absolutely listen to Arctic Monkeys don't @ me.

"But JJ," you whined as he carried you into your house.

"No buts, Y/N, you can't put other shit above yourself. You're sick and you're going to be sick until you get better."

You pouted, burying your head in his shoulder. "But what if you get sick?"

"Don't worry about that, I literally never get sick. It's like some superpower I have," he replied, walking towards your bedroom. "One time John B. got the flu, like shit from both ends bad flu, and I spent the whole day with him anyway and never got sick."

"But you're gonna miss a pogue day off..."

"I think I'm willing to sacrifice one day just for you,"

A blush spread across your cheeks and you said, "...thanks."

You'd woken up feeling like shit, with a fever and an aching body, but you were never one to let anything bring you down so you popped some Tylenol and went on your way.

But the pogues knew something was wrong right away because you were usually the life of the party, bouncing uncontrollably all the way down the dock and talking animatedly about whatever it was that had piqued your interest that day.

But not today.

Today you were relatively silent, refusing a beer and a puff of JJ's blunt.

You'd had off days before, they all did, so none of them pushed you to tell them what was up.

Until you stood up too fast and nearly fainted.

Thankfully, JJ intercepted your body before it could hit the water and laid you down on the floor of the boat. Everyone fanned your face and Kie pressed a cool water bottle to your forehead.

"Y/N, you're burning up," she said. "I think you have a fever."

"What?" JJ said. "Seriously?"

You couldn't help but cry a little bit at the statement, the concern in everyone's eyes making you feel worse.

Which JJ could tell. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What? No-" you sat up quickly - too quickly- and had to catch yourself before you fell back. "Seriously, don't let me ruin your day, I can walk home."

"Y/N, you can barely sit up, let JJ take you home," Pope said.

"No, come on, he probably doesn't want to be around me anyway. You'd much rather stay here and drink and smoke with the pogues, right?"

JJ was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at you before he leaned over, grabbed your wrist and hip, threw you over his shoulder and hopped up onto the deck with ease.

"JJ!" You protested, but he'd trapped you. You had no escape in this position.

"See you guys later," JJ said, throwing a peace sign to his friends with his free hand before continuing his trek towards your house.

"JJ!" You tried again, pounding against his back. "Put me down!"

He swung you around, making you shout, but he didn't put you down, simply holding you bridal style instead.

You must've turned green because he winced. "Sorry."

Eyes squeezed shut, you said, "It's fine. You should really put me down though."

"Nope."

A few minutes of bickering later and well-

"Here we are," JJ said, setting you down carefully on your bed.

Having resigned yourself to sickness at this point, you immediately crawled under the covers and groaned.

JJ chuckled, running a hand over your forehead. "You really are burning up. I'm gonna go get you some water."

"J-"

"I'll be right back," He said, smiling at you as you looked up at him.

He pulled a water bottle from the fridge and the bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet before heading back to your room.

Your eyes were still open when he came back.

"What?"

"Nothing," you replied, smiling weakly. "Just never saw you as the nurse type."

"Never had any sexy dreams about me in a nurse's uniform?" he joked.

"You wish."

Instead of replying, JJ set down the water and Tylenol on your bedside table and picked up the thermometer that was already there.

"You had a fever before and you still came?"

You groaned. "Don't lecture me."

He didn't but he still stuck the thermometer in your mouth.

"101, wow," he said. "You are sick. And you definitely need to sleep."

You tossed your head against your pillow. How were you supposed to sleep in the middle of the afternoon with the sun shining right in your window?

Then an idea struck you.

JJ looked up from where he was surveying the thermometer and noticed your gaze. "...What?"

You made grabby hands at him. "Cuddle me?"

He shook his head. "You're sick."

"What happened to all that bravado about not ever getting sick?"

"I mean you need to sleep."

"I'll sleep better if you're with me," you replied.

He rolled his eyes but joined you in your bed anyway. "If you wanted me in your bed, you didn't have to get sick to do it."

"Shut up," you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms with your head against his chest. "You know you've always wanted to be here, too."

He hoped his heart wasn't hammering too hard with you so close. "Maybe so."

You sighed, face scrunched up as you tried to will yourself to sleep.

JJ bit his lip.

His mother always used to sing him lullabies when he was sick as a kid. Course that was before she left.

Still, maybe he could turn that painful memory into a good one.

He started humming softly, just loud enough for you to hear, and raking his fingers through your hair.

"You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours," he sang softly.

Sure he wasn't the most musically gifted person, but he could hold a tune and the way you snuggled further into him told him you were enjoying the serenade.

"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."

Forgetting the other words, he returned to humming.

You were so beautiful, lying in his arms, half-asleep. Even sick, you were one of the most beautiful people JJ had ever seen.

"I just wanna be yours," he sang one last time, assuming you'd be asleep by now.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went to get up but you tightened your hold.

"Don't leave," You whispered sleepily, almost slurring. "I wanna be yours, too..."

A little stunned, JJ slunk back into his former position, holding you close. "Really?"

You hummed, nodding.

JJ absolutely got your fever the next day but he'd claim it was worth it to hear you sing the same song back at him and to kiss you whenever he wanted.

#outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine

[simpforboys]

just thinking about you

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

summary: seeing your ex happy with someone else doesn’t feel great, but when you’ve both moved on, you come to terms.

warnings: angst, lovers to acquaintances, they still love each other, swearing, right person wrong time trope

i think this is the prettiest piece i’ve ever written, so lmk what you think!

based on little freak by harry styles

the guilty feeling that resided deep in your stomach as you changed into a sundress was something you couldn’t shake.

the dress was navy blue as you wore a gold necklace, strapped sandals on your feet as you slipped on your bracelets.

mr and mrs carrera had invited you and your family to celebrate the anniversary of the wreck.

a nice boy named hunter had asked if you wanted to go with him, and you reluctantly accepted.

he was tall, brunette, with a big nose, so surely you were attracted to him, right?

but then why did you feel underlying guilt?

you hadn’t seen sarah, kiara, or any of the pogues in awhile. so when you walked into the party on hunter’s arm, sarah and kiara quickly ran over to you.

“i missed you so much.” they whispered in your ear, hugging you tightly.

“you need to tell me everything. where did you guys go? i thought you died.” you joked.

kiara’s eyes left you and looked at hunter. the man licked his lips nervously, taking his arm out of yours.

“i’ll be over there.” hunter dismissed himself to where topper was.

“why are you here with him?” kiara asked, disgust written on her face.

“he asked me,” you shrugged.

“jj isn’t going to like that.” sarah raised her eyebrows.

“jj and i are broken up. we have been for awhile.” your voice was laced with sadness as you grabbed a shot from a caterer.

sarah and kiara shared a look.

“now, you two better get talking.”

➽─────────────────❥

as the night went on you found yourself trying to avoid hunter, much like how sarah was avoiding topper.

“i shouldn’t have came here with him-“

you were cut off by kie kicking your shin. you turned around to see hunter approaching, his green eyes glowing in the lantern light.

“wanna dance?” he asked.

you bit the inside of your cheek, already on your fourth shot. you nodded, taking his hand as you felt sarah and kiara’s eyes on you.

“she’s so fucked,” kiara whispered to sarah.

you put your arms around hunter’s waist, closing your eyes as you leaned against his shoulder.

he smelt like louis vutton cologne, much different from jj’s infinity cologne he swiped from a store.

hunter’s hands were placed on your hips, the skin softer than jj’s calloused ones.

and as you swayed with hunter, your mind played dangerous tricks as you imagined it was jj with you. a tear trickled down your cheek.

a relationship that was taken too fast by stupid teenagers trapped in a world of danger, they missed the little things.

the little things that induced happiness instead of sorrow, gave life to death, light to dark.

you were always so bright, seeing the good in things that were pure evil to jj. your delicate view on things made him change perspective, and it was one of the things he loved about you.

and jj’s world went dark as he saw you leaning on hunter. his heart shattered in his chest, but in true jj fashion, he tried to push it aside and focus on the mission.

you were so trapped in your imagination, you didn’t notice john b had shown up to the party until you felt hunter pull you aside quickly.

“no hard feelings, bro.” you saw topper say to the man who tried to leave.

your gaze narrowed as john b turned around, punching topper in the nose. the cracking noise that was heard made chills run down your body as topper laid out cold on the wooden floor.

hunter went to pull john b off of topper, but jj was quick to push hunter back.

“don’t touch him!” he shouted, anger coursing in his veins. first, hunter had touched you, jj’s world. then, he touched his best friend. it took everything in him not to beat the man’s face in.

“get out!” mike shouted.

jj shrugged mike off as he grabbed john b from topper, your heart pounding in your chest.

the next second happened too quick as jj turned around, punching hunter in the jaw.

you gasped, hand over your mouth as jj looked at you. your normal glowing self was dim, eyes glazed with tears. all jj wanted to do was run over and scoop you up and promise you everything would be alright, but he couldn’t.

jj and john b walked on the dock as you ran over to where sarah was, tears pouring from her eyes as john b stared back at her.

you hadn’t noticed your lip trembling until a tear dropped off your cheek and onto your chest.

and jj never stopped looking at you until the boat left the dock and you became out of sight.

the devastated look on your face burned into his memory, connecting with the one he left you with the night he broke up with you.

the look he thought about every day, never wanting to see you so broken ever again. and maybe that’s why jj left, because he knew he would only break you until you were left shattered like him.

he didn't want you to waste your life on him, a pogue with nothing, while you had everything. he just never realized that your everything was him, and you never knew until you were left with the mere memory of his touch, thoughts, and self.

jj wiped away the tears from his eyes as he clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning purple as he observed the color.

“what the fuck are we doing with our lives, john b?”

and as you stood on the dock under the moonlight, the guilt you had felt all night finally coming to light, you stared out into the water. you stood where the they had tied their boat, ready to leave out on another great adventure.

the realization that at the end of the day, you didn't belong to him anymore, and he was off seeing the world on a quest that left you stuck on kildare.

all you could do was think of him, the legacy he had on your life, and hope that one day, he'll come back to you.

#simpforboys #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx3 #obx #outer banks #outer banks 1 #outer banks 2 #outer banks 3 #jj outer banks #jj obx fic #jj obx imagine #outer banks netflix #jj maybank angst #rudy pankow #i cried writing this ngl

[charliehoennam]

home again.

A/N: request made here by @juniebugg and a nonny made here so i decided to mash these two together

Pairing: John Kinley x F!reader

Warnings: Language and smut. No minors, please!

Word count: 2,675

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The dusty gravel of your driveway crunched under the tires of Declan’s truck. You didn’t need to look out the window to know who it was, but you wanted to see him. Make sure he’s alright.

You’d refused to pick John up at the military base. You didn’t want to be anywhere near it. It’d been months since he’d been away and you hated every single second he was gone.

You missed him more than anything in the world. Deep inside, you were thrilled he was finally home and, most importantly, safe. Part of you wanted to race out the door and throw yourself in his arms. The other part, however, wanted to slap him across the face.

Months of his absence – provided only via letters and shitty connections through phone calls or video chats that could never replace his presence – drove you insane.

The only thing that was worse was zero contact. Not knowing if he was dead or alive; that every car that drove by the house would deliver that dreaded folded flag. Sometimes, you questioned why he would want to be in the army in the first place, fighting a war that he has no fault in. How could he just leave you?

You’d thought it would get easier to live with after you got married. Turned out, it wasn’t.

John called out for you and spotted you by the window where he’d caught you staring out of just before you moved away to hide. He read your resistance right off the bat.

“Hey, honey” he smiled as he set his army green bag on the floor in the hallway. “Don’t I get a kiss huh?”He tried to joke to loosen you up.

There was definitely tension in the air that he’d detected even before walking in, but he wanted to avoid conflict on his first day home. He’d missed you just as much as you’d missed him; there was no doubt the distance was hard on both sides. Yet you felt he was to blame since it was his choice to reenlist. You were there. You’d always be there.

You pulled away as he tried to pull you into his arms and marched back into the kitchen where you’d been making his favorite: Fettucine alfredo with crispy bits of Italian sausage. 

“Something smells real good.” His attempts were getting nowhere. “Come on, baby. Is this how it’s gonna be every time I come home?”

“You could just stay home.” You shrugged as you continued stirring the pot of white sauce before dipping a spoon to taste-test the flavor.

“We’re really gonna do this? Again?” He scoffed running a hand over his tired face.

“Do you really expect me to be all bright smiles when you were literally gone for 9 months in the middle of God knows where? After 11 days of sheer silence, I just found 6 days ago that you weren’t dead, John.”

“I thought that would be something to be happy about.” His brows furrowed.

“I am happy you’re alive, John. But I did also spend 11 days thinking you might have been dead!”

“That wasn’t my fault! We got ambushed by an IED in the middle of nowhere. We lost the RV and had to trek through the goddamn desert. You think I wanted that happen?!”

“Then you shouldn’t have relisted! I just don’t get it! Why would you want to go back to that?!”

“You don’t have to get anything! You’re acting like this is all new to you! You knew I was in the Army before, that it wouldn’t change when we got married!”

“Maybe I’d hope it would! So crucify me for thinking that maybe my husband would want to actually be home with me after getting married!” 

Your argument only escalated after that. John was angry and you were furious. A blur of loud voices, searing tears and fists pounding on walls and countertops. At some point, he had decided to blow off some steam and slammed the front door shut as he left to have a drink at the bar. He didn’t want to get drunk or talk to anybody. He just wanted to get out of there before you’d both said things that couldn’t be taken back.

Sat on a tall stool with a beer bottle cradled in his hands, he stared into nothingness wanting to forget everything. However, his mind found itself returning to you. To your scent that lingered on his clothes after his hug. To your warmth against his chest and arms. Fuck, he missed you badly and he hated that he couldn’t fucking forget it.

After pushing himself off the stool, he drove home in silence and cautiously stepped over the threshold. His eyes scanned the house as he made his way in, searching for any indication that could explain your current state. But he found only silence. A daunting calmness in the shadows of the home as the streets casted their lights in attempt to chase the gloom. But when his eyes landed on a pillow stacked upon of a folded-up blanket, he shook his head and ignored your punishment.

That was his limit. The final drop to overflow the flood he’d spent hours trying to contain.

You tossed and turned in bed, wondering if you had gone too far. You reflected on his words. He wasn’t wrong. You knew the Army was important to him going into the relationship. You knew that when you said yes when he asked you to marry him. You knew that when you said “I do” at the altar.

He felt his blood boil again as he marched up the stairs with his pillow under his arm. The door flew up open and he strode into the room, avoiding your bewildered gaze as you propped yourself up on your elbow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You questioned angrily. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“The hell I am. I spent nine months away. I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

You could hear the tinge of impatience in his voice. He sat at the edge of his side on the bed to untie his boots and set them aside with a thud muffled by the carpet.

“You’re not sleeping here, John.”

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, but I’m sleeping right here.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”

“Oh, I am huh? How about you? You’re the one that’s acting like a fucking child.”

You sat up in disbelief, ready for round two of your argument.

“Just don’t. I’m tired and I wanna sleep.” He stated as he laid back against his pillow, back turned to you.

“You think it’s fucking easy? You think it’s easy having you miles away, with no notice if you’re even alive? I thought you were dead, John!”

He was ready to snap back with his defense, but the tears building in your eyes warned him not to. Instead, his jaw clenched as he held his gaze on you.

“I spent night crying my fucking eyes out thinking you weren’t coming home this time! Just to get up the next day and pretend like everything was alright! Do you know how emotionally exhausting this has been for me?!”

He hadn’t thought about that. Guilt settled in his chest and started to build in his throat as he listened to your rant, which soon brought you to sob.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m home…” he whispered pulling you into his strong arms, wrapping them around you.

Any resistance you had melted away against his warmth. You gave in and buried your face into his neck.

“I’m home. I’m with you and everything’s alright. Everything’s alright now.” he repeated as he soothed you with gentle kisses on the crown of your head. His palm rubbed circles against your back.

Your body was yearning for him. He could tell from the way your nails clung onto his shirt. His fingers lifted your chin to catch your gaze.

“Look at me. I’m right here. I’m with you and I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he whispered with a thumb wiping your tears away.

“I got you, hm?”

Sealing his promise with a kiss, your body softened and accepted his kiss. Then his tongue. You could feel it building in your core. That familiar lust that had haunted you during his absence. That craving that couldn’t be quenched.

Like magnets, your bodies had lost against the invisible pull. His hands slipped down to your thighs, guiding them as you straddled his lap.  The heated kiss was unbroken until your hands tugged at his olive-green shirt to release it from the tuck of his camouflaged pants. You helped him pull it off over his head as he helped you remove the Pink Floyd t-shirt that once belonged to him before becoming your favorite nightgown.

 As your lips collided once again – more feverish than before –, your hands roamed down to unbuckle his belt. The metal clinked as it hit the floor. John wasted no time to lay you down against the mattress. You needed him and there he finally was to take care of you. God, how he’d missed your taste.

He whispered continuous praises as his bushy beard brushed against your delicate skin, peppering kisses down to your breasts. His mouth closed around your hardening nipples, suckling them with eyes closed to relish their fullness and warmth.

“My beautiful wife. Missed you so fucking much.”

His hand kneaded each of them as he squeezed your flesh to his face. He could’ve stayed there forever, but he was eager to please you.

He forced himself up as he stood back on his knees, sat against his heels. His gaze on you was loving as if admiring a sculpture he’d carved from his own dreams. “I love you” fell from his lips over and over again, like a prayer in between the tender kisses he pressed against your legs, lifting them to rest against his broad shoulders. He hooked his fingers into your panties and slid them up your legs and tosses them to the floor. His eyes locked on yours was more than enough to cause your core to puddle. You could feel the slick building with every kiss.

He wasted no time settling between your thighs, trailing his kisses over your outer labia. This was about making you feel good. Making it sink into your brain that he was finally fucking home.

With your legs bent up over his shoulders, he moaned as he buried his mouth against your plush slick flush. One hand slid up to your breast as the other locked its fingers with your own. You moaned and wiggled against him.

He devoured you and smiled to himself as he watched the way your body arched in pleasure. The salty sweet taste of you liquefied his insides. He could feel him twitching as his cock hardened on the bed. After months of bottling in all his desires and having to satisfy himself with his hand and a photo of you in lingerie, his thirst for you was erupting beyond control. He had to remind himself that this was going to be about you.

His hips began rocking against the bed at the sounds your body was making. He was so eager to fuck you, but he had to contain himself to make it last. Yet his hunger for you had his hips grinding against the mattress, aching for any type of friction he could get as he battled with his self-control. His cock spasmed in his pants with every gentle tug on his hair or scrape of your nails on his scalp.  

With his tongue building up your orgasm, it lapped over your folds and concentrated on the overly sensitive nub. He swiped and swiveled over it; the pressure in your depths grew into hot white pleasure. You weren’t going to last much longer.

The hand on your breast slid down your scorching skin to hold your hips firmly in place as you wriggled, wrestling against the implosion and failing terrible to resist until you finally caved in. Your body trembled as your legs shut on either side of his head. He smiled as he proudly admired your reaction, enjoying how quickly your chest rose and fell. The leaking precum from his dick was beginning to sink through his boxers and pants; he was almost certain he’d left a wet spot on the bedsheet.

He lifted himself off and was unable to wait any longer. He needed to feel you on his cock. Kicking his pants off provided you a moment to regain yourself and admired the way his muscles contracted under his skin. This big burly man was yours, all yours.

As he crawled back between your legs and aligned himself to penetrate, you both watched his head slowly push in through your soaking pussy in burning anticipation lathered with only the spit on his fingertips.

His eyes closed tightly shut as he bottomed out and held himself there for a moment, controlling his own increasing implosion.

You could tell he was struggling a bit between satisfying you both and giving into his own carnal needs. You cradled the sides of his face and gently guided him down to kiss him in an attempt to distract him from the wonderful hug of your cunt on his cock.

With an arm propped on the side of your head, he kissed you hungrily as his hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh and pushed your hips against his. His groin brushing on your swollen nub sent fireworks bursting through your nerves, forcing a shy moan from your throat. He smiled and pulled his head back to look down at you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As his lips latched onto your neck, his hips pulled back and slowly thrusted forward to begin his pace. Slow and gentle, but so deliciously full and stretched. You held your breath with every push and pull of his cock, clenching around it to hold him inside. You’d never let him go if you could. His cock in you made you feel so completed like this is where you both were meant to be.

His pace started to quicken. A sheen coat of sweat glazed your bodies in the cool blue light of the moon that rained in from the tall windows of your bedroom. The searing heat had begun to bubble from the inside out, oozing from your desperate desire to feel each other deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed out the open door and into the hallway. His balls slammed against your perineum as your wetness began coating the bedsheet underneath, staining it with remnants of love and lust.

With labored breaths, he hugged you tightly against him with his other arm. It was building up in you for the second time and you could tell it was building in him as well. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your toes curled against his hips. The tight embrace of your pussy as you came again had him frantically hammering into you as praises flooded out from his lips.

“Feel so fucking good for me. I-I fucking love you, baby. L-love you so much.”

Releasing you to lock your fingers together, he shuddered with a deep moan and slowed to a stop. You milked every drop. The hot load filled you with an incomparable warmth in your depths. Your walls were coated in his pearly white seed.

He panted as he held himself in your cunt for a moment longer until he finally pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him. His hands reached out for you and pulled you into his arms. Perfectly nestled against his hairy chest, you smiled to yourself. His heart beating against your ear was the final reminder that he was home. He was here and he was all yours.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #john kinley x you #john kinley x reader #john kinley x y/n #john kinley the covenant

[beastofburdenxo]

Tommy request where he disregards her for grace and then when the thrill of it ends he ends up regretting BUT she’s focused on helping john and reader is just so cute and caring with johns kids and john is wanting to marry her being all like “this makes sense, she and i are the same age, best friends for like YEARS now, it all fits” and Polly’s all like “cute but tommy will skin you alive” and instead of groveling tommy turns dark and is all like “you want your little shelby babies? then okay I, and only I, will give it to love” please and thank u xxx

Damn alright here we go......

Little Green Monster

After choosing Grace over you, Tommy begins to realize he messed up when you start spending time with his brother John. Tags: dark! Tommy, p in v, unprotected sex, language, multiple orgasms, slight stalking, breeding kink

Tommy chose Grace Over you And at first it really did hurt your feelings. You loved Tommy and You thought that he loved you too. Then, unexpectedly, John came into your life, and he made the pain more bearable. He needed help with all of his kids, and you had nothing else to do. The two of you grew close in time, John thinking that perhaps Tommy leaving you was a good thing. He needed a woman like you, and you were always so good and sweet to his kids.

"I think I want to marry her, Pol." John confessed to Polly. "She's just so wonderful, I don't see how Tommy could have possibly left her." Polly put down her cup of tea with a serious look on her face. "I agree John, she is lovely, but Tommy will skin you alive if he hears of your intentions. Regardless of who he chose, that little green monster will always be on his back. I do believe he regrets his decision. This whole thing will make Tommy go crazy and do something he shouldn't." John rolls his eyes, "I believe I can handle my own brother, Pol. He broke her heart! I fixed it! He can fuck right off! We are best friends, we'd be perfect married!" Tommy was in the other room and heard every word. Oh, little green monster indeed.

Tommy knew your routine and waited for you to be alone at the end of the day to say anything. He stood in the shadows outside your house, waiting for John to leave. John finally made his way home, a smirk on his face. Tommy quietly opened the door, sneaking his way in your house. "John? You forget something?" You turned around to find Tommy at your bedroom door. "Excuse you, Tommy!" Quickly wrapping yourself up in your silk robe. "What in the hell are you doing here? You can't just-" Tommy cut you off by closing the distance and pulling you into a searing kiss.

You push Tommy away with a slap. "How dare you, Tommy! I am John's girl now. You left me for Grace, so go be with her and leave me be!" Tommy grabs you and holds you up against the wall. "You know I can't do that now. You are not John's, you will always be mine and you know it. He wants to marry you and fill you up with his babies, but over my dead body, love. Deep down, you know you want my babies. You know you miss me." You can feel how hard Tommy is right now, and you will the butterflies to leave your stomach. "You know you miss me, love, especially at night. You miss me being buried inside you, clinging to me for dear life, eh? I've been the only man that could make you come, isn't that right?" Tommy purrs in your ear.

A sudden flash of anger comes across at his arrogance. "Fuck you!" Tommy just chuckles and throws you on the bed "Oh I will, love. That I will do. I've missed you so much." You try and fight him, but Tommy is much stronger, and part of you doesn't want to fight much to your disgust. His big, strong hands make their way up your legs and under your nightgown. Tommy finds what he is looking for with a pleased smile. "Well, well. Seems like you've missed me too, eh love? So wet as always for me. My good girl." He quickly undresses himself, ready to be inside you.

He pulls your legs apart and dives inside with no warning. Your back arches at the sudden intrusion. Fighting the moan that is trying to escape your mouth. Tommy growls at how well you take him. "Even your body remembers me, love. Don't you see? You are mine. All mine. Nothing compares to you, love, and I'm sorry it had to be this way. Don't fight this, sweetheart. You know it's right. I belong here. You belong underneath me." Tommy knows just how to move to get your brain to switch off. You want to say so much, but your brain won't will your mouth to move. With a particular movement of his hips, you cry out and dig your nails in his back.

"Oh, there she is, there's my girl." Tommy moans. "I know what you like, don't I? John sure as hell doesn't. Only I can get you to feel this good. Only I can get you to soak these sheets. My girl. Mine. You want shelby babies? I'll give you as many as you want. I'll keep you full and satisfied. I'll fill you till you overflow. Whenever you want it. You. Are. Mine. To. Fill." Tommy thrusts hard with every word to make his point, and the sound of his deep voice in your ear causes you to lose control and come all over him.

"Good girl. There you go. Take what you need. You've been without me too long. Well, that's over. I've got you now, don't I?" Tommy kisses you again. "Look at you all fucked out and at peace. Just how it should be. I'm gonna come so hard inside you, love. Are you ready?" All you can do is nod weakly as his confession causes you to squeeze him again. "I'll never leave you again, I promise." With one final thrust, Tommy releases inside you, the warmth causing another orgasm to escape from you. You lay there with Tommy, full and satisfied, just like he said you'd be.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #daddy