character---obsessed

Latest Posts by character---obsessed

my true love

saw this on tt and thought I'd share here cause it's sweet

THE AMOUNT OF TIME I SPENT LOOKING FOR THIS FIC IS INSANE

AND IT NEVER DISAPPOINTS

Honestly I'd die for any alfie x reader x Tommy smut... but I'd love a part 2 of your last wife!reader fic❤❤

Thank you for the request! Sorry this took so long! Kept second guessing my self. I really struggled with this one, but I think it turned out okay.

Hope you enjoy! XO

Warnings: Sex! Anal, vaginal, people in a room having & watching sex, Reader is put in distressing situation, Alfie to the rescue, Reader cries & has a bit of a tantrum.

Part one: https://padfootdaredmetoo.tumblr.com/post/667627654991790080/can-you-write-something-with-possessive-tommy-and

Russians were insane. Really fucking insane. Tommy had dragged you into this madhouse. First they stripped you down naked and looked you over for tattoos.

Your face had never been redder, standing in front of these ladies. The fact that Tommy sat on the desk, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, eyes ravishing your naked form only made it much worse.

Their eyes were cold, and you knew that they were probably trying to find something about your body to be nasty about. But they kept their mouths shut, despite the feeling you got from their gaze.

You redressed quickly, happy to be standing next to your husband. He placed his hand on your low back, to steady you.

Then they dragged you away from him.

They said this was going to be a dinner, meet his wife, then some trip into a special cellar to look at some jewels, easy in and easy out. Home by 9. He warned you that it would be strange, but to stay close to him and it would be alright. But now they are separating you.

But things never went easy with Tommy. Life put him through the worst, and now he was dragging you along at his side. Not that you cared. You wanted to be at his side no matter where he went or how bad things got.

But this. This was bad.

“I will take you through to the party, we can drink while they talk business.” The woman strutted into the room in her undergarments, prouder than anyone you had ever seen before. Your whole body tensed up, you looked up to Tommy. His eyes were dark, but the message was clear as day. Obey.

The room seemed to think it was amusing that I would look to my husband for permission.

You didn’t want to go anywhere without him. Every cell in your body burned with warning, this was very bad.

You let the woman snake her arm in yours and you moved away from Tommy, from any kind of sanity.

The room was dimly lit, and were people engaged in all sorts of sexual acts. The room was heavy with smoke and booze. The inescapable smell of sex, make your throat close up.

What the absolute fuck were you supposed to do.

The tall woman sat you on the couch and handed you a fresh bottle of vodka.

“Thank you” You said absently, still in shock of what your eyes were seeing. You took a sip of the fiery liquid and let it burn your throat, all this to be polite. But how much was going to be asked of you? You scanned the room, men and women looked at you with the eyes of wolves. Suddenly everyone was desperate to squash that innocence and obvious aversion out of you.

A man came over, he didn't speak but sat next to you. You gave him a little nod having another mouthful of the clear liquid, he wasn’t here to drink together though. His thick fingers ran down the side of your face and down your neck. Your body involuntarily started to shake. You were repulsed by this sex, in honesty you’d dreamed up parties like this in your naughty head. But being forced into one with no notice, alone, was enough to almost push your body into shock. Your mind started to race, how the fuck were you going to fight your way out of here?

Another sip. And your prayers were answered, well sort of…

“Fuck sakes. This just ain't right mate. Nothing sacred about this, fucking feral.” A familiar voice boomed. He surveyed the room and then his eyes landed on you, all the humor left his composure as he took in the situation, and the terrified look on your face.

Fire flashed in his eyes, a dark possessiveness moved across his face like a storm rolling across the sea.

A woman approached him with a bottle, but his face told her where she could stick it, she fluttered past him as if it hadn't happened. The people in the room surveyed him as he made his way across the room towards you. He was huge, by far the biggest person in the room.

“Now what little bird do we have here, eh?” He awkwardly put his bulky frame between you and the man, making him get up and leave. He put his thick arm around your shoulders and you slid into his hulking frame. “You're definitely not what I expected, love” He took the bottle from your slender fingers and placed it on the side table.

One of the men barked something at you in Russian causing you to grab Alfie’s leg. He only barked something back, his voice booming.

“You speak Russian?” You whispered, unable to release your grip on his leg.

“Me mum, because of my mum.” His voice was tense and his eyes stayed focused on the man who had shouted at you.

“What are they saying about me?”

“Things only I should say to you.” He whispered in your ear.

The flush covering your face darkened, a sudden tension making itself known between your legs. You had pressed every bit of yourself against him as humanly possible without climbing into his lap. He could feel the fear radiating off of you, and the other stuff too probably.

“You want to give them a show then? I couldn't give a single fuck about what they want. But I do want you.” His words made you think back to that night in London, a heat spread through your whole body. Without a word you hitched your dress up and straddle his thick thighs.

You loved the way your body pressed up against his. Your back was turned to the room, but you had a deep trust in Alfie. He’d brought you a safety that allowed the vodka to flow in your veins. Everything relaxed as you focused in on his touch. His broad, strong hands ran up your back.

“Missed this, I did.” He murmured, placing kisses up your neck. The room seemed to be consumed with the two of you. You wanted to know why, but the intoxication kept shame and worry far from your body.

He finally kissed your lips, drinking you in. You let out a loud moan as his large hand came up to roughly palm your left breast.

His other hand made its way home between your legs. Slipping under the band of your soaked panties. He worked your clit slowly, driving all thoughts of the horrible place from your mind.

His hand made its way around your throat and you fully let go. He had you now, no reason to keep yourself on this planet. Whatever happened to you that night would be at Alfie’s hand.

Once the tears welled up in your eyes and your breath became ragged, he finally dipped his fingers inside you. He slowly pushed two thick fingers into you, curling to find the right space. You threw your head back and let out a shattering moan.

All the attention was on you, but you didn't care in the slightest. If anything it turned you on more, there was a power that came from this. Whatever they thought about you, one thing was very clear. If it was booze or sex, you could easily beat them at their own game.

Drinking and fucking was something you could do all day.

No one here had pleasure like you did. This wasn’t fake or a show. What Alfie pulled from your body was raw, unhinged, the true timeless feral energy.

They wanted to be savages, but being savage was something your body was built for.

It wasn't long before you cried out in ecstasy. Body spasming around him. You wanted more though, this orgasm only left you hungry and needy. You wanted him to destroy you in front of all these people, show them what sex was supposed to look like. Tommy be damned, the anger towards him just added to the emotions you wanted to burn off using his body.

You didn't even have to explain it to him, he was equally as enraged.

His hand landed a solid blow on your ass, it made a gorgeous sound that anyone would envy.

His fingers brought you over the edge again, your bliss taken further by the growl that escaped him as he sunk his teeth into your neck. You understood that he wanted to fuck you, but wouldn't. This was already over the line for him. He didn't share. Neither did Tommy. How they managed to come apart deep inside you was still a mystery.

Or maybe it wasn't.

The way you were observed made you feel as if maybe you were just that desirable. Maybe all those years of being told you were filthy and hell bound were wrong. Perhaps you were the embodiment of something as old as time, you were a larger part of humanity then they were with their silly books and blood thirsty faith. You denied yourself nothing.

Alfie kept you satisfied without properly satisfying you. Winding you up and then letting you crash down.

Eventually your husband came through, catching your eye just as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed tight. That time it was his anger that pulled you over the edge.

__

After an awkward exchange Tommy half carried you out of the place. He struggled to keep his composure, but they didn't seem bothered that you were leaving the party. You stood on the side of the road, between their parked cars. A man that Alfie had brought, probably to look at the jewels, exchanged a few words with them, then got into his own vehicle and drove off into the night.

“I'm not going. Not unless you both go back to mine.” You announced. You were angry beyond belief, and you were going to make them both feel it.

“Fuck.” Tommy was at his breaking point, temper surging through his body.

“Alright, you're a needy little thing.” Alfie called out as he got into his car. You climbed into the passenger seat of the Bentley, but you didn’t relax until you saw Alfie follow behind in the mirror.

“What the fuck happened.”

“Well you said we were going to a dinner party. And I’m a stupid cunt for believing you. I was dragged into that… that.. Fucking mess. Men and women sizing me up. Your fucking lucky he showed up. I had no fucking choice in the matter Thomas.” Your voice broke, which only made you even more angry. You wanted to scream at him, until he was exhausted. You wanted to throw things at him until he understood what he put you through.

“I didn't know.” the set of his jaw made you know he was telling the truth. He was just as angry as you were. People weren't allowed to look at you half the time, but touch you? His blood was boiling. But all you wanted to do was yell. Yell and scream, kick and fight, until there was nothing left of you.

“They would have had to drag me out of that place in a body bag, Thomas. I wasn’t going to - I wouldn't - I don't give a fuck about you either. I wouldn't do that for me.”

The rest of the car ride home was in silence. You cried, body both exhausted from everything and painfully awake with a need that possessed you. Tommy wanted no part in any of this. The whole thing was a mess put on his plate by Churchill, and his own surprising moral compass.

You felt bad about being mad at him, you knew down to your bones that he would be dead, the business burned before he let that happen to you. But there were still waves of wrath sweeping through you.

“Do your worst. Better to get it all out then.” He announced after turning the car off. You leaned across the bench seat and kissed him softly. A moment of forgiveness, to show him that you understood the position he was in. That they had chosen to play him like that, and you didn't break, but still it was a dirty play nonetheless.

You got out of the car and stormed into the house. Throwing the doors open. Kicking off your shoes and throwing them down the hallway viscously.

__

Tommy stood at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to his house. Watches his wife throw a violent tantrum.

He didn't care about her shoes, or the crystal glasses. The stupid painting of Grace should have been thrown out years ago. He didn't care about any of those things though. He cared about her.

And they used that against him. There was a tight coil of fear in his stomach. She was a bit messed up when it came to sex. He’d never hurt her, couldn't stand to think of someone hurting her. However she’d been raised in a house that did different kinds of damage to her.

And she'd be right, if they pushed her into things in that room. He wouldn't blame her for fighting them. He knew she’d be the first one to cause a body to hit the floor. They’d kill her for it. But she wouldn't come back from that room if they left her alive anyway.

And it was all his fault. Her soft kiss was a move to show she didn't blame him, but her tears, the sounds of her sobs. That would keep him awake at night for a very long time.

Alfie squared up next to him, listening to the racket she was making. Tommy was suddenly grateful that he let the maids go home on weekends. Her voice was sharp, as she screamed, her words were the nastiest he’d ever heard. Somehow even more vicious coming from her soft body. He heard her swear, the loud crashes as she got her feelings out.

“I like it, it's a solid plan mate. Let her go up there and destroy the place. Get it all out so we can hopefully keep our cocks. Solid plan.” Tommy turned to him, watching the broad man look at the house with humor in his eyes.

“Alfie.”

“Wot”

“You're a good friend.” His voice was steady. The words weren't enough, but he hoped that he wouldn't have to say more. Alfie turned to him and met his eyes, he understood.

“You're a right bastard. Leaving her with the wolves like that. The only reason I’m not beating the absolute - shit, out of you, is because she’d have my head for it.” He took a deep breath. “But our best plan here is to team up. I’ve never seen anyone in that state before.” He shook his head, out of respect? Awe? Both?

The screaming stopped and they gave each other a nod. The idea made him uneasy, but in all truth he should be grateful to Alfie, not just for what he did earlier but also for staying to wrangle the messy aftermath.

He flicked his cigarette, and they climbed the front steps quickly.

____

Being destructive was so nice.

That fucking painting should have been thrown out the second you entered his life. The moment he saw you his life started again, reborn and blessed to have an era of his life defined by you.

You’d always hated Grace. You chucked her painting over the railing with enough force to ensure the canvas broke. Crystal glasses, drink trays, very few things had ever felt so pleasant, so freeing. You were born wound up tight, it was beaten into you, there was no escaping it in your life aside for a few precious moments.

This was almost as good as subspace.

You raged, ripping your clothes off and climbed into the shower. You only just got into the hot spray when Tommy blew the door open.

He was scared, you could see it in his eyes. You took a long swig of whiskey before handing him the bottle. He looked over your body, trying to see if you’d hurt yourself, he looked unsteady.

Alfie wasted no time, he climbed into the shower, his clothes already discarded somewhere in the mess you had created.

He steadied you, against his body and the smallest bit of relief from the disaster inside you started to spread.

“Eh, don’t get shy on us now, mate” Alfie said, how he was enjoying your chaos was beyond you. Tommy followed into the tub.

You were pressed in between their wet bodies, suddenly you had no understanding of why everyone didn't solve their problems this way. This was true bliss. Their hands fought over your curves washing you down.

Surely this was how Queens of the past lived. You felt it in your blood that this was only natural, all women should be cared for this way.

They were soft with you, which was strange but appreciated. Slowly brought you down from whatever high you’d reached. They bickered, because they couldn't help themselves, it made it easier for them.

“Can’t wash her hair like that. Washing her like she’s a dog.”

“Oi mind your bloody business.” Tommy told him off pointing a soapy finger at him.

“My business.” Alfie's hands traveled down your torso between your legs. “Suppose that’s mine now, love. You heard the man” You let out a laugh at Tommy’s sigh.

They got out of there eventually, Alfie strutting out of the bathroom in a towel yelling about something you didn’t quite understand.

“We don't have to.” You whispered to your husband as he took care to dry you down with a fluffy towel.

“We don't have to, but I have an outstanding debt to you, might as well make a dent in it tonight, eh” You grabbed his arm, about to tell that was bullshit. But he continued before you could start. “Don’t make me fucking say it, eh?” His voice was stern but his eyes were soft. He placed a kiss on your forehead and picked you up.

He tossed you on to the bed and the night’s events fully caught up with you. Alfie pulled you up onto his lap and you leaned into his warm chest. His fingers traveled between your legs and you felt him relax against the headboard. You could feel his hard length pushing in to your back,

His fingers traveled lower, your body tensed up just like last time at the strange feeling. You felt embarrassed but determined to give him what he wanted after everything that night.

This wasn't like the last time you had them both. This was slow, Alfie worked you open while Tommy laid close by stroking your clit. All the orgasms and tantrum had worn you down, the pleasure that radiated through you met no resistance in your body. You had no tension to oppose it, like floating in water. You would willingly let them bend you anyway they pleased. Your breathing started to get heavy, your legs tensing slightly, when Alfie stopped. You had lost count of how many fingers, only just that you felt full. He adjusted your position on his lap, leaning back further to bring you up his chest a bit. Then he lined himself up and you felt the wetness of his tip slowly push in past the tight ring of muscle.

Tommy’s fingers left your clit, to dive into your soppy opening. You could feel his pressure pushing your flesh into Alfie’s cock as it was slowly making its way further inside you. They reached a certain spot that caused your whole body to tense but they easily held you open.

“Be good.” Tommy said under his breath. It was incredibly hard to be well behaved in this situation. Alfie pushed himself the rest of the way in, but Tommy’s fingers stayed right on that spot slowly moving in circles. You whimpered and the tears started, these tears come from somewhere different inside you. They created an opening in your chest, like you could breathe properly for the first time in so long.

You tested the waters and wiggled a bit, raising up ever so slightly only to skink back down on him.

“That’s it love” Alfie placed a kiss to the side of your neck and you took things a bit further. Last time things were so deliciously rough. But this time every brush of skin sent electricity to your core. Your body became unbearably taught, Tommy took his fingers from you. You were in disbelief that he sat up and moved towards you, no way he would take you like this. This was a much more intimate position than last time.

But there was a dark fire in his eyes, something that prevented him from letting you take any pleasure from another man without him. He would ensure you knew that there wasn't a place on this earth or after it, where he wouldn't be there with you and he was going to make sure you felt it too. He came up on top of you, lining up with your tight hole.

He pushed inside slowly, both of them doing their best to hold back. You could see the veins pulsing in their arms as they held you inplace, the white tips of their fingers gripping your flesh. The flush across Tommy’s face contrasted with the hard look in his eyes.

Eventually they were both deep inside you, that final push left your walls fluttering. A loud moan escaped you. Tommy held you still for a long while. Eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay. You were grateful he gave you a moment to adjust, but that soon passed into desperation for more. You tried to wiggle and nudge him on, but their combined grip was too much.

“Thomas” Alfie growled. He started to move and eventually they fell into that blissful rhythm. You were hot and sweaty trapped between the two of them, but you felt so safe. Your body was falling apart in the most wonderful way.

“Fuck, darling.” Alfie tightened his grip on you. Someone's fingers made their way down your torso, circled your clit and you let out a shout. Your body was taking its own place in the delicate system, hips involuntarily moving in sync with them.

“Please” You whimpered, the pressure was becoming overwhelming and impossible to hold in.

“No” Tommy said through gritted teeth. Alfie let out a groan at his response.

“Are we really going to play dirty with her like this?” He barked. Tommy let out a sound that was almost a laugh.

“Alright baby, you think you can cum for us?” The tone of his voice was like honey.

“Yes- yes -yes” The words kept tumbling from your mouth.

“Good girl, that’s it, just like last time” Alfie whispered and your body was unhinged, muscles pulled impossibly taught.

“Cum”

Your whole body snapped, if they didn't have such a tight grip on you, you're sure that they would have been pushed out by the force of your orgasm. They fucked you through it till you were spasming and contracting, full of their seed. Both of them were breathing hard but they let you have your moment. Trapped there impossibly full.

You closed your eyes and relaxed, air finally filling your lungs at a reasonable pace.

“Come here, love” They got you untangled and Tommy pulled you up into his chest. He took you into the bathroom to help clean up. He had to do most of the work but he didn't seem bothered by it.

Just like last time you fell into a deep sleep pinned by their large bodies.

Tag list: @tommydoesntpayforsuits @misselsbells06 @kpopgirlbtssvt

Please reblog if you think that “they/them/theirs” is a valid set of pronouns.

Trying to make a point to my father.

RIP Remus Lupin. You would’ve loved saying “that sounds like a you problem”

sirius who completely screws himself over when he realises he DOES like remus because he spent so much time jokingly flirting with him he can’t work out how to get remus to understand that now he’s REALLY flirting with him

Sirius who "playfully" flirts with Remus all the time and says, "Try not to fall in love with me" but then he's the one who falls in love first.

@vsprincessdiaries

this is my blog acct. pls follow.

"Oh, you haven't read the classics..." I'VE READ THE CLASSICS

✨Dramione edition✨

Manacled by senlinyu

Rights and Wrongs by LovesBitca8

Isolation by bexchan

The Fallout by everythursday

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting

Meet Your Match by morriganmercy

Measure of a Man by inadaze22

Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites

Secrets and Masks by EmeraldSlytherin

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19

Bring Him To His Knees by musyc

The Eagle's Nest by HeartOfAspen

Dragon's Heartstrings by pinkinku

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

god tier dramione fanfics

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare {https://archiveofourown.org/works/34500952/chapters/85870804}

Isolation by bexchan {https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461513?view_full_work=true}

Rights and Wrongs series by LovesBitca8 {https://archiveofourown.org/series/1007625}

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19 {https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875939/chapters/57393508}

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm {https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/35668776?show_comments=true}

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting {https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818646/chapters/54531817}

Bring Him to His Knees by Musyc {https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481312/chapters/59089624}

Dragon’s Heartstrings by pinkinku {https://archiveofourown.org/works/46585585/chapters/117313114}

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood {https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053894/chapters/50081633}

Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites {https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137807/chapters/68944698}

All You Want by senlinyu {https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153092/chapters/35140268}

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach {https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156101/chapters/18691246}

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon {https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821571/chapters/39485710}

Love and Other Misfortunes by senlinyu {https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380728/chapters/33204618}

This World or Any Other series by olivieblake {https://archiveofourown.org/series/502333}

talk ur shit

these porn ads really make my daily tumblr scrolls difficult & traumatizing asf

Afterburn

(Everyone x F! Reader)

Rating: M Wordcount: 8k Tags: Aftercare, Post-nut clarity, Praise kink, Taking a bath together, Just 6 dudes taking care of their girl after completely and utterly wrecking her A/N: ...This was supposed to be a drabble. No few regrets. My personal take on the aftermath @yeyinde 's "Body electric". Special thank you to @guyfieriii @moondirti @zwiiicnziiix @ladiilokii and many others

Summary:

It’s over.

The world around you feels dense, cryptic, laden with mysteries and vagueness as you still try to process how you ended up here. Your eyes stare up at the creaking, wooden rafters of the safehouse, vision still swimming, dried tears flaking at the corner of your gaze. Every small motion seems to roil with a discomfort that’s heavy with the aftereffects of pleasure, bleached to the bone and dull, cracking at the edges. Splayed over the table where maps and gear had been hastily shoved aside you can’t deny the chafe, the rawness that manages to soak deep into your veins.

The boys are milling around you, speaking in tired, disbelieving tones at the events of the past few hours, at how you had managed to take them, all of them at once.

It had been a blur, your memories drowning in a cacophony of slickened skin and torrid, whispered praises, or grunted pleasures and hissed curses as they all took as much as they gave. You weren’t sure who’s idea it was at first, but in the course of fucking you, of ruining you, you had surrendered completely to them, let their hands and voices guide you as you floated on an endless sea of sensation and desire. Even as they had drunk their fill of you, of your salted moans and whimpered, pleasured cries, they had been ever attentive, listening to the roll and tide of your ebbing lust, knowing exactly when to push and pull you like the ever-changing undercurrent of the ocean itself.

Now, in the aftermath you feel like you’ve been washed ashore, left there by the churning waves as fluid drips across your skin and clings there like salt.

You don’t survive this long with the 141 without your fair share of injuries. Burns, cuts, and blisters are your war medals, decorating your skin with a silent story of pride. Grenades, IEDs, the ground shattering sensation of a missile launch or the back-kick of a rifle. These things were familiar to you. Not this.

When you blink, it’s to wince at the rough chafe between your legs, the tender touch of a love bite sucked into your throat. You ache all over, and while the afterburn of pleasure still roils low in your stomach, sated and simmering with fading euphoria, the dull, insistent stretch and soreness of handling five men at once feels at once too much, too sharp, too severe.

A whimper bubbles up your throat when you try to shift, try to roll over onto your stomach with your back still braced on the harsh metal table braced against your back. Someone had been kind enough to spread a towel under you, but it’s still not enough to ease the bite of discomfort clinging to you like rose thorns.

The chatter around you ceases instantly at the sound that pours from you when you try to move. The world around you seems more like hazy, indiscernible shapes with how overstimulated your senses are, an abstract of shades and shapes that make little sense to your pleasure-addled brain. Yet even so, it’s Rudy’s face that flickers into your vision, brow still slick with sweat but scrunched with concern.

“Shh.” He hushes you, and his hand is petting your hair from your face and your eyes flutter shut under his touch. “Easy, mi Corazón.”

“How is she?”

The voice is gruff, accented, and the question itself seems more like a demand than a question, spoken with an air of unquestioning authority. Price.

“Tired.” You manage, voice tacky and stick in your dry throat as you swallow and taste bitterness there. “Sore.”

Rudy clucks at you, and the sound feels for all the world like a worried mother hen. His thumb smears a drop of flaking cum against your cheek, and the touch is tender, careful with your over exhausted state.

Except then there’s another touch, one that grasps at your hand and raises it between two calloused palms, bitten with years of duty.

“Ya did good, hen.” Soap coos, and you twist your head to see him, his eyes still glazed over but bright, warm as they regard your lidded gaze. “Did so well for us.”

You can only hum, trying and failing to find the wherewithal inside you to summon a proper response. Soap smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

“What do you need, doll?” A different voice asks, and you tilt your head to see Gaz leaning on the table next to you, one hand planted next to your shoulder as he gazes down at you. His head is tilted, eyes tracing over the mess of fluids and grime caked on your skin. There’s something that flickers across his eyes, bitter and almost guilty, and had you not been so spent you would have reached for him, murmured reassurances against the curve of his jaw.

“Water.” You mutter instead, and instantly Gaz is gone from you. Before you can try and follow him with your eyes there’s hands bracing at your shoulders, fingers spreading against your bare skin. The world shifts around you, body bent and raised up to a sitting position.

“Easy, querida.” Alejandro soothes as you let out a little whimper of discomfort when he sits you up. “Con suavidad, mm? Gently now.”

You don’t have the strength to sit up by yourself, choosing to lean heavily on him instead, body slouching and trembling. From what you aren’t sure. You’re bare as the day you were born, and though the safehouse seems a touch chilled by the evening air, the shiver in your limbs runs deeper than that, wear and overspent.

“Soap.” Alejandro speaks, and his voice is muted, quiet so as to not startle you. “A blanket.”

Soap’s footsteps fade just as Gaz draws near once again, wrapping your hands around a canteen even as your grip shakes unsteadily. When he helps you tip the flask, the water soothes mercifully over your chaffed and cracked throat, and you gulp greedily. Yet it’s too much too fast, and it only takes two deep swallows before you cough and splutter, water trickling down the corner of your lips.

“Careful.” Gaz warns, voice low as he hovers in front of you, one hand still engulfing the hand holding the canteen. “Not too fast, doll.”

Yet then you feel him pause, shift and make room for a different figure that presses closer to you, a calloused hand gently gripping your chin and tipping your head back once you’ve caught your breath. When your eyes flutter open once more, it’s to meet the vision of Captain Price, eyes grim as he faces you head on, gaze never wavering.

“How bad?” He asks, and you know that tone, firm and demanding to know what you know, for you to not lie as you convey the depth of your awareness into his.

You swallow.

“I’m fine.” You tell him, and it’s the truth. You feel the ripple of suspense, of apprehension dissipate with a sigh from the men around you, relieved yet still precariously concerned with the sight of you, shivering, exposed, and exhausted from the inside out.

“I’m just…tired.” You emphasize again, incapable of conveying much more. “…and kinda gross.”

Price nods, the motion firm. You can see him digesting the information you’ve given him, letting it simmer and ruminate as he configures his next attack like a battle-hardened soldier.

“Rodolfo.” He states, and you hear the sergeant shift somewhere behind you, standing at attention on instinct at the solid, instructive tone of the captain’s voice. “Is there a bathtub here?”

“Si.”

“Good. Go run a warm bath. Not too hot. Gaz will help.”

“Rog.” Gaz affirms, and when his touch vanishes from you it’s Alejandro who keeps your hands steady, with your shoulder still pressed to his chest and head lolling onto his collarbone. He’s murmuring soft words at you that you hardly hear, fatigue dragging at you insistently like a riptide.

“Soap.” Price summons next, eyes turning to the Scotsman who still hovers close to the three of you with the blanket he’s retrieved. “Think you can find a clean set of clothes and fresh sheets?”

Through your wobbly gaze you see Soap perk up, eyes glinting with the look of a mission driven soldier.

“Aye, cap.” He confirms and takes two large steps before he’s again vanished from your sight.

It’s only once he’s gone that Price turns back to you, his calloused hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to face him once again. You whine at that, at the way the motion reminds your body of what’s already there, tender and raw and aching.

“Easy, love.” He gentles you, and his voice rumbles rough in his chest like cigar smoke, smoggy, acrid but warm all the same. “You did so well for us.”

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, touch firm and insistent despite the little hiss of tenderness you summon in response. Yet then the captain’s eyes soften, drinking in your flushed face and clouded gaze, lips parted under the rough pad of his thumb.

“So well.” He repeats, eyes distant for a moment as they trace over your lips before at last flickering up to your eyes. “Now let us return the favor and take care of you.”

It takes a moment for your hazy thoughts to process his words but when you do, you ease into his touch, breathy exhale spilling across the flat of his palm and eyes rolling shut. With a single, blissful sigh, you surrender once more to these men, let them take care of you in the way only they can, with their soft, firm voices and calloused, tender touches that bouy you as if you're lost at sea.

Then, the soft touch of a fabric as Price helps Alejandro drape the blanket across your form, enveloping you in a soothing warmth. You go limp, more pliant than you already are, leaning into the warm embrace of Alejandro’s form. A single hand comes up to clutch the blanket, velvety and worn under your fingertips.

Price vanishes somewhere beyond you, and Alejandro tucks you further into his side, nose buried in your hair as you shiver against him. Your bare legs dangle from the edge of the table, feet barely skimming the ground. Price’s voice is somewhere nearby, murmuring to someone you can’t see. You think you hear the sound of running water somewhere, but your thoughts feel clouded, hazy and sated with the knowledge that these men are intent on your care as much as your pleasure. For a moment you feel the riptide of fatigue pull at you, lulling you under as sleep beckons with an insistent, raw promise.

Footsteps. A presence, omnipresent and heavy like the force of gravity itself. You don’t open your eyes, don’t need to, already knowing who’s shadow falls across your form.

“Give her here.” Simon asks, demands from the colonel, voice low like the rumble of distant thunder.

You feel Alejandro stiffen, hesitate at the thought of entrusting you to the hulking soldier, remembering the way you went blank-eyed and completely limp under him, under the weight and pressure and force that is Ghost.

“Let him.” Price encourages, voice careful between the two. “I’ll need your help in here, mate.”

That seems to do it, because Alejandro is pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head before he extricates himself from you, steadying you long enough for Simon to catch you by the crook of your knees and width of your shoulders, hauling you up against him. The blanket bunches around your form, legs dangling and head lolling into the breadth of Simon’s chest.

Yet the motion isn’t without punishment, not as you’re shifted and your body protests valiantly at the abruptness of it all. A choked, pleading moan frees itself from your throat as Simon begins to walk away from the common area, strides large and purposeful.

“S-Simon-“ You try, unsure exactly what you’re pleading for but wanting to be closer, huddled deeper into his massive form.

“Easy, love.” He murmurs in response, accent thick and cloying in your thoughts. You settle at that, at the illusive, strangely sympathetic tenor of his voice. You’re too tired to do much else than recline against him with a shivering sigh, limbs aching and caked in grime.

It’s the sound of his boots against tile that rouses you only moments later, the warm steam of the bathroom curling across your skin and licking against clammy, chilled flesh. Ghost hovers just inside the doorway, hands splayed against you as they cup you to his form. You wish you had the forethought to lift your arms, tangle them around his neck, but the thought is gone as another figure hovers at your side.

“I got it from here, LT.”

Simon gruffs a sound of affirmation, and with surprising care dumps you into Gaz’s waiting arms. The blanket wrapped around you gently pulls away, and when you shudder Gaz’s lips are pressed into your temple.

“It’s alright, pretty girl.” He hushes. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He’s bare, you realize dimly, exposed flesh pressed against you. The thought is strangely mortifying, considering the man has been balls deep in your ass earlier. Yet you don’t realize why he’s naked until he’s stepping into the tub, lowering you down with him into the warm, soothing water.

It takes a few moments for you both to settle, some of the water sloshing out onto the tile with both your forms inside the tub. Yet Gaz’s chest is pressed against your back, legs on either side of you and arms caging yours as you sink lower into the water with a blissful sigh. You feel it when he rumbles a chuckle, a hand vanishing as he reaches for the supplies Rudy no doubt provided him.

You reach for them as well, but your hand is gently knocked aside by the sergeant you’re pressed against.

“Nuh-uh, love.” He chuckles. “This is all me.”

You find it difficult to protest, instead sinking further into the warm water.

He starts by gently pouring water over you, dunking your sweaty, matted hair and loosening the strands carefully with his fingers. The sergeant works systematically, lifting each limb and scrubbing it free of flaky cum and caked sweat, the soft bubbles of soap grazing across your arms and legs. You relax into him completely limp and utterly euphoric. Everything smells like coconut and aloe, aromatic and perfumed and warm as the water laps at your legs and chest.

Gaz takes careful attention to your face, gently cleansing it free of the tear trails and semen caked against your cheeks and the corners of your mouth. He’s murmuring gentle encouragements to you all the while, voice hushed and soft in your ear, full of “There we go, that'sa girl, sit up for me? Thank you, doll. Almost done, back next, shh, easy.”

When he gets to the apex of your thighs however, you flinch at his touch, just barely too firm against your chaffed, stretched holes.

“Take it easy.” A voice gruffs, and you blink your eyes open, vision adjusting to the dusty brown hues of the bathroom, seeking the cockney laden voice.

He’s there, in the corner, arms crossed and lurking, massive frame hunched into the otherwise too small space. Ghost’s eyes level at the both of you, gaze unblinking, blistering as he observes, watches, intent on observing and seeing through whatever mission he’s been tasked with.

Gaz only nods at him, his voice quiet in your ear as he speaks.

“You want to do this?” He asks, tone low, concerned at your reaction. You manage a nod over your shoulder, delicately taking the washcloth from his grip and letting it sink beneath the murky water.

It takes a moment, but you manage to hiss past the pain and arch up to scrub yourself, cleaning the mess of caked fluids that decorate your inner thighs and ass. You can feel Simon’s gaze on you all the while, the way he’s taking in every wince and jolt that flashes across your face.

“Deep breath.” Gaz encourages softly in your ear, and when you oblige there’s a slosh of water pouring over your head and dampening your locks.

You moan when Gaz works his fingers into your hair, massaging shampoo into your scalp and raking his fingers against the crown of your skull. You melt into the touch, all previous indications of soreness vanishing in the instant it takes him to chuckle warmly at your response.

“That’s nice, yeah?” He asks, and you can hear the touch of smugness in his voice, pleased with the way you grow limp and pliant against him, the way your eyes roll back into your head at the gentle, rolling motion of his fingers into your scalp. You can only hum a sleepy “Mmhmm.” In response, blissed out on the sensation.

He’s surprisingly good at this, you find out, making sure to go so far as to condition from the tips of your hair up, carefully combing your hair through his fingers. You relax fully into him, sink yourself up to your nose in the cooling water and let drowsiness take hold. Yet it’s only when you shift that you feel him, feel the hardening nudge at the small of your back that has you stiffening, sucking in a sharp gasp of air.

“Gaz…” You warn, casting a pleading look across your bare shoulder.

You’re not sure if it’s the warm water, the lingering haze of lust, or the blissful, relaxed sounds that spill past your lips, but you can feel him, can feel the blunt pressure of him against the nudge of your spine. It sends a lingering shower of sparks racing through your veins, but the heat of it is dulled, muted by exhaustion. You can’t, not again, not right now.

Gaz seems to read your mind, sees the way your eyes flicker with wariness. His hands still for a moment as he leans, entering your field of view with warm eyes that dance with a touch of mischief below the caramel surface.

“Don’t you worry about me, doll.” He replies softly, but there’s a sultriness there that isn’t fully extinguished. “This is all about you.”

And when his thumbs dig a dull, heavenly touch into the nape of your neck, you find it hard to complain.

All too soon, you hear the bathtub drain gurgle as Gaz pulls the plug, the water receding like the tide gone out to sea.

“They done?” A voice asks from the doorway, and your gaze blinks up to reveal Soap, present with what looks like two changes of clothes in hand.

“Just about.” Gaz replies, and you feel him shift as he detaches himself from you, scooting so he’s halfway out of the tub and can help you wobble your way to a stand to step out onto the cold tile.

Yet at the first step your legs tremble like an unsteady filly, and it takes both Soap and Gaz to steady you, sit you down on the edge of the tub. When you plop down on the edge, however, a remainder of soreness shoots across your hips and up your spine and you’re unable to bite back the moan that escapes you.

Gaz and Soap shoot each other a look, self-satisfied smirks tugging at the corners of each of their mouths.

“Shut up.” You grumble, feeling warmth threaten to flush across your face once more.

They spare you, thankfully, and as Gaz dries himself off it’s Soap who’s drying your hair, wiping the water from your shoulder and back. You trace the planes of his face as he does, watching the way his brow scrunches with concentration, the way his eyes linger over the swell of your tender, bruised breasts and the curve of your hips. The plumpness of his lip is sucked between his teeth, and you can tell he’s restraining himself, trying not to indulge with his touch on you, letting his fingers wander and press and summon whimpered pleas from your bones. His hands are assertive in the way only soldiers are, resolute with duty and yet still somehow gentle, considerate when he grazes over the soreness of you.

You attempt to help, feeling a trembling strength returning to you now that’s your hydrated and clean. Yet Soap merely grumbles at you, refusing to hand over the towel.

“Just sit back, hen.” He tells you, and his voice is firm despite the tenderness there.

You purse your lips at him, feeling a flash of guilt at letting yourself be so completely pampered like this, not allowed to do so much as properly dry yourself. Yet Soap notices, steely blue gaze flickering to yours when he notices your hesitation.

“Lass.” He begins, that cocksure smile tugging at his lips once more. His eyes are sparkling, and you can’t stifle the helpless flop of warmth that pools inside of you at the sight. “You just let us shag you seven ways to Sunday and were bloody perfect for it. Let us spoil you, aye?”

Yet you’re still unsure, and when the Scotsman sees you’re unconvinced he sighs.

“When else are you going to have five burly men at waitin’ on you hand and foot?” He asks almost impatiently, and that thought is intriguing to say the least, enough to make your hand fall limply back to your side.

Soap grins. The warmth thickens.

“That’s a good lass.” He murmurs, and there’s a touch of smugness in his voice, at the way he’s managed to school you into surrendering, letting yourself succumb to his touch once more. Yet that conciliation is enough to get him chattering now, tongue loose as he purrs little praises and encouragements at you all the while.

“So pretty.” He coos as he turns your face up in his palms, towel brushing hair from your brow, as he wrings water from your hair and carefully wipes at your still tender hips and thighs. “Perfect little bonnie for us.”

You’re pliant, docile under his touch, letting him do as he needs to and letting the familiar touch of hebetude pull at your senses. It would be easy to fall asleep right here, to lean against him and let rest take hold of you, drown you as it's meant to. Clean now, warm and undeniably sated, the promise of sleep creeps near with a touch that feels achingly familiar. The temptation is an enticing one, the promise of deep, velvety unconsciousness dragging at you even as Soap reaches for your change of clothes.

“Arms up.” He encourages, and you can’t help the drowsy little grumble that escapes you in protest.

“ ‘m tired, Johnny.” You slur at him, but the sergeant merely tuts at you.

“I know hen. I know. We’re almost done.”

You grumble even as you oblige, lifting your arms up and letting him slide a T-shirt that seems far too large for you over your bare torso. Pants follow, and you have to fumble with the drawstring of the sweatpants to cinch them around your waist so they don’t pool at your hips. Yet it’s the hoodie that Soap slips your arms through that makes you slouch into comfort, hum a note of appreciation at the back of your throat.

“Smells like you.” You mumble, eyes sleepy and warm at your sergeant, and you see Soap melt.

“Only the finest.” He grins back at you, eyes glinting with that tell-tale elation he has whenever he’s got your full attention.

There’s a call from down the hallway that you don’t catch, one that draws Soap’s attention and causes him to turn his head. You follow his gaze at first, but find yourself distracted by the shadowy figure still present in the corner, head tilted as he observes you, watches you watch him. You can see his eyes, see the way they’re slightly narrowed at your slouched form on the edge of the tub. It isn’t clear exactly what Simon is looking for, but he seems to find it nonetheless, gaze darting up from your pebbled nipples to your open, curious expression.

“Think you can stand?” Soap asks you, drawing your attention back to him. You nod, and with his help wobble to your feet, bare soles still sliding across the wet floor.

Yet again, when your legs shake with weakness it’s all you can do to remain standing, hand gripping Soap’s arm with a trembling, unsteady grip. Your gaze flicks upwards, once again finding the skull mask that haunts the edges of the room and the periphery of your thoughts. You don’t make a sound, barely alter your expression, but within moments Ghost is rolling his shoulders to push off from the wall, closing the distance between you both and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He doesn’t say a word as he scoops you up once more, and even Soap seems a bit surprised at the sudden gesture, eyebrows arched as the mammoth soldier cradles you into his broad chest.

“I-“ You try, but when Ghost’s eyes peer down at you your throat feels dry, tongue heavy, and the words are lost.

Soap trails you both as Ghost escorts you back in the direction of Price and the others. As you round the corner your nose instantly fills with the thick, scented spice of garlic and onions, and soon you find Rudy and Alejandro in the kitchen, turned to each other with smirking, tell-tale smiles as they bend over a pan of something that you think smells like heaven.

“Here.”

You turn at the sound of Price’s voice. He’s seated at the head of the table, and the chair creaks as he scoots away from the table, widening an arm in Simon’s direction. Simon follows the order without protest, gently depositing you into Price’s lap even as you whimper at the tender flesh of your ass coming into contact with him.

You should be embarrassed, you think. You should be a little bashful at this circumstance, perched in the lap of your captain who smells like cigar smoke and gun oil, at the way his arm closes around you and keeps you braced against his chest. Yet Price is warm, solid, his grip on you firm and reassuring, so you struggle to find yourself to care.

Price reaches for something on the table, a tube of what looks like ointment. You blink at it for a moment, brow furrowing even as he deposits a liberal smear on his calloused fingertips. When he catches your wary expression he merely huffs, the mutton chops of his beard twitching upward with his smile.

“Ointment.” He explains. “It’ll help with the tenderness.”

You arch an eyebrow at him, surprised but also a touch curious.

“You say that like you’ve been in this situation before, captain.” You remark carefully, but Price merely huffs at you, warm, smoky breath ghosting across the planes of your face.

“Years of experience, love.” Is all he gives you before his hand is snaking under the hem of your shirt, up to the tender, suckled flesh of your breasts. It’s a shock, you flinch under the cold touch of his slickened fingertips. Yet Price’s opposite hand digs into your thigh, steadying, guiding in the way only he is. You arch into him with a little protest as he smears the ointment across the rise of your chest, whimper caught in your throat.

“Easy.” Price gentles when you squirm, and the tickle of his beard whispers over the nape of your neck when he presses a kiss there. “I got you.”

You only nod, eyes scrunched shut and breath stuttering in your chest, hands gripping his arms and head tucked back against his shoulder. Your heart thrums louder, skin burning, yearning for the grip of him but knowing it’s too much, too soon, that you can only sit there and take it as his war-worn hands smooth the cream against your battered flesh.

Yet it’s when his touch vanishes from you, when you sigh that you hear him huff, chest jolting with the motion as you brace against it. Except then he’s shifting, and you feel a hand pull at the hem of the sweatpants you’re wearing -black, you notice- as his fingers descend past them, along your belly and towards the core of you.

“C-captain-!” You shudder when Price smoothes lotion across your folds, and suddenly the world is too hot, too bright, and you’re shivering under his touch, body growing taut. Yet Price’s touch is purely medicinal, purposeful and clinical even as you gasp and writhe weakly against him.

“You can take it.” He encourages, voice grumbling and firm, ever the leader, anchoring you from the discomfort and the rapid, uncertain flutter of your heartbeat.

You try to stay still, you do, but Price’s and feel like a warming brand against your skin, reigniting a coiling flame there, one that you can’t indulge in despite the wish that you could. It’s all you can do to tuck your head back against him, shiver under his hand cupping the core of you, your hands digging into him as you seek gravity. When you whimper, Price’s touch softens, soothing circles into your hips, your thighs, your ribs.

“There we go, love.” He rasps when you sink against him, caressed into docility as you perch on his lap. “That’s a good girl.”

You whimper, and the sound is enough to summon a grumbling groan, caught like the grind of gravel deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” And it’s Soap’s voice nearby, lilted low with desire as he watches you writhe and whimper on the lap of his captain, eyes scrunched shut and hands clutching at him to ground yourself from Price’s perseverant hand slid under the waistband of your pants. You look at him, gaze half-lidded and hazy, and when you do his eyes flash darkly at you, a curse bitten off in a language you wish you understood. It summons a weak, distant burst of arousal in you, one that has you squirm back against Price, seeking ground on which to retreat.

Yet all you find there is a grunt, a hand digging into your thigh with a warning as you recognize the bulge that presses up against the swell of your ass.

“Careful now.” Price mutters darkly, and you shiver at the desire there, even with his hand flat against the front of you, his beard tickling the nape of your neck as he at last withdraws his hand. “I don’t think you're quite ready for us again, sweetheart.”

For a brief, dizzying moment, you wish you were.

Footsteps, and when you turn your head Alejandro is approaching from the all too distant realm of the kitchen with a plate that has steam curling into delicious, mouth-watering whisps. When you catch his eyes you see him grin, and it feels for all the world like a promise of things to come, blooming like cumulus clouds against a far-off horizon.

“Arroz rojo.” He announces as he sets the plate in front of you, the red rice blooming with the scent of cumin at the back of your throat. “Rudy said you might appreciate something easy on your stomach.”

You twist in Price’s lap towards the direction of the kitchen, catching Rudy’s dark head of hair as he turns to meet your gaze. Contentedness blossoms across his expression, deeply satisfied and almost glowing with the hazy aftereffects of a man completely and utterly sated.

“Let me know if you like it, mi Corazón.” He replies, and his voice is almost shy, a touch bashful despite the fact that he’s the same man who spilled down your throat earlier.

Price’s fingers tap on your thigh, drawing your attention back to him. You crane your head to look at him, and then shiver at the darkness there, restrained but still ominously present.

“You’re going to have to move, love.” He gruffs at you. “Unless you want me to spoil your appetite.”

You gulp.

“Here.” Alejandro offers, arms open. You don’t have a chance to protest before you’re being moved between them, transferred from one set of arms to the other, adjusted until you balance on Alejandro’s lap.

“I-I can feed myself.” You try, feeling the ripe blister of embarrassment creep up your face as Alejandro reaches for the plate before you.

Yet the colonel ignores you, fork clinking as an arm keeps you braced against him, even as you try to appeal to him with half-lidded, weary eyes.

“Can you?” He asks, and that damned smugness that’s present in all of them is there in him too, as his eyes gleam down at you, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.

Still, you nod valiantly, grappling the fork away from his hand even as your own grip shakes lightly, spilling grains back onto the plate. When Alejandro chuckles the sound is warm, like the blaze of sun-kissed skin and spices curling on your tongue. His hand engulfs yours, steadies it as you raise the fork to your lips, letting the warm, cloying spices curl across your tongue.

When you give a little hum of enjoyment Alejandro practically purrs in your ear, and you realize that this must be doing something to him. With your tender and sore figure perched in his lap, the object of his desires smelling like musk and aloe and just a touch of him-

“Me estás volviendo loco con esos ruidos.” Alejandro murmurs, and the sound is more of a groan than anything else, spoken into your damp hair, arms hauling you tighter against him as you savor the food, a happy little noise hummed high in your throat. “The sounds you’re making are almost as pretty as you, bonita.”

“I take it that means you like it?” Rudy asks as he sets down a glass of water in front of you beside the plate, and you grin up at him, pleased.

“Mm.” Is all you manage around a mouthful of rice, and you see Rudy’s eyes melt, glaze over at the sight of you, fed and happy and satisfied. His hand flicks out, and you still as he brushes a stray grain from the corner of your mouth, drawing his thumb back to let his tongue run across the tip of his thumb. You still, tracing the motion with your eyes as a different heat flicker within you.

“Agua.” Alejandro encourages, reaching for the glass and tipping it up towards your waiting lips. You follow the command, the motion is easier now than it was before, when you were fresh out of a warzone that left you blistered and bruised but sated.

The two men before you seem entranced by you, damp and warm and docile in Alejandro’s arms. There’s a sense of pride there, you know, something about keeping you warm and fed and clean and protected that makes something primal pace against the confines of their thoughts. It’s the thought that they’ve rendered you to this much, carved gasping, lecherous words into your flesh and pushed you over into the abyss, time and time again, only to haul you back into their waiting arms.

It's not just them. When you cast a glance about there’s chairs pulled up to the table you were defiled upon, the men around you quiet but observant, gazes looking over your slouched, cuddled form with your drowsy, pleased expression and damp hair sticking to the corners of your face. Price, with his smoldering stare like the glowing burn of tobacco; Soap with his bright, keen gaze that glints at you from the distance between; Gaz with his softer, warmer eyes that still hold the hazy dying dusk of desire.

Ghost, who lingers against the wall just beyond. His eyes haven’t left you this entire time. It feels almost wolfish, the way he doesn’t shift, doesn’t blink when you look at him, arms crossed and gaze still dark, hungry for you in a way he doesn’t bother to conceal. You can still feel him, feel the way he split you open and left a piece of himself there, branding you with the heat of him nestled against your womb and his teeth grazing possessively over the underside of your jaw.

Alejandro’s fingers trace there instead, drawing you back to him, and your lips part around another forkful of arroz as he’s murmuring words into your skin that taste like cloves and paprika, aromatic and piquant.

“Wish we could keep you here, carina.” He mutters as you swallow, as his thumb smoothes over the still-trembling hand in his grasp. “We could keep you happy here.”

You are happy. Blissfully so. Despite the tenderness and fatigue, you’re undeniably comfortable, clean, fed, warm, satiated from the attention of the men around you. These men, who you’ve fought beside, who you’ve entrusted your life and body to, the ones who took their own pleasure from you as much as they gave you yours.

Maybe it’s the simmering coolness of your nerves, the way you’re so exposed and vulnerable like this, or the way Rudy’s hand pets your hair, the way Alejandro is murmuring to you, or the way Gaz looks at you with something that feels suddenly like longing-

You feel tears swell against the corner of your eyes, fat and heavy and too hot for your blistered skin. There’s a tightness that clogs your throat when you tilt your head back, trying to keep them from spilling like a cup over filled.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ Rudy coos, and his finger smears the growing wetness from your gaze, clearing it so you see his face flicker into view, brown-eyed gaze tenderly soft and worried at this sudden change in you. “Mi vida, what’s wrong?”

You swallow, and the capsicum taste of cumin lingers there. It does nothing to quell the tightness there, something skin to a sob threatening to bubble up when you speak. It dissolves as a sigh instead, one that falls across Rudy’s fingers cupping your face as you gently shake your head.

“Nothing.” You say, but your voice cracks in betrayal as you try to find the words needed to explain this strangeness in you, overwhelmed and burning at the edges but undeniably happy in a way you’re unfamiliar with. You feel like you’ve been dragged from hypothermia and into a sauna, body and mind reeling at the adjustment but grateful all the same, trying and failing to express the rawness of the sensations that threaten the crux of you.

“I’m just…happy.” You tell him at last-

And begin to cry.

Now they crowd around you, hush you with gentle words even as mortification and contempt flood your veins. When you try and wipe your tears, hide your face as you sniffle, there's a hand that pulls it away, wipes your face. Hands smooth along your shoulders and sides, rubbing gentle reassurances there that echo into the air around you.

“I’m sorry.” You manage between stifled hiccups. “I-it was good, really good, I-I don’t know why-“

“You’re exhausted, love.” And it’s Price who’s talking now. You think it’s his hand that cups your chin, over your quivering lip as you try to contain yourself. “You’re overwhelmed and tired. ‘s not your fault.”

“ ‘M sorry.” You try again, but he merely tuts at you, and there’s hands in your hair and Alejandro’s voice against your shoulders and someone’s holding your hand and rubbing circles into your hips and-

“Don’t you worry about that now.” The captain tells you, and his voice is softer now, almost ginger in the way he’s regarding you, you who’s taken bullet wounds and shrapnel and yet have become undone by the simple, irreplaceable act of being cared for.

You nod, feeling your shuddering gasps begin to wane, the shiver in your limbs subside as they once again drag you ashore, out from the blazing sun and into the cool shade of their embraces.

“Think you can handle a few more bites, Querida?” Alejandro asks, and you nod, let him lift the fork to your mouth even as salt obscures the taste.

“Next time I’ll have you come to the ranch and make you elote e carne asada.” Alejandro rumbles, and you feel the smile of him against your shoulder.

“ ‘Next time’?” Soap chuffs, and that’s enough to draw the attention away from you and to the sergeant, who crosses his arms in Alejandro’s direction. “What makes you think there will be a next time, mate?”

“Yeah.” Gaz chimes in, and he’s leaning forward so one arm rests against the table. “Besides, your ranch? Next time will be back at Beacon base in the UK.”

“You’re both wrong.” Price grumbles, fingers tapping on the width of his arm. “We’re staying in Lancashire at my place.”

“Now hold on, captain-“ Rudy objects. “Do you know how expensive it is across the Atlantic? Tickets these days are-“

They’re bickering, the previous, united camaraderie of soldiers evaporating as they discuss the group’s future endeavors like mapping out battle plans, pinpointing targets and 0600’s and supplies. You don’t bother to listen, not even as Alejandro’s tumbling voice echoes over your head and his arm wraps around your middle in a gesture that seems more possessive than it does stabilizing, the warmth of his hand burrowing against your ribs with nothing but the cotton of your too-large shirt to separate him from your skin.

Full now, belly warm and senses cloudy with contentment, you lean your head back against Alejandro’s shoulder, body slumping as you feel the familiar drag of fatigue wind around you, pulling you downwards. There’s nothing left. You don’t think you could walk even if you wanted to, limbs heavy and immobile. There’s fuzz between your ears, like cotton balls soft to the touch, obscuring sound and sight as the heavy weight of drowsiness washes over you.

“A few more bites, carino.” Rudy encourages, and you whine at him, too far gone to summon a real protest. The sound is enough to make Alejandro brace his head into your shoulder and groan at the little pleading whimper in your voice, too full and tired to bother with much else.

“Chica bonita.” Rudy purrs at you. “Are you tired? Need to sleep?”

You nod up at him, feeling a small flush of self-awareness at how you must look right now, bedraggled and tired and damp, draped in clothes far too big for you, eyes lidded and heavy with the promise of sleep. Yet Rudy’s eyes are affectionate when they catch yours, and you can taste the melted chocolate that oozes from them, dark and sweet.

“Let’s get you tucked in then.” He murmurs, looking over your shoulder at Alejandro. They exchange in Spanish you don’t understand, and it gives you the opportunity you need to let your head drop, eyes fluttering shut even as you’re lifted, moved. The world tilts around you, yet this time it feels less like the daring free fall of a skydive and more like the gentle, reminiscent swing of a hammock on a sunny afternoon, dappled sunlight streaming through a forest canopy. The world is warm, cloaked in color and birdsong, the air around you like a salted ocean breeze that licks at the folds on your clothes and tangles in your hair.

“Shh, shh, gently now.” Soap murmurs, and you can smell him as he helps you down into the bed he’s helped make, military corners tucked in with precision. You sink into it, knowing it’s nothing more than a cot but thankful to the gods to at last be horizontal, laying on your side as a hand lifts your skull to slide a pillow there. You curl in on yourself even as a blanket falls across your form, shivering.

Yet when Soap tries to leave you catch him, fingers tugging on his pants even as he tries to step away.

“It’s cold.” You manage, voice small despite your bold, unspoken request. Little do you know that when you ask like that, when you blink your pretty lashes up at him, nose hidden under the sheets and fingers hooked on his pants leg, that there’s no way he can refuse.

“Steamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.” He breathes, voice thick with wonder. Yet then he’s moving, tugging off his boots with a curse. The cot shakes as he braces on it, shudders when he manages to slip into the sheets next to you. A thick, brawny hand comes up to cup your skull, dragging you into his chest and pressing you there, and when you breathe in it’s him, cedarwood and ashes of the fire, thick and musky across your senses.

When you think it’s finally, blissfully over, however, there’s a hand petting your hair, and a younger, British voice on your other side.

“Room for three?” Gaz asks, and you manage to free a hand enough to wordlessly reach for him, wanting, needing him at your back. It’s not long before he’s settled in as well, spooning you from behind on the bed that is almost definitely too small for three people, two of them being built, sinewy soldiers.

You don’t care. You’re warm on all sides, warm from pleasure and affection and treatment from all of them. It feels like you’re suspended, floating on something beyond yourself, spirit lifting from your corporeal form and into the darkening sky above yet anchored by the touches of the men beside you. You’re too far gone to notice Rudy come, place a kiss atop your hair; to notice Alejandro drape another blanket over you, of Price and Ghost discussing in low tones by the doorway. The others stay, linger, on chairs or nearby. You think you see Rudy and Alejandro on the cot beside yours when your eyes flutter open.

Your vision shifts, gazing over the slope of Soap’s neck to the lit doorway. Ghost mutters something, a goodbye perhaps, and turns.

It’s to be expected. The man is a lone wolf, he works alone. For him to even be here is a miracle, and to have even participated at all a divine sign from the gods themselves. Now, however, he retreats to where he belongs, to the shadows that engulf the breadth of him, the kingdom where he was born and where he shall remain.

“Simon.”

The name escapes before you can stop it, and Ghost freezes, his head jerking upwards as he hesitates, turning to you, hidden within the embraces of his comrades.

You swallow, trying to conjure the spell to keep him here, within arm’s reach, forever now and always.

“Don’t get lost.” You mutter at last, and you think maybe your vision wavers when his shoulders droop, when his eyes blink at you, reflecting light.

His shadow falls across you on his approach, the width of him bulked by the tac gear he still hasn’t entirely gotten rid of. Ghost- Simon- blots light from the doorway like the shadow he is, absorbing brightness and drowning it in the essence of him. A hand reaches, smoothes the hair from your face.

“Never.” He mutters enigmatically, and even so you feel the edges of him splinter, crack like obsidian.

Your eyes flutter shut under his touch, cloak the world in mystic darkness as you surrender to him, to these men, to at last the inexorable, inescapable comfort of them, of sleep.

Help me find this Fic

I’m going crazy! I read this fic a while ago, it was an Alfie x Tommy x reader and reader and Tommy were in a relationship beforehand and then Alfie sort of entered himself into it as he does. It was the sequel to the first fic and Tommy took reader to a dinner with the Russians and they get split up and she ends up in a sort of sex room and Alfie shows up and stays with her. When tommy goes to get her she’s still with Alfie and then the three of them go back to Tommy and hers place where she wrecks everything and then they have sex. Pls help me find it idk if it got deleted or taken down or if I’m just stupid but pls.

Jess Mariano x reader

Summary: R gets overwhelmed and goes to her favourite boy for comfort

Contents: fluff

Warnings: none

Jess was at the diner, doing his usual half argue half joke with Luke.

“It’s not my fault you’re clinically insane”

“Oh I’m the insane one? Really mr i sleep with banging music on at full blast every damn night”

Lorelei shared an amused look with Rory as they sat in the almost empty diner - just being inhabited with Bébete, Morey and Kirk.

Just as Jess was about to pipe in with another witty comment, the bell on the diner door started ringing. Jess was about to look over his shoulder when he felt a smaller body nuzzle into his side. Shocked, he moved abruptly and was about to shove whoever it was. A whine sounded out and he looked down and saw Y/N. She was clearly distressed, face scrunched up and arms wrapped around her own body tightly. Everybody else in the diner was in shock, waiting for Jess’ next move, including whichever townsfolk had walked in after Y/N had. Much to everyone’s - even Luke’s - surprise, Jess wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting her bury into his chest without moving her arms from their tight position.

“What happened? Hm?” Jess spoke gently and quietly into her ear.

Another small whine came out of her mouth. Jess glanced over his shoulder to Luke before gently steering her to the stairs.

“C’mon,” he guided her up and into his bedroom (otherwise known as the left side of the open apartment) and stood with her in the middle of his section.

All she did was bury back into his chest, standing as close as possible without causing one of them to loose their balance.

“You wanna lay down?”

She nodded.

He gently led her to the bed and laid her down underneath the blanket, taking two extra pillows and slotting them behind her to help her feel comfortable. He pulled - with some struggle - the weighted blanket out from under his bed. He always kept it there ever since he first dealt with her feeling like this. He laid it atop her before laying on the other side of her. He didn’t get all the hoopla about weighted blankets or why she liked them so much, but she did and who was he to deprive her? He let her decide if she wanted cuddles and she made a prompt decision by whining the second he got in until he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her side/front against him while her back was against the pillow wall he built. Pushed against by pillows at her back whilst under a weighted blanket on a relatively cold day all the while behind held by Jess was quick to calm her down. That is before she had a thought she didn’t like and took a big, sudden, jarring breath in and sat up abruptly. Jess however was unfazed as he waited for the moment to pass before he eased her back down and traced circles on her forehead and wrapping one arm around her to keep her close while humming a tune to a song he couldn’t pin.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each others arms as Jess traced circles on Y/N’s forehead for a significant chunk of time. Y/N couldn’t seem to get close enough to Jess, burying her head further into his chest every few minutes before finally calming down and settling in the nook she had made for herself out of his body.

Luke stayed downstairs the entire time, not having a great grasp on whatever was going on in the apartment above but knowing well enough to leave them alone until he knows for certain Jess calmed Y/N down. The entire town by that point was bubbling with gossip about what had happened mere moments ago, all huddled up in Luke’s diner as he rolled his eyes in the corner.

Gauging interest for another fic/imagine exchange, this time for Valentine's Day. Please note that I am referring to "x reader" style writing for this exchange, as that is what I do.

If interested, please reblog or reply letting me know to add you to the tag list when the signups go live; likes tell me nothing.

Tagging participants from my previous Holiday Exchange under the cut for visibility

@pebblebrainlovejoy @https-glowduo @harbingerofheartbreak @the-radio-system-writes @dreamwvrld @bee-dot-exe @dani-has-fallen @lvyu @lyssys @zooone @cofwrites @rwqv @liv-n @gaytoadwithapopsicle @weewooihavefoundyou I think that's everyone, sorry if I missed you....

Reblog if you or a loved one have been affected by Eddie Munson's slutty hips. You may be entitled to compensation.

I, yet again, need help finding a fic.

It’s a marauders fic and I read it a while ago.

It’s poly!marauders x reader where r gets so overstimulated she uses her safe word and vomits because of the overstimulation.

I need help finding an azriel fic.

I hasn’t finished it and when I left the app it just disappeared.

It’s an enemies to lovers where the reader is a healer and specialises in healing Illyrian wings. At some point azriel and reader have to fly together to Windhaven. The last part i read was when Morrigan and Cassian came to Readers house after reader had hooked up with someone they met at Rita’s.

The fic also switches between first person readers pov and third person azriel pov.

Detention

Marauders. Wolfstar mainly. 

Warnings: smoking, fighting 

Pure fluff

A/N I have been seriously lacking for ideas for these one shots so please please if you have ideas let me know cause I would love to write them. I'm trying to post some one shots  for many different fandoms such as Marauders, Harry Potter, Marvel, Six of Crows and Merlin so if you have ideas or requests for any one shots with characters in those fandoms I would be happy to write them! And I am happy to write x Reader as well! :)

"I hate you all," Remus grumbled, buried in one of his jumpers, leaning back in his uncomfortable and far too small chair.

"How were we supposed to know Professor Binns was going to be just around the corner!" Sirius defended, just as grouchy as the Lycanthrope.

"Come on guys, don't fight," Peter budged in, still half asleep.

"Yeah, none of us are happy to be here and arguing isn't going to help," James agreed.

The four teenage boys had been dragged out of bed and into an empty, old, small classroom for a Saturday Detention.

"Surely you should be more upset Prongs, you're missing the Quidditch game," Remus pointed out.

James groaned in response. "I know, this sucks,"

Sirius grumbled something to himself and turned away from them all.

"Something to say, Padfoot?" Remus asked condescendingly.

"Shut up, Remus, this was your idea as well it's not all my fault that we're stuck in here!"

"You're the one who didn't check the map when he was supposed to!" Remus stood up, the lack of sleep and the upcoming full moon doing nothing to keep in his temper. "If you had done your job none of us would be in here!"

"If you had used your stupid werewolf senses for any good you could have heard Professor Binns!"

"Alright!" James bellowed louder than the two. "That's enough! You're frightening poor Pete," indeed Peter was in the corner with his hands over his ears. "Now if you can't talk to each other with any compassion then be quiet and talk after you've both calmed down,"

James left no room for negotiation so Remus and Sirius turned away from each other, Remus reading and Sirius quietly muttering to himself.

The hours dragged by and the boys all cursed Professor Binns for making them stay in detention for three hours. At the end Peter was braiding Sirius' hair for practise, James was lying upside-down on his desk and Remus was still reading, curling himself up and ignoring all of them.

————————————

When the third hour struck on the clock all the boys silently got up and walked out. James went to find the Quidditch team and ask them about the game, Sirius couldn't care less and went to the courtyard to smoke, Peter went after James and Remus went back to his dorm, curling up in his bed and reading again.

"James Potter where the hell were you?!" Marlene bellowed, upset with the Seeker.

"Detention," James replied sheepishly, not wanting to make her any madder. "How'd the game go?"

"Barter is not a good fill in Seeker, we lost by a long run," Marlene hit him up the head and kept walking with him, ruffling Peter's hair.

"Why'd you get a detention this time?"

"Got caught in a prank by Professor Binns," Peter sighed, all students knowing how strict Binns was. "Detention was horrible, three hours of Sirius and Remus sending each other harsh glares and arguing,"

Marlene gave him her sympathies, asking where both young lovers were now.

"Sirius is probably somewhere smoking, Remus is probably reading in the dorm or library,"

"Probably the dorm," James added. "He thinks the library is too crowded on weekends,"

———————————

Sirius stepped on his finished cigarette, extinguishing the sparks. He sighed, running his hands over his face, feeling bad for the argument with Remus.

Remus heard the door open but didn't bother to look up to see who it is, assuming it was Peter.

He felt his bed sink down and started to turn his head. Before he saw who was on his bed, he felt two arms wrapping around him and soft kisses being pressed into his shoulder blades. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Sirius in turn.

"'M sorry, know the full moons making you antsy, should've been nicer," Sirius mumbled into his chest, pulling himself as close to Sirius as possible.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have snapped," Remus kissed Sirius' head.

They silently lazed there in each others arms, Sirius pressing kisses to Remus' chest and Remus kissing Sirius' head.

"What book are you reading?" Sirius asked quietly.

So Remus started off about his new book, talking about the characters and plot with deep thought and analysation. Sirius listened to every word, paying extra attention so he could discuss the book with him on another day closer to the full moon to distract him from the pain.

Remus slowly fell asleep, words about his new book turning into quiet mumbles.

Sirius smiled softly at his sleeping form, brushing his hair away from his face - which needed a cut - and kissing his cheek, laying there in his sleeping arms.

And when Peter and James walked in to check on Remus, they both knew to silently walk out and leave the two to their lazy afternoon, wrapped in each other.

Can you ease do a hc where sebastian calls you a good girl for the first time (kind of in like an innocent or joking way) and finds out you have a praise kink?? 🙈 thank you!

Oh dear...

But imagine you and him are playfully arguing over something

And it's been going on for a while so you decide to just let him win

You roll your eyes at him, "Fine. Okay, I lose. You win."

He laughs and leans in to give you an innocent kiss on your cheek. "Good girl."

And immediately, a pleasant tingle danced down your spine, making you clench your thighs together

You get over it in a few seconds, but Seb knows your body too well. And he caught the way you shivered at the praise

Just so he wouldn't embarrass you, he didn't say anything right away. He waited a day or two, then brought it up in bed

Naked under the covers, his damp body pressed against yours as he pounded into you from behind

His hand wrapped around your throat and he squeezed just a little, "Come on, be my good girl and cum for me."

He didn't miss the way you moaned and clenched around him hard the moment he called you his good girl

He chuckled in your ear, making a mental note of that.

I bet once he finds out you have a praise kink, he would be totally shameless

Especially in public, imagine you and him in an elevator and Seb decides to mess with you. He doesn't think twice before slipping his hand under your dress

You gasp and whimper as quietly as you can while he pushes your underwear aside and pushes his two fingers inside of you

He smirks when he feels how wet he made you. "Is my baby's pretty little cunt wet for me already?"

And he'd watched you squirm and try your hardest to hold back from moaning

You would melt anytime he called you his 'good girl.'

Especially when he growled it in your ear while spreading your legs apart and fucking you harder and deeper.

Or when he mumbled it, in a daze, against your lips while you rode his cock, "Such a good girl... riding my cock like you were made for it."

Can you imagine him calling you his good girl and asking you to kneel in front of him and show him just how good you've been all day? eye-

"Come here baby, show me how good you've been today"

"Have you been a good girl? Or do you need to be punished?"

"You look so beautiful on your knees, baby."

"Fuck..." he'd moan, "You feel so good."

Or imagine him tell you how good you taste while he's eating you out like there's no tomorrow.

"Such a sweet girl."

"Now be good, and be quiet for me"

Imagine him pressing his palm against your mouth, shutting you up while he speeds up into you and leans in to tell you just how good you feel

"Fuck... Babygirl, you feel incredible."

hi bubba, remember that massimo torricelli edit? i was wondering if you could so something similar with bucky, or mob seb you choose so reader is mobs ex and they meet at a club and he sees her with some guy and gets jelly and pulls her to a private room and ... well you know what to do ;)

'Feel It' by Michele you mean? Oufff... Anyway, here we go

Oh, love me a classic mob!seb

Okay so, you're at a club with some friends, and the guy you've been talking to since you and Seb broke up - for a couple of weeks now

And the last person you expect to see at the club is the devil himself - Sebastian.

Standing there, with his hands in his pocket and his guards surrounding him.

Anger all over his face as he sees another guy's arms around you

You send him a smirk and look away, pretending he isn't there full on staring at you and sending death glares to your new 'boyfriend'

A few drinks later, you realize one of your girlfriends is nowhere to be seen so you go look for her

But you don't know where the bathroom exactly is so you get kinda lost

And before you know it, Seb's right in front of you.

"Are you lost babygirl?" he asks, smirking while he looks at you.

"Oh screw you." You groan and try to walk away but he grabs your hand and pulls you into him

"Where are you going? Huh? Back to that piece of shit you came with?" he asked, disgusted when he mentioned the guy he saw you with, trying his best to contain his jealousy

"Why do you care? You're the one who asked me to leave, remember?" you spat back and he pulled you closer

"Watch your tone. Don't provoke me." he said, sternly.

You sassed back, "Or what?"

"Or I'm gonna fuck you while he watches and show him that you belong to me." he said it so effortlessly

You scoff and try to leave but he tightens his grip around your waist

He dips his head into your neck and kisses you gently, inhaling your scent which he had missed so much.

"Tell me you don't miss me." he mumbled, daring you to agree while he nibbled on your skin; making you moan shamelessly

"I don't miss you." you lied, while tilting your head so he could have more access to your skin.

He chuckled. "Tell me you don't want me right now. Babygirl, look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me to fuck you."

You couldn't lie this time, you could never resist him for long anyways.

He slips his hand under your dress and slips his fingers past your underwear and toys with your clit; smearing your wetness around.

He chuckled again when you instinctively roll your hips against his hand.

"Your body is betraying you, baby."

Seb ends up dragging you to one of the private rooms at the back of the club

And neither of you can keep your hands to yourselves once you are past the doors.

"Fuck, I missed you so much." he mumbled breathlessly against your lips while he undressed you eagerly

You threw your head back and moaned when he slipped his fingers inside you; stroking your walls gently and making you whine his name in pleasure

"That's right, only I can do this to you." he whispered against your skin as he removed his fingers from you and cupped your core, "You're mine." he growled in your ear

Maybe he'd push you down on your knees and hold your face gently. "You've been bad, babygirl. You better make it up to me." he whispered and undid his pants.

You lower his underwear and take his erected cock in your mouth hungrily.

He groaned as you slowly dragged your tongue over his slit, stroking his cock with your hand while you teased his tip with your mouth

You took as much of him as you could; your tongue stroking along the length of his cock

You bobbed your head around him, hollowing your cheeks and making him groan every time you ran your tongue across his tip

He pulled away right before he came, because your mouth felt too good and he wanted to fuck you properly and remind you that you belonged to him.

"Come here." he pulled you up and held your jaw in his hand, parting your lips and kissing your open mouth while he walked the two of you towards the couch

He pushed you down and climbed on top of you, wrapping his hand gently around your throat.

"Seems I need to remind you that you're mine, huh?"

OH but would he be rough and wild, because he just needs to get all that anger and jealousy out of his system.

He'd spread your legs apart and push into you, and watching you whine under him

You pull him closer by the back of his neck for a messy kiss while he speeds up into you

He'd groan against your lips, mumbling about how good you feel around him

You could only whimper and mewl under him; his body moving against yours so perfectly that it turned your head into a foggy mess

He'd speed up again, making you squirm and moan louder.

Maybe he'd even alternate between fucking you, and pulling out to lean down and eat you out before pushing into you and fucking you again.

He'd make you lose your mind

And you'd soon feel the pressure in between your hips getting too much to bear, so you let go

Coming undone hard and violently around him, holding his shoulders for dear life

He moaned out loud and finished right after you, leaning down to kiss you so he could keep quiet and not make too much noise while he came

Panting and hearts racing; you two stayed there, him unmoving in your arms. His heavy body on top of yours, while he kissed your neck to calm you down

"Dump that idiot. And come back home with me. It's not the same without you." he mumbled against your skin after some time, and pulled away to see your reaction.

You caressed his cheek and nodded. "But you have quite a lot to make up for as well." you smirked.

He sighed "I know, I'm sorry baby. Just come home." he leaned in to kiss you, now content that his girl was back with him.

a/n: i never wanted mob!seb so bad before

How about mob! Seb and the kid of the police chief! reader

OKAY but this is a mf-ing concept!!! 

alright so your dad is the chief and you and Mob!Seb are having a secret relationship

your dad doesn’t know anything about it, obviously and it’s kind of thrilling for you to be going out with the town’s notorious bad guy while being a cop’s daughter

maybe that’s what makes your relationship exciting

your dad was a strict man, and you still lived with your parents, plus you had a curfew

so Seb would always park his car near your street, waiting for you to sneak out of the house so he can take his girl for a drive or spend some time together at his place later in the night

he’d wait for you, leaning against his expensive car and his smile getting bigger and bigger when you got closer. 

“There she is, my babygirl! I missed you so much all day, you have no idea!” he’d mumble against your skin as he hugs you tight. 

having to meet in secret and keep your relationship hidden made each moment you spent together much more exciting

he had started getting cocky in bed as well;

“Bet your daddy doesn’t know you call me daddy too, huh?” 

“Look at you, you’re my personal little slut, aren’t you babygirl?” 

“You’re my dirty little secret, aren’t you?”

Or on nights when he just can't help himself, he'd sneak up into your room while your dad was out working late, or fast asleep

And he'd fuck you good in your bed;

Placing his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet while he pounds into you

"shh, don't wanna get caught now, do we babygirl?"

okay but mob!seb would spoil the hell out of his girl

to a point where it became hard for you to hide all the money and the gifts he gave you almost daily. 

designer bags and shoes

endlessly shopping trips

cash

jewelry

a necklace with his last name on it which you had to hide under your shirts all the time

you’d hear your dad and his mates talking about your boyfriend often, and whenever they got a lead on him, you’d text him to let him know so he can watch out for the cops.

“marry me” Seb would tell you often, while in bed

or while driving around the city at night

or while eating junk food in his kitchen late at night

you’d always laugh and tell him, “My dad will kill you.” 

and he’d just chuckle and reply with “Let’s run away then.” 

you’d then tell him that your dad would shoot you if you ever did

“Well, that leaves me no choice but to steal you away from your dad.” he’d say, leaning in to kiss you. 

you’d laugh and tell him he’s crazy. 

“I’ll make you mine one day though baby, don’t you worry.” he’d kiss you again, as though sealing his promise. 

“Hmm sure babe, sure. Drop me home for now, before my dad kills us both.”  

Headcannon for professor!seb? Maybe hes always had a crush on shy!reader and one day he sees another student flirting with her in class and he becomes really pissed off and shitty attitude during the lecture, maybe snaps at reader by accident? Would love this to be smutty xx

OOF

Ooh but think about it tho?

Seb as a uni professor; English Lit maybe

And you're one of his favorite students - not just because you are bright, but because he has a crush on you

And tries to make it go away but it just won't

And over time, he'd grown quite protective of you;

Always making sure to send you notes that you missed

Always making sure you sit in front of him

Always being lenient when marking your papers

And often he'd tell you what to prepare on for the 'surprise' tests

Maybe one time he catches you talking in hushed voices with one of the boys

Maybe he hates the sight of you getting cozy with someone else

But what can he do? He's just your professor

But then he sees the good for nothing boy making you laugh

And he sort of just snaps

"Miss Y/N! Pay attention, we're not here to joke around!"

Maybe he yells louder and with a meaner tone than he expected

Maybe he regrets it the moment he catches you flinching at his tone

But God does he make up for it afterwards

You're trying to rush outside once your class is over because you're embarrassed, but he calls out your name

"Miss Y/N, i would like to have a word."

You sheepishly make your way to his desk

And he can't help the tingly feeling when you approach him

Maybe he steps a little closer to you once all the students are gone

He grabs your chin and gets you to look at him

"I'm sorry about earlier." he apologizes, looking down at you softly with his deep blue eyes

Maybe you don't have time to process anything before he gently presses his lips to yours

You're in shock for a few seconds, but then you drop your binders and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back while your face is on fire from blushing too hard

"I don't like it when other people flirt with my girl." he whispers against your lips at some point.

"Your girl?" you'd ask, shamelessly pressing your body to his

He'd smile and lean in for a kiss again

"Mine."

Maybe he'd be eager and he'd take you right there and then

Right on top of his desk; pushing into you and touching you in all the right places

"You're okay with this, doll?" he asked, gripping your hips as ge placed you on his desk

You'd smile and give him your consent

And that would drive him crazy; his favorite, shy little girl just giving herself to him like that

It'd make him only want you more

Perhaps he'd be gentle, caressing your body and kissing you feverishly while he lifts up your skirt, removes your underwear and pushes inside you

Maybe he'd keep his lips pressed against yours to keep you from making any noise

Lots of praises

"You feel better than I imagined, babygirl"

"Oh you're so good to me, aren't you?"

Maybe he'd fuck you slowly, making good use of this stolen moment

"Such a good girl, taking me so perfectly"

Or maybe he'd be mean and wild and dirty

Maybe he'd be rough because he has waited for this for so long

And now he finally has you all to himself

Maybe he'd grip your jaw and tug on your lips while he pounds into you

Choking

Biting your skin

Maybe he'd be the type to spit in your mouth and push his fingers past your lips right after

Or maybe he'd rather have you bent over his desk

Maybe he'd tug on your hair and make you cum hard and fast

Maybe he'd press the palm of his hand against your mouth to keep you quiet

"Be quiet baby, we don't wanna get caught now, do we?"

a/n: *waves awkwardly* hey, um, I'm back from my break.

Damn right he owns me

You Can Be My Full Time Daddy.

Sugar daddy! Seb x Reader HC

Where to begin with sugar daddy! sebby…

Keep reading

Could you possibly write about y/n calling Sebastian 'Daddy' for the first time and his reaction.

*clears throat*

OKAY

I'm thinking it'll be after a heated argument, which you took too far. And now you're trying to win back your grumpy boyfriend.

You follow him around the house, apologizing incessantly.

"Sebbyyyy, I'm so sorry. I know I overreacted, I trust you completely and I know you'd never cheat on me, just-"

He'd give you a glare which spoke volumes. And it'd shut you up.

But not for long

When he'd walk out of a room, you'd follow his footsteps like a lost puppy.

You knew he usually wouldn't be able to resist you for long. But today was a bit much.

He had managed to completely ignore you for almost 3 whole hours now.

And you were upset, and very, very ashamed of your behavior. And the silent treatment was killing you.

You walked lazily over to where Sebastian was; in his study, sat on a couch and going through a script.

You plopped down on the couch next to him.

You were wearing one of his hoodies, and he usually would not stop telling you how much they suited you better than they did him but today, he wouldn't even spare you a glance.

"Seb?"

Nothing.

"Sebby" you whined like a spoilt child.

Still nothing.

"Daddy come on! I said I was sorry" you whined again tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

And the words which left your mouth shocked both him and you.

But especially him

He raised an eyebrow at you, finally looking up from the script in his hands.

"What did you call me?" there was an unfamiliar tone lacing his words. Almost playful but stern at the same time.

He sounded like he was mocking you, and seemed to like every second of it.

"I- uh... Nothing. Are you done being mad at me now?" you asked, worried that he might think you were being too childish.

The stern look didn't leave his face as he pulled you onto his lap quite harshly.

"No. Not quite. Now answer me, what did you call me just now?" you had never heard him use this voice before.

He stared deep into your eyes as though daring you to defy him again.

You didn't answer him. You were too shy to repeat it again.

"Alright then, have it your way" he spoke and manhandled your body in such a way that he had you lay over his lap, with your ass in the air.

He moved the hoodie, exposing your butt and he very briefly caressed your skin before you felt him smack your ass cheek.

Hard.

You cried out. Not out of pain, but surprise.

A twisted part of you liked it, but you would never tell him that.

"I'm gonna ask you again, baby. What did you call me?" he sounded so dangerous but so hot...

Smack!

You simply whined again instead of replying.

Smack!

This time it hurt. And you finally spoke up.

"Daddy! I called you daddy. I'm sorry, Seb. I just-"

He cut you off by pulling you up and settling you on his lap; making you straddle his thighs.

He didn't seem to mind it one bit, in fact, he seemed rather intrigued.

"You've been bad today, baby. Daddy's upset that you'd even dare to think that he'll ever cheat on you" he spoke, while his hand caressed your red butt.

Something about how Seb referred to himself as "daddy" turned you on immensely.

You looked at him with curiosity; eager to find out where he'd take this.

He was much more dominant in bed that night. He had you begging, pleading him just to let you come

He liked how you surrendered completely.

He bloody loved it.

Many things changed after that day.

He wasn't weirded out by it or anything, in fact, he quite liked it.

He liked being your big, strong man who could care for you like no one else ever could.

Seb was quite a gentle lover, yet the moment you'd call him 'daddy', he'd switch immediately.

It could be anywhere; at home while you would be lounging around.

Or during sex

Or while on the phone when he was away.

He'd go into "daddy mode" whenever you'd like him to.

Or, whenever you were acting up and being a brat.

He'd use his hand to pin you down on the bed or against the wall.

"Why do I even put up with you, huh? Why are you being so fucking difficult today, baby?" he'd ask on days when you were being too bratty.

Then you'd smirk and tell him that all you wanted was his attention.

"Yeah? Well then, work for it"

He'd point to the ground, in between his legs where he'd want you to kneel and take his cock into your mouth and show him that you even deserved his full attention.

Seb would be the best daddy to you.

He'd know when to push your limits and when not to.

He'd know when he could edge you for hours.

And when he could fuck you to sleep.

On days when you were particularly good, he'd even let you sleep with his cock buried deep in you

"You've been a good girl today, baby. You get to keep daddy's cock warm all night. You'd like that?"

And you'd nod a bit too quickly.

Then the following morning you'd wake up feeling tingly because daddy would be slow fucking you until you woke up.

Daddy Seb had a way of making you feel filthy and special at the same time...

He'd look you dead in the eyes, with his hand wrapped around your throat, while he made you come over and over around his cock

He took immense pleasure in making you cum for him multiple times in one night.

He would flick his tongue over your clit until you were shaking under him.

He'd always have to touch you when he was in the mood.

Dirty talk with daddy Seb? YES

"You like being on your knees and showing daddy how much you deserve to be fucked all night long, don't you baby?"

"Here, suck on daddy's fingers while he eats you out, yeah? That'll keep you quiet"

"Look at you, always so fucking ready for my cock"

"Your body is fucking shaking, baby. Is it because of me?"

"Did you ask for permission before you cum?"

"Swallow it all, baby. Show me you're daddy's good girl"

Sure, you didn't need him to be in "Daddy mode" all the time.

But on some days, he needed it more than you did

You could tell when he needed to let off some steam. And you were more than happy to be his little girl whenever he needed you to.

OMG could you imagine him switching from Sebby to Daddy in the middle of a heated discussion?? Because i CAN?

You'd be telling him off for being too jealous or possessive for whatever reason

And he'd suddenly give you this very stern look

"...you need to get your shit under-"

He'd cut you off by gripping your jaw in his strong hand and forcing you to shut up and look up at him.

"I fucking dare you to complete that sentence, babygirl"

And you'd immediately forget what the fuck you were saying in the first place.

Spanks... When you were naughty. Or nice.

He didn't care, he simply liked seeing his handprint on your butt.

He'd grab your butt, and pinch it all while giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Ohh, aftercare with Daddy Seb?

He'd be the most gentle boyfriend after an intense play time

He'd run you a bath and would carry you to the tub and back to bed if you were too tired to walk

He'd kiss every inch of your body

And rub lotion on your sore skin

He'd tell you how good you had been and just how much he loves you

"I'm sorry baby, was it too much? Was I-"

Then you'd cut him off

"Shh, no. Hey, you were perfect. Thank you, I love you."

A/N: I'm sorry Anon, you were saying...

Panic Attack

Summary: Your best friends hadn't noticed your anxiety all day, but what happens when your enemies do?

Platonic!Marauders x reader, platonic!Lucius Malfoy x reader, platonic!Evan Rosier x reader, platonic!Rabastan Lestrange x reader

Implied Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attack, angst, please let me know if I missed anything

Themes: Fluff, some angst 

Disclaimer: I do not know if it is cannon that Lucius, Evan and Rabastan went to school with the marauders but I am using it in this fic. If you do not like Slytherins please do not read this fic.

Sorry it's short.

You had been on the edge of a panic attack all day. You weren't sure what happened but from the moment you woke up anxiety followed you like a dark cloud. Your friends had failed to notice but you didn't want to bother them.

You were in your last class of the day, Gryffindors and Slytherins. The inevitable panic attack was getting closer, fear rising in your chest making it hard to breathe. Your leg was bouncing under your desk and your hands were shaking and fiddling on your desk. But the friends that were surrounding you failed to notice anything was wrong.

But your laboured breathing and panicked eyes seemed to have caught the attention of a blonde haired boy and his friends. Lucius Malfoy caught your eye before nudging his friends. Evan Rosier and Rabastan Lestrange both looked over to you, sensing your panic from across the room.

This worried you more, afraid that they would call it out or bully you when the class ended. You glanced at James on your right, but like usual he was oblivious to everything around him other than Lily Evans who was in the seat in front of him. You then glanced at Remus to your left but he was too focused on taking notes and making Sirius pay attention to notice the desperate glance.You could feel the anxiety rise up your chest and wrap around your lungs and neck. Your breathing became quicker and tears threatened to fall down your face.

After what felt like an eternity, Professor Flitwick called class to an end and you grabbed your book bag and rushed out of class, not waiting for your friends or for any extra work to do over the weekend. You were so focused on breathing and not crying until you got to an empty bathroom that you didn't hear the quick footsteps behind you.

 A gentle hand grabbed your arm and pulled you sideways into the Prefects bathroom. You let out a small yelp of surprise. Warm, strong arms wrapped around you and you didn't have the energy to check who it was. The panic attack finally took over you. Your whole body was shaking and tears were running down your face. Muted voices whispered sweet comforts in your ear, hands rubbing your back and arms.

Once the panic started to die down, the voices became more clear.

"Shhh, it's alright, we've got you," Evan Rosier's voice came through first.

"Just breathe, it will stop soon," Lucius Malfoy's voice next.

"Easy, you're alright," Rabastan Lestrange's last.

Realising you were being comforted and held by three Slytherins you panicked again, pushing yourself out of the warm arms that turned out to be Lucius'.

"Easy now," Rabastan said.

"Are you alright?" Lucius asked.

"What- what are you doing?" You asked, head still foggy and chest still tight.

"You had a panic attack you needed someone to help calm you down," Evan explained, voice gentle and worried.

Why would Slytherins be worried about a simple Gryffindor? Someone who was friends with the boys that pranked them endlessly?

The confusion shone out on your face and all three of them took notice.

"Just because you're a Gryffindor doesn't mean we can't help you," Lucius assured.

You only just took notice of your hands still shaking.

"Can we help?" Evan checked.

Anxiety covering any thoughts or worry you nodded. Warm arms embraced you again. The scent of cologne, pine trees and musk welcomed you as the three boys continued to whisper sweet comforts in your ear.

After you had calmed down, the boys asked if you wanted to go back to your friends, to which you shook your head, not ready to face them again just yet. So they took you to the Slytherin common room. 

Despite your worry they told you everything would be fine, and to your surprise they were right. As much as you had been coaxed to think Slytherins were mean and heartless, they all welcomed you with open arms and the three boys stayed by your side the whole time. While some Slytherins were bitter a Gryffindor was in their common room, they never outright bullied you or made fun of you and a lot gave you tips for anxiety and helped you calm down with horrible jokes and bad impressions. 

Maze runner ~When the boys compete for you~

Minho: “ Hey feel free to touch my biceps, their really strong. ” *Minho flexes Biceps*

Headcanons

- Minho would act cool but still be very flirtatious.

- It doesn’t matter where you are or who you are with.

- Some Gladers say he’s all over you or he’s being a try hard.

- Don’t be surprised if Minho take his shirt off whilst in your presents.

- He wont force you into anything but he will defiantly try to tempt you too.

- Minho would also stand quite close to you. His chin would either rest on your head or your shoulder.

- At the Camp fire Minho might try to some how convince you to come sit on his lap cause its “warm”.

- Minho would do cute little things like pat your head, play with the ends of your hair or cut your check.

- Minho would also tease you a hell of a lot. He knows it get’s him the attention he wants.

- Minho might also try and bribe you into something with kisses, cuddles and his hotness.

He would cuddle up to you like this😍🥰

- You and Minho always have good fun together no matter what.

- He will always be there to pick you up if you fall, he just wants you to be happy and he hopes it’s with him.

- Minho would gradually gain the confidence to touch and play with you hands.

- When Minho holds your hands in his. He can feel how small and soft they are.

- He always thought of you as his baby flower.

Newt: “You just keep smiling beautiful cause thats all I need.”

- Newt would never force anything on you unless you sexually tempt him of course.

- You and newt would do this cute thing where you would blow kisses to each other.

- Its cute seeing Newts reaction he’s got cute pink rosy checks.

- Newt would also make an effort to make sure that your never uncomfortable.

- He will tell other gladers to back off. And ask you if your ok.

- Your safety is his number 1 priority.

- Newt would pick flowers for you.

- He would either stuck it behind your ear, make it into a flower crown or present them to you with a kiss to seal the deal.

These are the sunflowers in the glade that remind Newt of you ❤️

- Newt would always kiss your head/for head and sniff your hair.

- He hugs up to you nice and close on those cold nights.

- Newt would also brush and braid your hair, commenting whilst telling you all the things he loves about you.

- Newt lifts up his hoodie and lets you curl up underneath. On his bare chest. It makes he feel wanted and you feel safe.

- When it comes to other guys Newt usually gets flustered, he tries not to but he can’t help it.

- It just comes with the job of being in second command.

- Newt would support you regardless of who you choose.

- Newt wants you to be happy even if its not with him.

- He knows that there are some things in life you just can’t have.

Thomas: “You know I can give you the world”

- Thomas plays hard.

- Thomas as we all know is a very determined person and if wants something he will not give up easily.

- Thomas isn’t afraid of competition.

- Thomas would give you anything and everything you could ever want.

- Perks of being basically the chosen one.

- Thomas would tell you about all the beautiful place he remembers and offer to take you to all them.

- Thomas would tell you about the long horse rides on the beach, where the sand and the sky a line perfectly. And the vibrant sunset that would highlight all your eyes and give you a heavenly glow.

This is the beach you would ride along together 🥰😍

- The mountains where the snow shines like diamonds, the soft snowflakes and the snowmen you could make.

The snow you would visit in spring ☃️❄️

- He would tell you about the northern lights that would dance in the sky. Saying “That just like you and me..up there.”

The beauty of the moment you would share ❤️💚❤️

- He imagine’s sitting in a field looking up at the sky and asking you about your dreams.

- Thomas would give you piggy back rides or pick you up in his arms and carry you home.

- Thomas would risk it all for you, cause your worth it.

- He not afraid because he has faith in you, he believes in you.

- Thomas wants to create these memories with you, he never head the chance to do the same with Newt, Chuck or Teresa.

- Thomas can see his future in your eyes.

Gally: “I just want you to be safe and the only place thats safe is in my arms.”

- Gally wouldn’t trust anyone being alone with you for a second.

- Gally would always put a protective arm around your shoulder.

- He would also put you into his chest when ever you upset.

- Gally will stay for as long as it take till your tears dry and you smiling once more.

- You very thankful for Gally, the boys leave you alone and you’ve never had any problems.

- Gally would always have you sleep next to him. Wether you like it or not.

- He would never force anything on you but he’s got eyes on you 24/7. Day and night he’s watching.

- He would have a got at anyone and anything that threatens you.

- You would always wear his shirts, his hoodies and anything else you can get your hands on.

- Gally expect to have at least 1 cuddle a day, if not he becomes very feisty.

- Something you always loved about him.

- Gally would carry you on his shoulders.

- He loves when you give him jump hugs right into his arms.

The hugs you share ❤️

- He would always dance with you at the bomb fire, watching your hair fly as you spin around and around.

- Time always slowed down when he was with you.

- For the first time Gally could actually be himself.

-He love you because you gave him freedom he never knew he had.

Imagine this

*October 1981*

*Dumbledore gives everyone in the order veritaserum*: so, who's the spy?

Peter: me

James and Lily: *lives*

Sirius: *doesn't go to Azkaban*

Harry: *grows up with his parents*

Voldemort: *ded*

hi bestie, do you write fluff? if so could you do one of James flirting with the reader :)

I do! Hope you enjoy :)

Such A Flirt

Fem!reader x James Potter

Warnings: mentions of sex

Honestly, you thought, We’re already together, you don’t have to keep flirting.

James was obviously no occlumens, as he kept leaning against the door, blocking your exit from the classroom with that cocky smirk on his face.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

You rolled your eyes, unable to mask the smile that was spreading across your face. “Yes. Come on, James, I have to study.”

“What, brains and beauty? Your boyfriend must be the luckiest guy alive.” He replied surely, running a hand through his hair.

“M-hm. He’s lucky I’m not hexing him right now.” You said. He gasped, pretending to be offended.

“How could you say such a thing? You know how sensitive I am.”

“Yes, I do. How long did you sulk over Sirius stealing your sausages at breakfast?” You teased, pushing past him and laughing when he caught you around the waist, pulling you back towards him. “James!”

“Won’t you come and have fun with me instead?” He rested his chin on top of your head, refusing to let you pry yourself loose.

“I’m not having sex with you in my free period, Potter.” You deadpanned, despite having done so not four days ago.

“Good gracious, no.” He said, dramatic as ever. “I would never do something so utterly indecent.”

“Sure. Look, James, I really have to go! Remus is waiting for me.” You protested, taking advantage of his obvious distraction and shimmying out of his hold.

“You’re leaving me for Moony?!”

“Yes, that’s exactly it, and you’re paying for the wedding. That okay with you?” You said sarcastically.

James grinned. “Anything for you, doll.”

You rolled your eyes again, blushing nonetheless. He kissed you on the lips, hands on your waist, and you smiled.

“I suppose Remus can wait.”