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gglitch1dd · 20 days

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...Totally worth it.

Context: Your oldest son is being hunted down by his girlfriend's father.

Warning: Mention of a shotgun, angry DILF Eijiro, Midoriya boys causing chaos

You heard your front door slam open making your eyes widen in shock. Your husband paused in the middle of a spoon full of pudding in his mouth as he looked to you just as confused. You both turned to look to the entrance way. Running at lightning speed was Toshinori with sparks going over his body as he immediately went to his father.

"Dad! Dad you've got to hide me!" He urged as he shook his father, his eyes wide in pure panic as he glanced behind him before looking forward again.

Izuku swallowed the chocolate pudding and sat up. "Now why are you slamming open doors, you didn't even take off your shoes!" He motioned down to the red Jordans that Toshinori still had on.

"Dad, it doesn't matter right now! He's going to kill me if you don't hide me."

You sighed as you looked to your eldest son with a raised eyebrow as you were putting the rest of the pudding in the fridge. "Toshinori weren't you and Kane at Uncle Eijiro's house?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Toshinori nodded his head. "Yes, but now, they both want to kill me."

"Who?"

"Uncle Eijiro and Kane."

"Why?"

"I don't have time to explain it!" He rushed out as he kept on glancing at the doorway.

Izuku moved to stand up as he let out a sigh, upset that he couldn't just finish the amazing pudding you had made him. "I'm sorry, Toshi, but you've got to explain what you did to warrant such a r-"

"I got caught making out with Satomi in her room." Toshinori rushed out, catching you both by surprise. Your jaw dropped in pure shock as you looked at your seventeen year old son. Izuku's eyes widened as he stared at Toshinori. Said boy looked like he was semi-regretting his life choices. He looked to the side. "Listen, it isn't my proudest moment either, okay. I was in Satomi's room and we were just together you know. We're teenagers and then one thing led to another and... I... found myself..." He grimaced as he tried to find the words, looking embarrassed with a strained smile. "Tangled... with... her... tongue." He shrugged.

You looked at your eldest son in utter shock. You knew he was a teenage boy and you were also aware that he had a life you were not aware of (to his knowlegde) but this was not what you wanted to hear on a perfectly good Sunday. You put your hand to your hips. "You're telling me that you slipped and fell into her mouth?!"

Your son paused. A smug look went to his face as he chuckled. "Well, when you put it like that-" He saw the look on your face. He coughed as he hit his chest. "No." He shook his head. "No. I- I did not."

You looked to your husband who had a mixture of pride and shock on his face. Shocked that Toshinori was still alive, pride that he managed to pull that off. Izuku let out a chuckle. "Number one, good job." You nearly sprained your neck with how fast you turned to look at your husband. "Number two, get your passport, Eijiro's going to murder you." Just as he said that he heard the familiar sound of a Ford Raptor engine outside their house. "Too late, hide." Izuku motioned to one of the cabinets in the kitchen. To your surprise Toshinori quickly folded himself and slotted in.

Right as Izuku kicked shut the cabinet, you heard at your doorway.

"WHERE IS HE?!" You could feel his voice in your shoes. Eijiro had never sounded so angry besides when in uniform and even then you weren't sure he was ever this mad.

Marching into your house like a bull seeing red, was Eijiro with an ugly scowl on his face. He had a shotgun in one hand and a prepared fist in the other. Your eyes widened at the gun in your house. Eijiro whipped his head to look over to the both of you.

"WHERE IS TOSHINORI!? TOSHINORI! WHEN I CATCH YOU MIDORIYA TOSHINORI-" A chuckle came out of his mouth as a grin went to his face, his pupils thin as he looked around your house vigilant. "I'M GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE BOY! MIDORIYA TOSHINORI WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!"

Kane suddenly appeared storming through your house as well. He had a mean scowl on his face that you only ever saw on his father. "He isn't outside. Check his room."

You watched as Eijiro stormed upstairs right as his daughter came rushing inside with slippers on.

"DADDY! Daddy, please don't kill him!" She shouted as she paused with a deep breath. She put her hands on her knees with a sigh before looking to you and your husband. She seemed pretty anxious about the entire ordeal as she scurried over to you. "I am so sorry Uncle Izuku and Aunty Y/N." She bowed at the waist. "Daddy is-"

"Going to kill Toshinori and I'll help him bury the body." Kane stated confidently with his arms folded over his chest.

Satomi turned to look at her brother shocked. "Kane!"

Eijiro came running down the stairs and made a bee-line straight for your husband. "Izuku, where's your son?"

Izuku turned to look at Eijiro. He blinked before raising an eyebrow as he leaned back against the counter. "My son?"

"Yes, your son."

"Which one? I have many."

"Toshinori!"

Izuku turned to look at you with a look so genuinely confused he almost had you fooled. He scratched the side of his head. "Toshinori? That's a weird name. Never heard of him."

Eijiro practically looked as though he was about to burst an artery. "He is your eldest son!!"

Izuku took a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. "OH! My eldest. Okay, Asahi!" Peaking out from the sitting room was your fourteen year old son. "Uncle Eijiro is looking for you." He motioned to the angry black haired man standing in his kitchen.

Eijiro let out a groan in frustration, the few grey strands in his long black hair seemed to be caused by this whole situation. "Asahi! Where's your brother!"

Asahi raised an eyebrow. "Who? I have many."

"TOSHINORI!"

Asahi was silent. He glanced at Satomi, at his father then at Eijiro. He adjusted his glasses. "Never heard of him."

Eijiro let out a groan. "You Midoriyas!"

"Daddy, please." Satomi stepped forward as she took his arm, pulling on it, begging him to listen to her. Her big ruby eyes stared up at him pleadingly as she tugged on his arm. The sixteen year old girl was a spitting image of her father, just comedically shorter and much more feminine. "He's my boyfriend! I don't mind when he touches me."

"Satomi, my princess." Eijiro put down his shot gun, which you immediately put onto safety and put away far from his reach. He focused down on his eldest daughter, cupping her chubby face in his big hands. He looked down at her genuinely. "You are the air of which I breathe. You are one of my most precious little gems and my darling little princess. I told you that your body is a temple, it's sacred," He told her almost as if genuinely giving her a talk right now. "It's something you should keep safe from the grabby hands of stupid boys like Toshinori."

"But daddy, I'm seventeen!" She frowned up at him as she removed her face from his grasp. Her frown looked more like a pout as she folded her arms and looked up at him.

"Exactly! Far too young for such a stupid boy!"

"I love Toshinori!"

"You should love yourself more!"

"He's my boyfriend!" She stood her ground.

Eijiro motioned to the side. "He can be your boyfriend without any hands!"

"I like his hands and I like when he touches me! I feel special!" She defended, making her father's face fall in shock but a bit in horror. "If- if you kill him, I'll never forgive you!" She shouted with tears in her eyes.

Eijiro looked like a kicked dog as his face feel. "Princess-"

"Never ever forgive you! I'll- I'll..." She thought for a second of something that will hurt him. She walked over to Izuku and grabbed his arm. "I'll make Uncle Izuku my new Daddy and I'll never speak to you ever again!"

Izuku's eyes widened before he looked back at Eijiro, who turned to look at him as if he wanted to slaughter him. Izuku put his free hand up in self-defense. "I did nothing! She said she would do that, not me!"

"I love Toshinori, Daddy!" She told him as she stepped closer to her father with a hand to her chest. "He's kind and sweet and he's always looking out for me! He doesn't make me feel like I need to lose weight to be pretty or that I'm not enough for him! He loves me for me, and that's all I've ever wanted!" You could hear the desperation but also the real genuine love in her voice. "I know you don't like me dating, but he's a good guy! And I love you, Daddy. I really really do, you're my world and you've given up so much for me" You saw Eijiro soften at the words, his shoulders easing as he looked at his eldest daughter. "But I'm not going to stop loving him too."

"YAH!"

You all froze at the sound that came from one of your cupboards. Satomi turned in surprise. Izuku slapped a hand over his face with a defeated sigh.

Without wasting a second longer, Eijiro flung the doors open of your cupboards before finding your son, scrunched up in there. Toshinori had wide eyes as he looked up at his girlfriends dad. He let out a nervous chuckle. "Hey uncle Eijiro... Ever tell you that you have amazing genes?" Eijiro grabbed him by his hair. "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY-"

Toshinori sat at your kitchen table with an ice pack on his swollen cheek. He counted himself lucky that all he got was a punch to the face. He looked up at you as you gave him a glare with your arms folded. He sighed. "Don't look at me like that mom."

"That's what you get for acting like you're grown, Toshinori." You pointed out. "You shouldn't be feeling up girls in their rooms!"

"At least not when their father's are home." Izuku pointed out. You gave your husband a look that quickly made him clear his throat. "Is what I would say." He quickly covered up. You rolled your eyes, "Honey," Izuku laughed as he motioned to Toshinori, moving to put one hand on Toshinori's shoulder. "My son over here-"

"You're sleeping on the couch." You didn't even entertain your husband as you pushed yourself off the counter and moved towards the steps heading upstairs.

Izuku looked at you shocked. Toshinori looked at his dad amused but said nothing. "My love, you can't be serious." He started as he followed after you.

"You want to support your son's shenanigans, go ahead and do it from the couch. You aren't sleeping in my bed with that nonsense."

"Our son-"

"YOUR son!"

"My love, I'm sorry. Please don't do this to me."

Toshinori ignored his father trying to get back into your good graces as he pulled out his phone to look at himself in his camera. Asahi walked into the kitchen, moving to grab himself a cup of juice. He turned around to look at his older brother as he took a sip. "Proud of yourself?"

Toshinori looked back down at his reflection. Despite the bruise, he had a crimson red lipstick kiss planted on his cheek. He smirked, knowing the kisses he would get in the future for braving such a feat. He nodded his head. "Totally worth it." Asahi let out a scoff and shook his head as he moved to leave the kitchen. "Can you blame me!? She was wearing a sundress!"

-Glitch1d

[Midoriya Izuku Masterlist]

#izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #deku x reader #dilf eijiro kirishima #dilf kirishima #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #Midoriya Family Shenanigans

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transformation4life · 2 months

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New Year New Ford

New year's Eve, 2023. 11:55pm. You were watching your local channel that had the New York Ball Drop. Like past new year's you were alone in your apartment. All your friends had got invited to parties besides you so here you were. However one of your friends handed you something interesting last you saw them. "I heard that if you blow the candle and make a wish right as midnight hits it'll come true!" Your friend said as he handed you a star candle.

It sounded like superstition but this year was rough for you as you found yourself unsatisfied with your life and your job so hey it can be worth a shot! You remembered that right before you went to watch the countdown you enviously scrolled Instagram to where you followed a concerning amount of bodybuilders. They seemed to have the perfect lives. Big beautiful body, a loving partner, sponsorships, and getting to show off. Just thinking about it makes you a lil' hard. One bodybuilder that you saw while scrolling caught your eye in particular. He looked so perfect... so large...

"If only I looked like him..." You mutter. Then you hear the people cheering on from 10 to 9 then 8 and so on. You look at the counter with the candle and a lighter and then the tv screen. It was a mad dash to light the candle and put it close to your face closing your eyes and speaking your wish. "I wish I was a bodybuilder with big huge muscles!" You blow out the candle right as it hit midnight.

You open your eyes again and find yourself looking the exact same. What a disappointment. Time for bed though you are very tired. You grab your green blanket and settle down on the couch as you snooze. Unbeknownst to you, your life was going to get a whole lot better.

As you slept, your body started to glow as your white pale skin became that of a bodybuilder tan for competitions. Your clothes evaporated from your body leaving you completely in the nude. Your body now started to expand in all directions. Your flat chest filled with meat and become thick pecs. Your arms became thick like trees. Abs popped in, shoulders becoming bigger, back widening. Your legs became thick and juicy like a drumstick. Your hands became calloused and worn and just a bit bigger. Your small pencil dick increase to a girthy 8 inches of a beer can while your adam's apple became more prominent and neck more thick. Your flat ass became large and bounced like a bubble. Your hair was cut into it was a buzzcut as your body physically aged. The transformation was now complete as you continued to rest. snoring in a much deeper tone.

As the morning came you were still fast asleep unaware that you had a completely new body.

You yawn as you awake not yet realizing your muscular body as you scratch your ass. You seem to forget that you were wearing clothes last night as you walk to your bathroom, letting your new dick dangle. You reach the mirror in the bathroom and rub your eyes and that's when you realize. "OH MY FUCKING GOD?!??!?!" You scream. You finally realized your body changed.

It wasn't long until you started to explore your new body, commenting on your new ass and big dick. While you tested out your new body the scenery around your bathroom became bigger and much more luxurious. In fact, Your entire apartment was remade into a much more massive house not that you knew this was happening. You just let your muscles captivate you. You closed your eyes and you put your massive arms to your head as you thought about your new life. As that was happening your bodybuilder tan slowly disappeared and a cross necklace wrapped itself around your neck and some workout shorts covered your member. No underwear though.

You eventually put your arms down as you realize you should probably check your phone to see if it changed in any way so you leave your bathroom completely blissful of the changes to both your house and bathroom. You head to your new bedroom and check your phone. Much to your surprise, there are notifications from many including dating apps. Seems like the new you gets around. You rub your head as you realize the reality of your new life is going to be a doosey.

As you ponder what to do next you feel something happening in your brain. You can feel your brain processing slowing down. Most academic knowledge you ever had being flushed down the metaphorical drain as it was replace with solely the need to bulk your already large body. You space out as this was happening and a little drool came out of your mouth before you snapped back to reality. The only thing on your mind now is to go to the gym and get RIPPED. So you grab the workout gear you suddenly now have and ride in your car to your favorite place in the world.

You arrive at the gym and scent of musk overwhelmed your nose and it felt like home. With it being the new year you see many new people but that doesn't stop your grind. You walk to the gym lockers and your instincts lead you to a locker with the name "Lunsford". You put your bag into the locker and get back to the gym floor. With ease and effort you work out for hours. You always loved that pump. After working out you adjust your sweaty tank and hand to the gym area with full body mirrors.

Once you arrived you immediately stripped into just underwear and socks and flexed. God you looked so good. You loved your body. You loved your life.

A few months later...

Your life has been such a breeze and you were invited to the beach with some bodybuilder friends you made over the months. In a cocky fashion you flex on the beach before stripping into your beach attire.

was only a matter of time until someone wanted a picture or a video of you. With the first person who asks you put on some shades you had in one of your pockets and put them on, only to take them off immediately after and wink at the camera.

"it's going to be a good year!" You say to yourself as you jog to the water with glee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hey everyone! Late new year story for ya! Hope this year brings you good fortune and fun! See you in the next story!

#muscle transformation #muscle tf #male tf #reality change #mind change #mental change #bodybuilder tf #male transformation

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faithisasuperstar · 5 months

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days spent in the sun → treech

a/n → making coral’s moodboard sent me into a spiral and now i have moodboards for every district 😭 is it worth it to post?

notes → in which nature is the perfect place for treech to show his love for you. feminine intended reader (though not sure pronouns are mentioned)

warnings → not edited & upload via iphone

your hands were wrapped around treech’s arm as he carefully lifted his axe up to the tree, beginning to carve the shape of a heart. he was prudent in his work, meticulously shaving the bark off of the tree from inside the shape he had formed. you watched him silently, in awe of his handiwork. the result was a perfect heart shaped carving, permanently engraved on the tree. beaming, you pressed a quick peck to the boy’s cheek, then pulled him along with you as you walked atop a tree trunk bridge back to the lake. currently, the two of you were clad only in your undergarments, having gone out with the intention of swimming for the whole day. your clothes were strewn over the branch of a fallen oak, basking in the sun. the water was freezing, a stark contrast to the midsummer heat that lingered in the air. treech held your hand as you stepped in, prepared to catch you if you accidentally slipped. at first, you sunk into the shallow water leisurely, but as the water reached your hips, you let go of treech’s hand, completely submerging yourself in order to get used to the temperature. as you arose, your teeth chattered, but a grin was still plastered on your face.

“get in, the water’s great!” you invited treech to join you with a sarcastic remark as he stood to the side, opting to just watch you. you could tell he contemplated it, but he denied, shaking his head. “where’s the fun in that?” you whined.

“i’ve gotta do something first.” he simply replied, a roguish glint in his eyes. you were suspicious, but let him do his own thing as you bathed in the water and sunshine. the gravelly sand that covered the bottom of the pond indented the skin on the underside of your legs, adding a soothing pressure as you sat down, letting the water ripple around you. many minutes passed, and you grew restless the more time you spent alone in the water. venturing further into the pond, schools of minnows could be found darting rapidly. they brushed past your skin, maneuvering around your moving form. all was quiet aside from the waves of the water as you forded through. a rustle in the bushes from behind you startled you, causing you to jump and turn around quickly. treech had come back, his hands behind his back.

“whatcha got there?” you queried, swimming over to him as he kneeled by the water. he just smiled, pulling out a bouquet of colorful wildflowers from behind him. vibrant pink poppies, orange lilies, mauve colored petunias, a few orchids scattered here and there, and yellow wallflowers galore all seemed to bloom from his hand. you were in complete and utter astonishment at the bundle of flowers and the work he had gone through to pick them for you. they were tied together with a loose stem, and you delicately took them from his hand. mother nature’s sweet scent wafted from the stunning plants, instantly soothing you. “these are beautiful, treech,” he grinned, eyes lighting up with pride. his smile always made you melt, and the way his hazel eyes, speckled with green and honey tones, glowed golden in the sun made him seem ethereal. laying the flowers down gently on the grass beside treech, you draped your arms around his neck, placing a tender kiss on his lips. treech gradually joined you in the water, but not before you plucked the sole, pale blue morning glory from the bouquet and tucked it behind his ear, brushing his curls out of his eyes. he took your hand as you guided him further into the pond. the two of you splashed around, laughing for hours until your fingers pruned.

treech had to drag you out of the water as the sun got lower and lower, the sky growing a burnt orange. you groaned playfully, but shook the water out of your hair anyway, allowing it to drip on the grass below you. the earth felt cool and damp under your bare feet, and the wind blew against your body, making you shiver. quickly, you slipped your shirt over your head, and tied your skirt around your waist, hoping to gain some warmth from the items of clothing that had been strewn out in the sun all day. it seemed to work, but your arms were still bare and the wind was picking up. treech noticed the goosebumps that had formed all along your forearms, and he helped you into his wool coat. smiling, you thanked him, grateful for the extra source of heat. gracefully, you picked up your dainty bouquet of flowers. intertwining your fingers with his, treech led you out of the familiar woods, taking you down the roads of district seven, back to your home. like the gentleman he was, treech walked you to your door, waiting to make sure you got inside safely before leaving. he was just about to leave as you slipped through the front door, but you called his name before he could go any further. he raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on.

“i love you,” you professed, coyly.

“i love you more,” treech declared with a smile, before promptly turning and bidding you goodnight, the flower still adorning his hair.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #thg x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #thg fanfiction #treech tbosas x reader #treech x reader #treech #treech thg #treech thg x reader

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latoyalestrange · 1 year

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geronimo

seb. sallow x f!reader

(i am once again apologizing because this was meant to be a drabble and is not drabble length. enjoy anyway whores)

summary: when taking a shortcut leads to taking your clothes off in front of sebastian sallow

words: 1.2k

warnings: ngl she's kinda spicy. oopsie? aged up seb and mc. not edited and also not good lol. as always minors dni.

finding those blasted demiguise statues had to be your least favorite assignment yet. your groundskeeper (who was an alcoholic, by the way) had somehow gotten you to agree to do his personal bidding in exchange for learning how to use alohomora. it had to be some kind of violation, but looking for harmless little statues was much easier than exploring any catacomb or solving any trial of puzzles, so you didn't complain.

on the other hand, it required a lot of walking, and a lot of aimless searching. on this particular search brigade, however, you'd received a tip from a fellow student that lived in north ford bog that a strange glowing artifact was hidden in an abandoned cottage just outside the hamlet. sebastian decided he would come along for the adventure, mostly hoping to find something worth value in the house and to annoy you along the way.

"i think i see a shortcut just there..." you stretched your neck out to see further down the faded and forgotten bath to your right, just hardly noticeable.

"it's not on the map?" sebastian inquired, peering over your shoulder to get a look at the map in your field guide.

"no...let's see what's this way." without waiting for a response, you pushed the heavy brush to the side to allow yourself to be swallowed by the leaves.

"don't just--y/n! wait for me." he followed behind you, trying to dodge the rough branches threatening to whack him in the eye. you ignored him until you reached a clearing, not wanting to linger in the prickliness. you emerged to see a breathtaking view. you had found yourself on a cliff's edge above the quaint lake in the center of the hamlet. the evening moon reflected on the calming ripples in the water, lighting up the clearing with a haunting blueish glow.

sebastian soon emerged from the brush as well, sputtering a leaf out of his mouth. you didn’t notice, still captivated by the view. he straightened himself and his robes and finally joined you near the edge of the cliff.

“it’s beautiful, isnt it?” he turned to gaze at you, your eyes practically sparkling from reflection in the water. he couldn’t help but notice how your plush lips glistened from your homemade dittany lip oil. he smiled as it reminded him of how much he adored your femininity. you could utterly destroy grown men and women with your powerful incantations in one minute, and the next you would be fixing your hair and blotting your nose. you were badass and graceful about it at the same time. it could make sebastian weak in the knees sometimes.

“hm?” you quirked your head to the side at his distant gaze. he seemed to be looking through you with a gentle smile lingering on his lips. he blinked his thoughts away quickly.

“yeah, incredible…” he took his first look out across the water, breathing in the gentle breeze. “hey, i dare you to jump in.” he challenged with a sly smirk. your first instinct was to immediately refuse, thinking about how cold the water would be and how it would soak your best school uniform. but, upon giving yourself a second to ponder it…

“sure.” you shrugged, agreeing in a casual tone. the smile instantly vanished from the boy’s face.

“what? no, i don’t think you should actually—“

“you’re jumping with me, though.” his throat nearly closed up at the sight of your hands reaching up to unclasp the first button on your vest. he was stammering to find the right words as your vest fell to the forest floor.

“i actually don’t know how deep that lake is—“ you stepped forward to peer over the edge of the landing, inspecting the water. you turned back to him and shrugged once more.

“looks deep enough to me.” you smiled reassuringly at him, but it made him even more nervous. you placed a hand on his shoulder for support as you removed your kitten heels. he felt like his entire body was buzzing.

“okay, but you have to think about the rocks too—“

“sebastian. you know me well enough to know that i never back from a dare. i thought you were too, but it’s okay if you’re afraid.” he realized what you were doing immediately and it was proven by the smug smile on your face. you didn’t avert your eyes from his as you slipped your blouse off of your shoulders, leaving your upper half exposed to the moonlight. sebastian looked like he could explode.

any expression of annoyance or concern left his face as he watched you. he couldn’t find any wordsto say, he just stood frozen before you with an appreciative stare.

“okay, well i’m jumping. it sounds like a rush. bring my robes down for me will you?” he just nodded, holding a stack of your clothes in his arms as you stood before him in only a corset top and an aggravatingly short slip skirt. he was almost salivating at the sight. didn’t shift his gaze as you took a deep breath, centering yourself before sparking at the edge and leaping off with a graceful dive.

sebastian seemed to have come out of his trace as you left his view, blinking his sinful thoughts away. he frantically started on his own clothes, realizing the opportunity in front of him.

down below, your body had broken the waters surface with a grand splash, sending you deep down to the bottom on the lake. however cold you thought the water was, it was ten times worse. but as you emerged again, the wave of shock sent across your skin from such a drastic change slowly subsided. you dipped your head back, allowing your now saturated hair to lay flat behind your face. you rubbed your eyes, still getting your bearings before a loud splash erupted just next to you. you were drenched once again and certainly surprised to see sebastian’s head popping out of the water in front of you.

“i thought i finally found your weakness for a moment, sallow,” you teased him as he wiped the water droplets off of his own face.

“you’ll never know.” his confident smirk returned. it made you notice how prominent his muscular shoulders were just below.

“yeah? why’s that?” your words were innocent but your tone was entirely contradictory.

“you’ll just never guess what it is.” his voice reciprocated the same flirtatious influence, which you took as an invitation to swim closer to him.

“no?” your voice was quiet now, just a few inches away from him. he shook his head.

“are you sure?” your hand slithered up his arm to grasp his strong shoulder. “cause i think i might have an idea.”

it was silent between the two of you as he searched for any reluctance in your eyes and his own mind for a way to top your antics with a bolder gesture. you felt something ignite in your stomach as you saw what he wanted to do in his eyes. before you could react, his hand tangled in your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you into a passionate, burning kiss. it was like all of the pent-up desire was released between you two at the same time.

from that day forward, sebastian was your favorite exploring partner. partially because he knew the area like the back of his hand, but mostly because you never wanted mischief like this to end.

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x reader #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfic #harry potter cu #sebblurb

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blorbocedes · 11 days

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it’s crazy that redbull use to love chopping drivers’ heads off mid season because they got the ick, but now they are just unwilling to sacrifice anyone, on top of promising lawson a seat and having another driver on the come up who’s a championship contender in f2. they don’t have solid plans for yuki, but keep extending his contracts with the sister team, they’re letting dr hoard the seat with his nasty asscheeks. checo seems to have his place secured too, but it will probably bite them in the future, because this gap between him and max will be punishing as others have been catching up

if you want 'my source: I made it up' take on it all it goes like this:

the redbull power struggle from earlier this year hasn't ended. it's merely at an impasse. redbull's thai owners stopped horner from getting fired, and max credibly threatening to leave and tying his contract to helmut's means CH can't get the old man fired either. and remember, helmut used to be in charge of who gets the seat when deitrich was alive and still holds considerable influence

if DR performed like yuki is this year, you would've absolutely seen him in the redbull car by now because he was brought in as Horner's pet project. they would happily mid season chop Checo's neck. then lawson who proved himself in the car could fill his seat in vcarb

you'll see conflicting narratives where redbull/DR sources like medland will say yuki's not in contention for redbull, yuki's shopping for other seats and he doesn't even want the seat

and then yuki himself saying he's happy to be in vcarb until he gets a shot at redbull, and helmut saying he is being looked at.

since yuki would be helmut's pick, horner doesn't want to consider him and thus lose out on the driver selection process. that's why you'll also hear so much "oh yuki goes wherever Honda will take him" yuki also has never been allowed to test in a redbull, ever. so whenever there's narratives of put DR in the car he's the fastest in the sim -- yuki hasn't ever been allowed to test for that car!!! and they've had everyone in their junior programme including f3 drivers test it!!!

so checo. the car is worse this year, and hes showing for it by being 5th in the standings rn. If redbull loses the constructors, esp with Ferrari catching up, it will be because of checo. but checo brings in the most sponsors after max and lewis, so the math horner has to justify to the board is he brings in more $ than losing first in the constructors will give us (around 20 mil). the redbull also being harder to drive means you don't want to risk an entirely new driver getting to grips with it when you have someone for the past few years who has reliably driven it where you want (checo was 2nd in standings last year).

checo getting the 1 year extension means once again he'll have to prove his worth for the team, and will be expendable after 2025. 2026 is when new regulations kick in! that changes the whole game... max allowing the merc flirtation to happen this year and redbull (horner) saying they're looking at fernando and carlos and whoever else is in chess when both sides make forward pawn moves. max is showing he's not married to redbull until 28, esp if the engines aren't good, and redbull going fine! we can look at other drivers too~ (not in their own junior programme tho 💀).

that's why they're keeping the status quo for 2025 and trying to keep EVERY driver available, cause then 2026 with new regs and Ford becomes the game changer.

#silly season #redbull racing #blorbocedes ask

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gh0vtzb1og · 2 months

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Hi, i was wondering if you could do smth with male!reader whom is a "housewife" and has this slutty body of his.. it can be anyone but I would like it to be Graves. If yes, can you add dumbification..?

I’ll show you the difference between military and me. Housewife reader au / MALE READER X GRAVES

Notes ; dumbification, America rahhh🦅🦅🦅🦅, breeding, praise, fluff, pillow humping

Cowboy military man graves to the rescue

I don’t think you guys understand how long I have been craving a graves one. Also whoever keeps suggesting dumbification I think I’m doing it right idk..

Also If anyone requests cowboy/ or country stuff what so ever. I will never write stories with fords or ram, I only do chevys and gmcs, their better trucks👍

You were standing in your husbands kitchen, cooking him dinner. Graves was a traditional man, besides the fact he was married to a man. He liked you cleaning and cooking, like a good house wife. Whenever you were on your knees scrubbing the floors, he couldn’t help but get excited, he wanted to ruin whatever you made with yours and his cum.

Graves didn’t tell anyone he was married to a man, honestly he said he was married to a woman, not like anyone would meet you. You were very quiet and reserved to outsiders, maybe that’s what he adored. He loved fucking you in public spaces, he prayed someone would find you both just so you can be embarrassed and shy away. It was always attractive when you did.

You were shy when you met him, it was at a state fair, you were in a bucking shoot, getting ready to get on some Bronc and graves made eye contact with you. Winking and going back to watching you. Maybe it was your tight shirt and jeans, you did have amazing hips for a man. But after that he immediately wrapped you around his finger and got married to you. He loved his little cowboy.

You were still in your place in the kitchen. A jingle of graves front door keys hitting together made the door unlock, a sound you loved hearing. It meant your lovely husband was home. He stepped halfway down the hallway, removing his work boots and walking into the kitchen. His arms wrapped around your waist snuggly.

You tilt your head up to look at him, graves moved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch. “Philip I’m cooking, no fucking me till I’m done.” You snap back at him, graves narrowed his eyes at you, roughly using his free hand to slap your ass before moving away. Leaning against a counter.

“How was work hon?” You coo, graves took in a deep breath, he ran his finger over his wedding ring. A hum leaving his throat as he rubbed his thigh anxiously.

“Rough day, I really need you angel.” He bit his inner cheek, he did a desperate pout as you stared back at him. He was too damn desperate. Especially with that puppy dog pout? He probably had a days worth of cum waiting to be emptied into you. Graves took off his compression shirt, his body was toned with muscle, graves had a decent happy trail, nothing too much but it was definitely attractive.

Graves moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. He was trying his hardest to not rip your clothes from your body and ravage you infront of your dinner.

You were on your hands and knees, back arched as he shoved deep into your tight hole. He loved the way you squeezed and flexed around him as he used you like a fleshlight. Graves held onto your hips, his cock rocking in and out of your ass.

“Practically sucking me back in aren’t you? That’s all you know how to do isn’t it dear. You only know how to suck me back in like a good little whore hm? You love cock. This is practically your purpose isn’t it.” He growled into your ear, you quickly nodded as he continued to pound into you, your velvety walls clinging to him, making it harder and harder to pull out.

You could feel yourself loosing your mind as he rubbed against your prostate. You’d go dumb for him, just like you always did. Graves loved fucking you in like this. He’d bend you over out on the porch and fuck you dumb, your moans mixing with the songs of the coyotes, you both adored hearing their songs, but he couldn’t help but do you to the screaming songs of those feral dogs. He was a feral dog when it came to you.

When it came to being pulled back in by your perfect ass. You were the best little bimbo he could ever ask for. Something wild and free, he loved your free spirit, how confident you were; the way you crumbled for him. Graves lifted one of your legs up and to the side, hitting even deeper into you and rubbing against your prostate.

Your eyes were rolled back as he came into you, you finished against your tummy and the bedsheets. A chuckle leaving your husband as he pulled you into a loving hug.

#graves cod #graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #gh0vtzb1ogz #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty headcanons #phillip graves #philip graves #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #graves smut #cod smut #cod mwii

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eregyrn-falls-art · 2 years

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Gruß vom Krampus!

December 5th is Krampusnacht, and I've done some pieces related to that over the years. This year I decided to update my depictions of Stan and Ford in the older two pieces (from 2016 and 2017 respectively), and to put the three all together. The original piece from 2016 was done for the 2017 Hunkles calendar (December of course), and the sequel was done for New Years the following year, with the final pic in the sequence appearing in Dec. 2020.

As I said in the original post, my version of the Krampus is based on looking at traditional folk costumes actually worn by krampus figures in Austria for the Krampusnacht festival.

And finally, just to keep it all in one place: after posting the 2020 piece, I got an ask about the little collection of Pines dolls that hang off of Krampus's basket in the second pic, and that Stan is holding in the last pic. I went into a long explanation (including an overview of the Krampus tradition and celebrations), so I'll put it below a cut here:

fernikart57 asked:

In your Krampus art... what's with that belt, neclace, bead (?) of plushes from the Pines Family?

Okay so like… the explanation is probably kind of dumb. And it’s me making stuff up, rather than relying completely on the actual folklore.

So the Krampus figure is actually a collection of figures from Central Europe, particularly in the Alps, and the specific traditions associated with the Krampus can vary from region to region and town to town. Thus, while a set of the Krampus tropes have kind of been exported and caught on in popular culture, that pop culture figure now only resembles *some* Krampus traditions. I don’t think it’s accurate to talk about “a” Krampus or “the” Krampus, exactly, because of that regional variation. It’s also worth noting that Krampus celebrations are very much alive in various towns in the Alps.

Generally speaking, though, Krampus is a “wild man” figure, often with a demonic face (mask), a furry body, and goat-like features (especially horns). There are some theories that the basic figure itself is pre-Christian (like a lot of the wild-man traditions of Central and Northern Europe). (I personally think that’s pretty plausible, given the range of costumes we see.)

After the advent of Christianity, though, the Krampus became associated with “the devil” or demonic figures. And eventually, in a lot of traditions within the Central European mountain area, Krampus got paired with St. Nicholas, as a kind of tag-team. St. Nicholas in those traditions is almost certainly one of the origins of Santa Claus, in that he rewards well-behaved children with presents. (But, traditionally he dresses like a bishop, and not in the outfit that a lot of Americans are familiar with.) The 6th of December is the Feast of St. Nicholas, so Krampusnacht (”Krampus night”) is the 5th of December. And Krampus acts as the opposite of St. Nicholas – if presents are a means of encouraging good behavior, then Krampus is the threat used to discourage bad behavior.

So, some of the accreted trappings of the Krampus are a whip and a bundle of birch branches, for beating children / people, and a basket that he carries on his back, into which he puts the naughty children he finds, to carry them off for punishment. (Obviously, the message there is: don’t be naughty or the Krampus will get you.) A number of the Krampusnacht traditions involve men costumed as Krampus running wild through the streets, threatening people with their birch branches or whips and so on, making noise (thus all of the bells worn around the neck) and kind of terrorizing people (not just kids), as a set-up for St. Nicholas to come in the next day and reassert order. (Sometimes it’s only “terrorizing” in an “all in good fun” sense, similar to Halloween scariness; but apparently in some towns, it can get kind of rough.)

So with all of that background… I was originally just looking for a sort of “crytpid” or monster for Stan and Ford to be fighting, with a December theme, for that 2017 calendar piece. They are encountering more of a magical, “real monster” version (rather than the folkloric ritual version), and therefore I took some liberties with the idea, even though I incorporated a lot of design elements from a variety of real Krampus costumes.

I didn’t want to put any actual children into Krampus’s basket for Ford and Stan to rescue, though (in the original calendar piece, they wouldn’t have been that visible). But when I did the second piece, I included the doll versions of the four Pines, hanging from Krampus’s basket, as a sort of… symbolic magical threat, an expression of the idea that the Pines are its supernatural targets. The dolls act as kind of representations of Krampus’s targets, and I also thought of them, in that sense, as a darker reflection of the St. Nicholas gift-giving tradition (still toys, but toys with a sinister meaning). If Krampus was a “real” supernatural being that goes around punishing the “naughty” or “wicked”… then what is its definition of “wicked”, and would it be a fair one, or unfair?

In this scenario, Stan and Ford are not in the mood to debate with it over whether it is fair to take them to task for being “naughty”, but they are DEFINITELY not going to stand for the idea that the Krampus might go after Dipper and Mabel, so – time to take it down!

Anyway, for more about the actual Krampus, I recommend taking a look at the Krampus article on Wikipedia, or listening to this excellent podcast (which I was listening to as I finished the piece the other day; am very interested in getting that guy’s book!).

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #sea grunks!#krampus #krampusnacht #gruss von krampus!#holidays #folklore #my art #id in alt

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doodle-boy · 3 months

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Ok so I am buzzed on an weird cocktail of ollipop orange soda, bourbon and peach snaps. I'm exhausted from work and just thsi whole week I've been just like out of it and kinda forgot how to person. I'm a cocktail of things drinkin a cocktail of things.

But do any of yall fuckin remember REAL STEEL??

Man that is unironically one of my favorite robot movies and ain't nobody talkin about it!! Like first of all it's got boxing in it, which is always dope as someone who is a big fan of that sport. It's got ROBOTS (duh) and their all really cool designs too. Like you got to see a broad spectrum of different designs and materials used. From ones make like a they a jaguar car with shiny paint and sleep anrodymanic designs. To robots that looked like they were made out of you're old 1994 ford trucks, rusted and banged up. All of them felt like they were inspired by rock'em sock'em robots. with built in headgears and gloves. Some of them even had their neck pop up like the toy did i swear I saw that in a scene in the movie, I'm like 89% sure they made that visual gag at some point. LIKE IT'S SUCH GOOD ROBOT DESIGNS.

Also the fucking animation was really good too??? Like if you go watch a clip of it right now. you will be impressed at how good the lighting is on these robots. And they got DARING with the lighting, day time, night time, during a storm with flashing lightening, back lit by different things, in a dingy hallway, in a professional boxing ring. They did not hesitate to put the models and shaders thew their fuckin paces. Not to mention they put in the effort of adding motion blur and camera blur and close ups and far away shots. And honestly it still fucking holds up, like it legitimately looks good enough that you're brain can very easily accept it into the reality of the world their in.

And this bitch was made in 2011

I've seen movies from the last three years that looked worse than a nobody film about boxing robots.

Think about that.

Also animation aside the story is really nice too. Is it like a super stereotypical 'rookie makes it too the top' type story that is very similar to Rocky? Yes. But you just walked into a fucking boxing movie what did you expect??? Plus that's not the whole picture. It's more than just about a robot who boxes, it about a human man finding his self worth again. About finally connecting to people and himself. It'll make you cry man. It made me cry. I'm crying right now oh my god.

Anyways. peeps need to watch this movie and I need to go lie down.

i'm blazing this because reasons.

lol

#rant #random thoughts #tw drinking #tw drunk #i just love robots man #and i love boxing #i love it #best film #10/10 #real steel #boxing movie #robot movie #movies

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romvnova · 15 days

Text

the most loyal breed

i wrote a thing; i'm definitely rusty and haven't ever written it in second person, present tense before so please be gentle with me. tagging/warnings: consensual but unprotected sex, f!reader x john "soap" mactavish, shifter!soap, breeding kink, swearing, implied ghoap ( if you squint ). part 1 of ??? just pure filth. please read at your own discretion! i am not responsible for minors reading this mature material when you've been clearly warned!

a storm howls as it rages outside your small log cottage concealed high in the forested mountains. the land had belonged to your forebearers and though the trips into town were long and rough in your beat up old 80’s ford ranger, it was worth it for the peace.

usually.

thunder ricocheted above like the crack of a thousand cannons and it was followed by the bursts of light as lightning touched down. it must be close, you can’t feel the heat, but you can hear nature’s electricity sizzle as it scours through the air to the earth.

it makes gooseflesh rise on your arms, fingers once wrapped ‘round your steaming coffee mug as you watch the rain and the wind and the lightening from the comfort of your front porch. or maybe it’s the dark, hulking shape half limping, half lumbering up the gravel drive, from around back of your truck.

for a moment there is a flash of fear, before instinct has you reaching for the shotgun propped against the wall of your home. you’ve never had to actually use it on an animal — or things more sinister — but you had been taught to shoot since before you could walk. coffee mug is set down slowly, carefully to avoid making noise.

shotgun is pressed against your shoulder, finger hovering over the trigger.

“get outta here!” you yell over the storm, moving away from the chairs, away from the wall. last thing you wanted to be was cornered.

the shape lets out a low kneeing whine and continues nearer. your finger tenses over the trigger, pausing only when lightening chases away the shadows: it’s a few seconds. but long enough to realize it’s a dog. the largest belgian malinois you’ve ever seen, sure — about the size of a full grown wolf — but a dog all the same.

the thought that it might be rapid crosses your mind as you lower your weapon and slowly approach the malinois with a tentative hand outstretched.

“hey there, big boy.” you coo, watching as the dog lets out a low whine and butts his muzzle up against your hand. the dynamic immediately changes and you’re coaxing him up the three small steps onto your porch with bits of bacon you’d cooked up to crumble in a pasta dish. he’s weary, hesitant at first. but not of you. he takes the bacon offered to him in a gentle way that makes you confident that he has an owner. or had.

the second confirmation as he stands dripping muddy water all over your freshly cleaned hardwood floors was the wide, dingy army green collar ‘round his neck. faintly, you could make out ‘SARG’ in bold, black stitching.

“sarg?” you ask, the muddy, soaked dog who plops down on his haunches like he’d forgotten he had an injury only to shift his weight with a pained whine. but bless his heart, his tail still wagged furiously behind him.

“where’s your owner, huh?” you ask, making a soft noise in your throat that you hope he understands to make ‘follow’. you aren’t sure what his command words are … but he pads along, nails clicking against the floor.

you give him a bath, using dawn dishsoap in lieu of any sort of dog shampoo, remembering that it was frequently used to clean animals that were covered in oil slick. surely, it could work on mud.

he’s patient and obedient, staring at you with eyes that spoke of an awareness and understanding that felt very un-dog like. but when your heart started to beat faster in your chest, teeth worrying your bottom lip — the thought of him being a skinwalker was almost enough to freeze the blood in your veins — his ears flutter back and he looks at you with eyes the size of saucers, his tail sloshing bathwater too and fro, clicking his teeth and chuffing. beneath the grime, he was not a typical malinois fawn but a dark charcoal color. a mutt, if you had to guess.

it thaws your veins, calms your heart. and you are giggling as you scrub behind his ears, forming the soapy loam into a mohawk atop his head, laughing so hard you had tears as he ‘grins’, showing his sharp teeth in a way that could not be described as threatening in any manner. very unusual for a dog.

and you tended his wound: a nice splice of flesh on his left thigh. even and clean. you had some knowledge of tending to dogs: your grandfather had kept plenty of hunting hounds during his life.

you had felt sure that someone would come looking for him, or ‘LOST DOG’ posters might show up around town. you asked at the local hotspots, even the police station. belgian malinois were working dogs, high energy. destructive when they didn’t get the proper exercise and territorial. you take him with you when you go to town, letting him ride shotgun. he’s highly trained, staying pressed right up against your right thigh the whole time. stepping so that he’s never in danger of being stepped on by you or tripping you.

“well if it ain’t the witch of the woods, come down to grace us with her presence.” drawls one of the locals, loitering outside by your truck at the grocery store. you scowls and put the bags in the truck bed, content to ignore him. sarg’s hackles bristle, upper lip curling from his wicked sharp canines.

“Whats this? got yourself a companion? how sweet.” the condescending tone suggested it was anything but. “you need rescuing from her, huh boy?” harry reaches down to pet him and the very real snap of sarg’s jaws has your teeth clenching, afraid that you would hear those massive teeth crunch through the bones of harry’s hand.

your hand goes to his faded collar — though it was almost laughable. if sarg decided to take off harry’s hand for trying to touch him … there wasn’t anything you were going to be able to do to stop him.

“i’m not keeping him.” though you wonder if you shouldn’t have said that. harry’d always been a bit creepy, though fear of what dwells in woods, old folklore passed down through their generations, kept him at bay. until hunting season. but even then: the time was scheduled and they all stayed clear of your land. and while you’d definitely heard of and believed in the cat distribution system you knew that the dog distribution system wasn’t a thing.

especially not for a working dog like sarg.

“he’s not mine. he has an owner out there somewhere.” but it’d been weeks and there’s been no attempts to find him. “but i’m taking care of him until they come looking for him.”

sarg snaps his teeth again, feigning a surge forth and harry recoils back with a small whimper. you have to hide your laugh as he mumbles a ‘see ya’ and hurries off, almost sprinting across the parking lot.

“hey harry, didn’t your papa ever teach you not to turn your back on a predator?” sarg starts barking then, salvia flying from his jowls; hamming it up. in a way that once again, fills you with a strange sort of suspicion that he was more than he seemed.

but one month weaves itself into two and no one’s come to claim him.

and for the first time since he’d shown up on your doorstep, you left him alone. not long. just long enough to run the few errands you needed to get done. the town had gotten less lax on his presence, afraid that his protectiveness over you might get one of them bit.

it was a valid fear, you knew. you hadn’t raised him, weren’t exactly sure how to handle him.

you are surprised and worried when you aren’t immediately greeted by sarg. it doesn’t feel right considering that the dog walked, lived, breathed in your shadow, always pressed against your thigh anytime you so much as twitched a muscle in movement.

absent. but not just absent. absent with no hint of the destruction you might expect form an high energy breed left alone for the first time since he arrived, limping on your door step; attaching himself to your hip from that very breadth of a second.

but you are surprised to hear the shower, to see the warm glow of the bathroom light seeping through the cracks, following the furling steam.

your family is long gone. none ventured out this way, and the doors and windows were all locked: you check them quickly just to be sure; heart in your throat the entire time.

your steps falter, hesitate at the low moaned “fook, fook, fook—!” as you draw nearer.

you grab the shotgun, and open the door, barrel raised, stock against your shoulder.

“what the fuck—?”

“dannae shoot! dannae shoot! i can explain i —” the man in your shower is clearly struggling to keep his composure, with his hand fisted tightly ‘round his thick, heavy, hard cock. you press the barrel of the shotgun to his temple; watching as his eyes squeeze close.

from fear or the ecstasy as it tips him over the edge to his zenith you couldn’t be sure.

“fookin’ hell.” he raspily pants around the words; voice low, honeyed ( your toes curl and heat pools in your abdomen, stomach swooping and then there’s your outrage, your fear that, that could elicit such a response from you when a strange man was in your shower ! ). he’s haunching in on himself, hips hips bucking up against his hand, thick ropes and virile streams of his seed mess on the shower wall, door and all over his hand.

“what the fuck?” you whisper again, this time quieter, meant for yourself as he pumps his hand a few times, somehow, impossibly, coaxing out more pearlescent spend.

“where the fuck is my dog?!” so many questions vying for their time in the spotlight, burning against your tongue which has grown thick as he scrambles for a towel. your towel, using it to cover himself as if you hadn’t just given a front row seat to his exhibition. you are disgusted and angry and afraid and your nostrils are flaring, taking in the thick scent of musk and your vanilla bean barsoap.

oh gods, he used your soap!

you think of the man versus bear debate and understand why you’d choose the bear as you grit your teeth so tightly they begin to ache.

so, why can’t you shoot?

“it’s — i’m …” he pants as he steps out of the shower, broad freckled shoulders gleaming with water. “lil fox it’s me.” the words tear themselves from his throat in thick scottish brogue as if they physically pained him to say.

he’s bigger than you thought: thick thighed and large. he takes up so much space in your small bathroom; towering over you like a fjord carved titan.

“what?” you ask dumbly, heart still sprinting like a rabbit giving chase.

“ack,” he makes a hurried, almost impatient noise in the back of his throat, one hand clutching the towel to his front as if in the name of decency, and the other running through the short shorn hair atop his head. “it’s me.” he repeats, desperation nesting in his tone, making it’s home. “sergeant. sergeant john “soap” mactavish.”

“sarg.” you whisper, a miasma of emotions surging through you as you stare at him, trying to decide which one you should allow to make its home within your chest, which feels like it’s being constricted; quite painfully.

“aye,” he murmurs morosely, shoulders loosening some now that he was not in danger of his head being blown off, for the shotgun barrel has tipped low in your shock, in your struggle to wrap your mind around what should be impossible.

“you — i —! you. you watched me shower! you —” your cheeks grow heated, breath coming out in rapid and shallow gasps as you careened closer to hyperventilation, glimpsing at the thigh that you had tended to, to find a scar matching sarg’s. accusations stain your teeth. it was a startling confirmation that leaves you feeling a bit out of body. you’d heard the stories of shape shifters. lore was heavy in these mountains, among the people that called it and the town nearby home and though you’d believed enough to make you suspicious you hadn’t thought —

john snatches the shotgun from your numb hands then. you let him.

“you humped my pillow.” you eek out the words, almost tumbling over them. john at least has the decency to look ashamed at that, cheeks flushing; sloe-eyed as he looks anywhere but at you.

“aye,” he swallows thickly. “ye were in heat. i cannae… it’s … in dog form it’s a lot more primal.” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

“humans don’t go into heat.” you tell him numbly.

“ye do,” he counters with a heavy look that leaves gooseflesh along your arms. “once every month right before yer eh, y’know. ‘s when yer most fertile. humans cannae smell it but animals can. i can.”

why does that send another rush of heat to your abdomen? as if snapping out of a daze you do the quick mental math and let out a small noise.

“i can smell it on yer skin, on yer hair.” he murmurs, voice pitching low. a whiskey croon that has your lips parting as his voice slides over your skin like a caress. the heat radiating off him, works to suffocate you and he’s so close but not close enough. saliva pools in your mouth and you swallow and his eyes, intense and focused follow the action with a low growl in his chest. hungry. needy.

“you need to leave.” your words lack the conviction you are aware they should have. a pocketful of lies.

“i cannae leave,” he murmurs heatedly, lips hovering. “i’m yers lil fox.” there is a deeper meaning to those words beyond their face value, his breath twining in your hair, reverberating in your bones. his nose brushes your cheek and you shiver, lashes fluttering as you look down at the strong curve of his collarbone.

“if you were able to change… why didn’t you…?”

“yer consent,” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you were silly for not thinking about it. “and i was weak at first,”

“and then?”

“and then ye were comfortable with the dog form. i didnae wanna scare ye. dinnae wanttae break yer trust.”

his heat is intoxicating, his scent like a siren song coaxing her in now that she was so close. on the precipice of falling into the dark abyss looming below. what beasts awaited her, she could not see. but she knew they were there. and yet, he is like the gravity of a planet and she a solitary moon caught in his orbit.

“and now?” you ask softer still.

of course his supernatural hearing picks it up.

“now, i want tae taste your lips, eat tha’ deliciously sweet cunt until ye be but an incoherent mess and balm the ache with my cock. and stuff ye fit tae burstin’ over and over again with my seed until yer womb quickens with child.”

your mouth is dry; cottony. your fingers aching to touch: yourself or him you couldn’t be sure. both, you think.

if you touch him, you know whatever is left of your veil thin resolve will be rendered useless. torn away so effortlessly by him. by the sirens lilt of his voice, by the burn of those oceanic blues, by those lips parted. your flush grows feverish as you imagine them everywhere, kissing and sucking and those sharp canines marking your flesh.

something very real and palpable tethered you to him, what your grandmother had called a mating bond you think. you’re not sure how you know it so deeply in your soul, in the marrow of your bones but you reach out with tentative fingers to touch his left forearm, tracing the vein from wrist to elbow.

it is you giving consent. john lets out a low growl that immediately melts into your skin, warming you until your clenching your thighs together. the towel is discarded and he is kneeling down, large calloused fingers tugging down your shorts, your panties and shoving his face against your cunt.

a high pitched keening noise leaves your lips, grasping the sink for support, your other fingers finding purchase in the damp hair of his mohawk as he kisses and licks and slurps. one hand holds your thigh tightly, fingers digging into your supple flesh to keep you still, as one finger curls inside and then another when he thinks you are ready, joined soon after by his tongue.

the sloppy noises as he eats you out like a man starving are some of the most filthy, unholy noises you think you’ve ever heard, but you’re moaning and keening and mewling, legs quivering from his ministrations, from the gaelic he purls against your cunt, the praises in english until you are coming all over his tongue, his fingers.

and he’s looking above you like an old god, half forgotten but still very much thrumming with life, lifting you up, hard cock straining against your thigh as he plops you on the small vanity; mindful of his girth as his cock fills the ache of your swollen cunt.

“that’s it… that’s it. fook,” he pants ‘round the word, pushing deeper inside, stilling as he sinks to the hilt as your legs wrap ‘round his waist. his lips are on yours, tongue pushing inside your mouth as he thrusts slowly at first but pace quickens until he’s rutting up and into you, the slap of sweat slicked skin, the breathy and panting kisses: to your lips, your neck, your collarbone where he bites down.

he is surprisingly unvocal now, hand wrapping lightly ‘round your pretty throat as he ruts and rocks into you, staying deep and your breath drags itself from your lips in heavy, desperate pants, hands clinging to his shoulders as the pressure of something foreign both causes pain and equal amounts of pleasure as you can feel him begin to throb within you.

“i ken lil fox,” he croons, thrusts growing shallow but harder; a groan pushing past his lips as he knots tightly within,, balls and cock throbbing against your flesh, within your cunt which fills you with spend with each thrumming throb of his cock. again and again. “nae a drop can spill.” he murmurs against your lips, thumb rolling your swollen clit as he empties himself within you. “that’s my good girl.” he growls against the shell of your ear, licking the side of your sweat slicked face.

it would become your norm, this. johnny, a fixture in your life, your husband. preferring human form but always slipping into dog form when you went into town.

two years later, your toddler, a girl named wren clings to johnny’s leg squealing with undiluted joy during playtime as you make pancakes, a hand rubbing your swelling baby bump.

time freezes when a pounding sounds at the door; an oncoming storm that has finally reached their shores. johnny stills, face paling. violet whines, tugging at his jeans, not understanding before he scoops her into his arms; stiff backed and tense.

“ssh baby bird,” you watch him as he coos to her, opening up the door. the kitchen blocks your view of who’s at the door but you hear his voice meld into your bones like the fires of hell. you picture cerberus, slavering jaws and vicious teeth and cloaked in shadows. “hello johnny.”

“ghost —” your husband’s voice is strained; a low warning threaded in that single syllable. you twist off the stove and move ‘round the kitchen’s island, hand cradling your abdomen, to see the grim reaper at your door cloaked in abysmal shadows and a skull face mask.

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #cod soap #cod fanfic #shifter fanfic #queue the 414 #writings #my stuff

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theresawritesstuff · 7 months

Note

First of all, you are such a talented writer! Love all your work!

My prompt is as follows: Joel and Lenny meet, and Joel slowly realises how much Lenny really means to Midge.

Thank you!

Thank you so much! This was the sweetest message to receive ❤️ Sorry for the delay. Hope it's worth the wait!

It was another packed house.

Ever since she went rogue on the Gordon Ford show Midge had been drawing in crowds all over town. It seemed like every one of her sets, no matter the venue, was a guaranteed sold out show.

The Button Club was no exception.

Two weeks later and Joel still had Mrs. Moskowitz turning folks away at the door so he didn't have the fire marshall breathing down his neck.

He'd had worse problems, that was for sure.

The crowd was eating out of the palm of her hand tonight. It used to bother him but now…

Now he mostly just felt proud.

Mostly…

He looked out over the crowd from his place at the bar, watching the smiling faces watching her with wrapped attention when he noticed a man enjoying the show from the back of the room who'd managed to sneak in late.

He was about to tell him they were at capacity when the man turned for a cigarette and he was able to better to see his face.

Wait. Was that…

Holy shit it was Lenny Bruce! Lenny Bruce was in his club. The Lenny Bruce! At the Button Club! His Button Club!

Holy shit…

Joel poured himself a quick shot at the bar to drown out his nerves before rounding the bar to go talk to him.

Lenny Bruce was in his club!

He cleared his throat. "Mister Bruce? Hi. Joel Maisel. I'm the owner."

Lenny turned to acknowledge him at his elbow, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Oh hey. Got a light I could bum?"

"''Course! Of course." Joel cleared his throat as he fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. "Thanks for joining us tonight."

"Sure."

"Are you enjoying the show?"

Lenny smiled to himself, taking a drag. "It would be hard not to. Midge is really on her game tonight. Then again, she's always sensational."

"Yeah. Yeah, she is, isn't she?"

Joel nodded along, looking off at the stage with what could surely only be described as a dopey grin.

Lenny Bruce was in his club!

Then it hit him.

"Sorry…You know Midge?" he wondered, confused.

Lenny shrugged. "I did once upon a time. It's been a while. Hope to again if she'll let me…"

"Right…"

Joel's brow furrowed as he puzzled the cryptic reply.

He didn't have long to mull it over however, as Midge made her way across the room, her set finished for the evening.

"I thought that was you I saw lurking," she teased, greeting Lenny with a warm, if somewhat surprised smile. "What are you doing here?"

Lenny chuckled. "Well I heard a rumor some cute uptown chick shanghaied Gordon Ford's air time and has been killing it in every club she goes in ever since. Seemed like something I should check out for myself."

Her smile softened as she raised a brow. "Called me cute, huh?"

The comedian shrugged almost sheepishly, holding her gaze with equal softness.

Joel cleared his throat, interrupting whatever moment was happening between the two performers.

"Well we're certainly glad you could join us," he interjected, feeling the need to remind them he was still there.

He couldn't say why, exactly. It wasn't like she and Lenny were close or anything…

Right?

Midge shook her head, her attention still on Lenny. "It's funny. That set almost didn't happen but…"

Lenny cocked a curious brow as she hesitated, looking at her shoes.

Wait, was she blushing?

"I remembered what you said that night," she confessed.

"That you're more important than God?" Lenny wondered with a smirk.

Midge rolled her eyes fondly. "Not that."

She glanced up at the comedian, then away as she pulled a little slip of paper out from where she had been keeping it tucked within the neckline of her dress. "I,um… I found it in my notebook just before. Took it on set with me for luck. It worked so…"

She shrugged lightly, folding it back over carefully in her hands.

Joel blinked, looking from her to Lenny and back again.

She'd been keeping it, whatever it was, with her for every performance since the Gordon Ford Show.

Not just with her, but in her dress!

Because of something Lenny had said to her.

Because it was from a time, a night, that they'd shared…

"Glad to see you found your spotlight," Lenny murmured.

Joel felt his hands grow clammy, his throat go tight.

He knew from the talk around the club scene that Lenny hadn't been in New York for quite a while.

How long had this been going on?

"Can I buy you a drink? Catch up?" Lenny asked her, sounding tentative but hopeful.

So hopeful.

Just what exactly was there to catch up on?

"I'm actually kind of hungry," Midge admitted. "You wanna get out of here? Get some sensationally mediocre Chinese food?"

Lenny smiled. "I know just the place. You remember our deal?"

"Yes. I'm buying," Midge laughed, turning to Joel expectantly, suddenly remembering he was there. "Think I can get my payment now instead of later? Sounds like I've got a date."

"Y-yeah. Sure…" Joel stammered, glancing between the pair.

"Great! I'll just grab my coat and we can go," Midge promised, touching Lenny's arm.

Joel watched her walk off towards the back room, looking back at Lenny utterly baffled.

Lenny shrugged, patting his shoulder as he moved to wait by the door.

"Thanks for the light. Nice place you got here."

"Y-yeah…S'cuse me."

Joel took off to follow Midge into the back, shaking his head.

He watched her a moment from the office doorway as she put on her coat.

"So. You and Lenny…"

She shrugged in reply, but her smile said it all.

Fuck…

"Were you ever planning to tell me?" he wondered.

"Nope." She picked up the envelope with her money inside from his desk, strolling out of the office. "Have a nice night, Joel. See you Wednesday with the kids."

"Later Midge," Archie greeted, popping into the office for more bar napkins. "Great set tonight."

Archie turned to him. "Hey did you see the guy who looked just like Lenny Bruce?"

He heaved out a sigh.

Midge was fucking in love with Lenny Bruce...

"I'll be at the bar."

#midge x lenny #tmmm fic #Prompt fill #People are very nice and I am very slow #midgelenny

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ragaatz · 5 months

Text

Graves is such a fun piece of shit to think about. Just his fucking thoroughly and insurmountably American sense of infallibility crossbred into a notion of immortality that is purpose built into white straight American men—he can’t die or be sick or become prey, that shit happens to other people.

Like this dude has the stench of legacy on him. Could’ve been an officer, but, nah, has something to prove. Feels like a perpetual second place finishes with a grudge. Maybe had an older brother he was always only just trailing, but could never meet neck and neck, let alone surpass. Dad probably kept the oldest on his hip, a big fucking iron to fire at Phillip. Bet Phillip had to fight for every scrap of attention that man ever showed him, and still Dad only called for the oldest on his deathbed, reaching out to the oldest while life support could not save his dying body.

Did it matter that the oldest was dead, and that death is what put the old man in the ground? Did it matter that he reached for the oldest, but he found Phillip instead? Did it matter that at the very last breath, Dad—the Major, the Man, the Master of the Fucking Universe—couldn’t tell the godDAMNED DIFFERENCE between the two of them?

And, haha, what the fuck would that matter anyway? C’mon now. Phillip always knew the bitter old fuck put his money on the wrong horse. And, besides that, he was dumb. Stupid as a motherfucker, even, for putting all of his eggs in one basket. They all splattered when the basket wrapped itself around a tree doing 90 on those back roads. Got dark at night around Fort Hood, where the oldest was stationed, where the oldest started drinking and stopped talking after something bad happened.

The baby of the family ran off long before that, though, like a fuckin’ traitor. Of course, he’s a middle child, and of course he’s the only one that stuck around. Someone had to, for Chrissake. The oldest was too busy playing daddy’s golden goose, and the fuckin’ baby ran away to Smith College, dyed her hair purple, started fuckin’ women, and stopped shaving her fucking armpits. SOMEONE had to fucking STAY.

Phillip was the right choice for it.

I mean, c’mon, haha.

He was the only choice.

We all know that.

I mean, he’s a good country boy. A real red-blooded American male. And what good ol’ boy working stick around to make sure his mom was all set and taken care of? After all, she’s lost so much. A good woman like that shouldn’t have to go through so much grieving in one life. And any southern son worth his salt would say they love their mama.

And Phillip does. He loves his mom. Does the whole shebang. When he made made it through Ranger school, he bought her yellow roses. When he left the Rangers to start Shadow Company, with his dad’s dear old friend General Shepherd playing mentor and high roller, he bought her a house. When Shadow Company started rolling in that fuckin’ mad money, he bought her a goddamned Yorkie that pisses on EVERYTHING in the GODDAMNED FUCKING HOUSE.

But that’s what you do for mom. Tiffany silver on Mother’s Day, a Ford Expedition on her birthday. What’s the point of having credit cards if they aren’t constantly maxed the fuck out and bleeding your credit score down to nothing like a pig with a slit throat?

Haha, I mean, c’mon.

He loves his mom. Even if she can be a nagging bitch a lot of the time, and the most demanding, selfish, ungrateful, cold-ass woman he’s ever met in his life. And she just looks at him in a weird way that makes him want to snap her wrist, and he could do it, and she probably doesn’t even know he can. Doesn’t even know how close he’s come to executing it.

But, you know. That’s how moms are. Just women in general. They tend to get their panties in a twist and shutdown. It’s what his mom did at his wedding. It’s what his wife did right before the divorce. But, wow, helluva ceremony. His girl was a smoke show, a real fuckin’ rodeo queen. But a guy makes one mistake and fucks a little slip of a thing while he was overseas for months on end, and that’s not forgivable. Would’ve never even come up, if the stupid bitch didn’t show up on his goddamned doorstep wanting to surprise him.

#draft

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zappedbyzabka · 11 months

Note

It's around Prom season/almost past. And got a couple ideas for you. 1. Daniel goes outside after having his break up with Ali and is pissed and sees Johnny smoking an awful blunt, because the poor guy can't seem to roll anything worth smoking. But he's trying. And something Ali said is sticking Daniel wrong, that maybe she was just a convenient excuse between two idiots and he thinks about how angry he's been for months because after the tournament Johnny's left him alone. Which is what he wanted right? But there was something that felt so intimate about their fight about the thrill of winning and seeing the way Johnny had looked at him afterwards, drenched in sweat from the fight and then the irrational anger at seeing him distant at school, closed in by his cobras who still touch him but avoiding Daniel and there he is, alone at prom, and maybe Daniel's a little drunk, maybe a cobra spiked the punch but he's mad and it suddenly clicks seeing that cherry red burn of a comically small blunt around soft pink lips and the soft fluff of his hair that this is what he wanted. Ever since the beach. Maybe Ali was right. Maybe, like Mr. Miyagi said it's best not to leave people waiting too long, and Daniel goes for it, takes the blunt, says let's get out of here, takes Johnny's hand, delighted when he doesn't pull away and pulls him to his Ford and decides to take him somewhere better, somewhere where they can see the city and maybe Daniel teaches Johnny how to blow smoke rings and then kisses him and fucks him in the back of the Ford, or outside in the grass and that annoyance he'd been feeling for months is soothed by the way Johnny clings to him and begs for more. 2. Someone dares Johnny to attend prom in a dress and Daniel decides he has to be the one to dance with Johnny all night, and at first Johnny thinks it's a joke, that Daniel's teasing him and making fun of him but then he realizes how turned on Daniel is and decides to go for it but then has to figure how to keep his dress clean when Daniel's touching him.

Thank you for sharing these wonderful ideas!👀 I’m so sorry I didn’t reply to this around prom season

:( <3

They went somewhere nice, somewhere clear, where they could just sit and watch the stars shine—but ended up watching each other instead. Johnny thought all those smoke rings were pretty cool and took in Daniel’s instructions before attempting them himself.

And after he got all proud of himself after successfully doing one, Daniel kissed him. Gentlemenly, yet eager and in control. Johnny made a sweet noise against his mouth and allowed Daniel’s tongue in the second Daniel told him to "Open up, sweetheart, come on."

He pushed Johnny to the grass with zero fight, and their hands wandered all over one another.

Some of that pent up frustration eases just from Johnny laid out beneath him like a damn 5-course meal, flushed down to his neck and glassy eyed, pupils blown, lips parted, and a little puffy. Daniel felt pride in his chest; this is the Johnny he knew was in there.

Some more of that frustration let up when he got to see more of him, rucking up his shirt and tugging off his tight jeans. Daniel wanted to fucking eat him, the way his cute dick dripped and that rack of his looked in the moonlight. When he pushed inside Johnny, he forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could watch that pretty face as he did so. But Johnny looked up at him like he was falling in love, and Daniel just had to kiss him; it’s like their lips were just meant to be pressed against each other. They’re two puzzle pieces, it’s true.

And Johnny’s frustration hadn’t much to do with Daniel but with himself. So filled with guilt for losing, for not being good enough, for hurting Daniel—all of it. He didn’t know what to do; he had no one but his cobras. But having Daniel walk up to him and take his panic spliff was what he needed. Listening to his voice as he explained how to do the rings—so patient and gentle with him, unlike Kreese—was like a dream. Getting fucked by him is like heaven, and he’d love to have Daniel inside him every damn day until he dies. He thanks Daniel.

He hopes one day he’ll be folding their laundry while Daniel cooks them dinner in their kitchen. He hopes he’ll finally be good.

2. YES. I’m an absolute sucker for Johnny, a pretty thing wearing a pretty thing.

Tommy dared him almost every year to wear one, sometimes he’d even have recommendations for what kind of dress he should wear specifically. It was always easy to tell when he was watching too many of those fashion shows when he’d start saying things like "bodice". Johnny had decided to just give in; he’d always liked dresses in secret anyway, and if anyone asked, he could tell them to fuck over or tell them about the 50 dollars Tommy promised him, then the added 30 Dutch promised if he actually did it.

He went with something that actually fit well on him—which was hard but also strangely not given his waist-to-chest ratio

(This, maybe in blue.)

Even if he was joking, he didn’t want to be seen as a joke.

He was nervous, a little worried about how people would react to him like this when he always acts so tough, but why does wearing pretty things make him weak? He could kick all their asses in a dress in heels and is willing if anyone says anything.

He danced with Bobby for a bit when they got there, allowing him to help him relax a little and let loose. Bobby was surprisingly into having people's attention on him, Johnny thinks it’s because he was in a choir when he was younger.

Johnny still ended up sitting in a corner with Jimmy, who had left the girl he was dancing with to sit with him.

"Why’d you leave her hanging?"

"I didn’t; I just wasn’t interested in doing that anymore."

"Why?"

"She said Tortoises were boring. When they live, like, hundreds of years. Pfft. She’s lame."

"Oh, yuck. Turtles are cool. But you want to sit here instead because of that?"

"Tortoises. Least until I hear a good song or one of the other guys gets me. And maybe I just wanted to keep you company."

Johnny smiles and rests his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He can always count on them.

But that’s also why Daniel is stewing in jealousy when he walks up to Johnny and asks him for a dance, pointedly not looking at Jimmy.

Johnny purses his lips, looking over at Jimmy, having a conversation with just their expressions. "Okay. I’ll bite. But if you—"

"I won’t pull anything—"

Johnny makes a zip-it motion with his fingers, and Daniel’s mouth snaps shut. "As I was saying, if you attempt to mess up my dress, I’ll kick your ass."

"I believe it. So…dance with me?"

Johnny agrees, taking Daniel’s hand and dragging him over to the dance floor. He can still feel how sweaty Daniel’s hands are through his lace gloves. "Why are your hands so sticky?"

He was sweating a lot; he does when he’s upset, he does when he’s jealous—pretty much any strong emotion. "It’s hot in here."

"They have the AC blasting, but alright."

Johnny stops, turning around to face him and throwing his arms over Daniel’s shoulders. Daniel rests his hands on Johnny’s waist; the fabric of the dress feels nice. They start to sway.

Johnny stares at the banner behind Daniel.

"Trying a new style? You look, uh, really pretty."

Yikes, Daniel thinks. Is Johnny okay with "pretty"?

"Don’t make fun of me, punk"

Daniel shakes his head, his hair moving with it, and squeezes his waist assuringly. "I wouldn’t do that. I meant it, you look good."

Johnny studies his face for a moment, then smiles. "Oh. Thanks."

Daniel is a cute guy for sure.

Daniel nods, wracking his brain for other things to say—the perfect thing that will get Johnny on a date with him—or in the janitors closet with his skirt rucked up his legs while Daniel—

"You look good too. Really good. I like your suit, it’s very…blue."

"Like your eyes, I guess we match." Daniel grins up at him.

"Guess we do. You trying to copy me?""

Daniel shrugs. "Maybe I am."

Johnny's brows crease, then he laughs.

It’s comfortable, not weird like either of them thought it would be—were scared that it would be. Johnny presses his forehead against Daniel’s, and they listen to the music."

"This is the sound!

Always slipping from my hands

Sand's a time of its own

Take your seaside arms and write the next line

Oh! I want the truth to be known…"

Daniel encircles his arms around Johnny. "Hope they play Speedwagon."

Johnny pulled away then, and Daniel’s arms tightened around him.

"You like Speedwagon?"

"Uh, duh? Only people with bad taste don’t I mean, in my opinion, obviously, if you don’t like them, that’s—"

"Shut up, I love Speedwagon, Daniel. Why didn’t you tell me you had good taste in music before? I coulda’ shown you my cassettes and CD’s!"

He pushes Daniel away and grabs his hand again, pulling him over to where Dutch was sitting instead of Jimmy and shoveling chips from the vending machine into his mouth.

"Hey, man! Can you tell the other guys I’ll be in the parking lot? I’m showing LaRusso my mixes."

Dutch glares at Daniel, lip twitching like he’s disgusted, then looked back up at Johnny. "You gonna hang alone with this dick? Why don’t I come with—"

"Come on, Dutch. It’s fine, okay? Nothing to worry over. We’ll be back." He ruffled Dutch’s hair. "And remember, you owe me thirty in cash."

He blows a kiss at Dutch, who points a middle finger at him as he walks away.

"I’ll kill him if he tries anything, Johnny. I’m not afraid to go to prison!"

Johnny snorts, and Daniel laughs weakly.

"That’s scary."

"He doesn’t mean it, okay? He’s just a worrier."

"But what if he did?"

"Then I’d tell him to stop, simple."

That does make Daniel feel a little better. Dutch may be as aggressive and ready to attack as a wild dog, but he almost always listened to Johnny (and sometimes Bobby.)

He leads him to the parking lot, letting go of Daniel’s hand to unlock the door. Daniel missed the warmth; he wanted to know every line on Johnny’s hand.

"Get in the back. It’s cozier."

Johnny winks at him, and Daniel’s heart pounds, hard on aching. Normally he’d question, but…

He opens the car door and slides onto the seat. It smells like cigarettes and cologne—not Johnny's, though. Johnny always smelled like soap and musk (which had a sweet tinge to it.) He wonders if there’s a little unused bottle of some expensive scent sitting on Johnny’s dresser. He doesn’t know what Johnny’s home life is like, his mother is never at any of his practices, not like Lucille.

Johnny gets in next to him and locks the doors, leaning between the two front seats to dig in his glove box, his dress riding up his thighs. What’s he wearing under there?

"Ah ha!" Johnny exclaims, presenting a CD. "Speedwagon: Lost in a Dream."

He starts the engine and feeds it to the radio, settling back down with his leg pressed against Daniel’s as the music starts up.

"Give me a ride on your roller coaster

Give me a thrill, I can't help feelin' bored…"

Daniel keeps his breathing even, looking at the interior. "I like your car."

"Thanks, Dutch and I did a little remodeling."

They seem pretty close… "Oh, cool."

Johnny thinks about Daniel in his convertible, as an old man, rolling around in it and telling people about the good ole’ days. He wants to be there with him. "Yours is pretty rad too. Outdated and small, but still."

"Hey!"

Johnny snorts, slapping Daniel’s shoulder. "Cool it. Smaller cars are faster!"

Daniel rolls his eyes with a smirk.

They hardly bother to nod their heads to the music before they’re latched onto each other's mouths, magnetitized. They both knew why they were relly there.

Johnny swings his leg over and straddles Daniel, pulling at his inky hair and rocking his hips in his lap, pressing his ass purposefully against Daniel’s crotch, causing him to groan against his lips, a noise Johnny devours.

"Can…fuck….can I get my hands under here, sweetheart? Is that okay?" Daniel asks breathlessly, his fingers kissing the edge of Johnny’s dress.

Johnny nods, and Daniel wasted zero time, greedy hands shoving under and grabbing at what he could.

Is that more lace?

"Jimmy threw in another 20 if I wore them." Johnny explains, leaning down to kiss up his face. "And I already had them. Easy cash."

Daniel lets out an almost pained chuckle "You’re killing me, honey. Tell my mother I said I love her at my funeral."

Johnny reaches between them and unbuttons Daniel’s pants. "Don’t talk about your mom right now, weirdo. Touch me instead, come on."

Daniel gasps and grabs handfuls of Johnny’s ass for support when he starts grinding faster. "Johnny—"

"Y'know, I want you to fuck me, been wanting it."

Daniels gulps. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Been using my fingers while thinking about you, but it’s not enough. Need you to put it in me, Daniel, I want it."

He sounds so whiny, and Daniel is going to cum in his pants prematurely.

"Actually?"

"Yeah, actually. I can take it so good, just you wait."

"Tonight? Like now?"

Daniel lays his head back against the seat, getting closer to the edge at just thoe thought. He’s always thought about Johnny, even when he tried not to. Countless night of jerking himself off to the thought of that ass and pretty face. Does he mean tonight? Is he going to let him do it right here?

"No, LaRusso, not tonight, unfortunately. Can’t let you get my dress dirty, and we’re on a timer."

"Timer?"

"The Cobras are going to check on me soon enough, and if it’s Dutch he'll start a scene."

Ah, right. So is this it for now? He’s grateful, but…

Johnny gets off his lap and back into the seat next to Daniel, taking his arms out of the sleeves of his dress pushing the top down to his hips. He put a hand on Daniel’s thigh.

Daniel really wants to bury his face against Johnny’s chest.

Johnny's lips are moving.

"We can still go all the way, just not tonight. But I can suck it."

Daniel breathes out shakily. Thank god. He nods his head clumsily, and Johnny tugs down his boxers.

Johnny looks captivated. "Wow, man. You’re like…way bigger than I pictured. Fuckin freak of nature having a cock like this with that stick body."

Long and thick, tan and curved. Johnny needs it.

Daniel would usually be annoyed at that, but it sounds like a compliment coming from Johnny, and he’s really, really desperate to get his dick wet. Thanks, I guess."

Johnny hums, then leans down, back arched, so Daniel still has a good view of his ass. He takes the tip into his mouth and sucks.

Daniel keeps himself still, fighting not to buck his hips and choke Johnny. His mouth is so perfect. Hot and slick. He can’t even imagine what the other end of him would feel like.

Johnny swirls his tongue, wrapping a hand around Daniel and taking his mouth off the head for a moment, opening wide and just resting Daniel’s dick there, shaking his head to rub his tongue on it and looking up at Daniel.

"Johnny…you, god, you—"

Johnny giggles, letting his eyes flutter shut as he takes Daniel down his throat this time like a pro.

Daniel chokes on his spit, putting a shaky hand on the dip of Johnny’s back when he really wants to reach farther and squeeze.

Johnny looks up at him again, wiggling his hips a little in a clear invitation that Daniel takes readily, resting his hand on Johnny’s firm ass and patting it before giving it a good grope.

Johnny whimpers, sneaking a hand between his own legs to touch himself through his underwear, which are already damp with precum.

Daniel’s eyes are squeezed shut, and throaty noises escape him as Johnny bobs his head. He looks so hot; Johnny speeds up his hand and takes him down to the base, keeping himself there and waiting.

Daniel peers down at him. "Johnny?"

Johnny lifts his head up again, then drops back down. Doing that a few more times and effectively fucking his mouth with Daniel’s cock.

"What are you doing?"

Johnny picks up Daniel’s other hand and puts it on the back of his head. "Mm!"

Johnny want him to….

He fists Johnny’s hair, still gentle as he can be with it, and pulls his head up so some of his length slips from his mouth, then shoves him back down on it.

God that feels so good. "Is this alright? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Johnny replies, arching more into the hand on his ass and speeding up the hand between his legs. Daniel keeps doing it.

He takes a leap, licking the pads of two of his fingers before slipping his hand down the back of Johnny’s underwear and lightly rubbing them on his hole. He wants to be inside it so, so bad. He presses down a little more when he feels Johnny swallow around him, and the tip of his middle accidentally slips in.

Johnny chokes, and his whole body tenses, his thighs pressingand whines leaving his mouth as he cums, too drunk on it to feel embarrassed yet.

Daniel feels very pleased with himself. "God, Johnny, I’m gonna…Where do I….?"

He pulls Johnny all the way off by his hair, swearing to commit the sight of Johnny’s debauched face—his mascara a mess on his cheeks and his lipgloss smeared all over Daniel’s—to memory.

"In my mouth." Johnny croaks, holding Daniel’s forearm for support. "Please."

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”

Daniel bites his lip and fills Johnny’s mouth again, letting him lead the pace.

Johnny suckles around him, wriggling his tongue on the underside on every downstroke, and doing his damndest to push Daniel over the edge; it works.

Johnny drinks down every drop that Daniel gives him, pulling off and sticking out his tongue while he wrings Daniel’s cock for more until he pushes his hand away with a pained noise.

Johnny rests his cheek on Daniel’s thigh as they both catch their breath.

"Wow, Johnny, that was—"

Johnny sits up quickly, grabbing a box of tissues from under the passenger seat and wiping his face vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, it was really fuckin’ good, Daniel, but I’d suggest tidying yourself up so we don’t have issues with—Tommy is literally walking out the entrance, man."

Daniel jumps into action, running his fingers panickedly through his hair and stuffing his dick back in his trousers.

There’s a knock at the window; they barely managed.

Johnny leans across Daniel’s lap and turns the crank. "Hey, buddy! You’ve been out here a while. All good?"

He gives Daniel a suspicious look.

"Yeah, man, all good. We were actually just about to head back inside."

Tommy hums. "Why do you sound like that? You getting sick?"

Tommy reaches through the window and puts his hand on Johnny’s cheek. "You’re burning up!"

Johnny lightly smacks it away. "I’m fine, was just singing to the music and got a little hoarse and sweaty."

Tommy raises a brow, but leaves it be. "Alright. We’re missing ya in there, J, so hurry."

"For sure."

Johnny starts shutting the window before Tommy can say anything, and Tommy puts a hand to his heart dramatically before laughing and turning to head back inside.

Johnny turns to Daniel. "One more kiss?"

Daniel smiles and leans in.

#lawrusso #nsft #safety first #I Made it a little fast paced #Daniel is nervous. He’s gonna be A LOT more filthy with his words the next time he sees Johnny

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multifandomfanfiction · 2 years

Text

I Wanna Dance with Somebody Chapter 6

TITLE: I Wanna Dance with Somebody Chapter 6 PAIRING: Willard/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 6/? SUMMARY: Molly has just moved to Bomont with her older brother Ren after the death of their mother. Where Ren gets into trouble, Molly tries to remain invisible. That is until an awkward country boy tries to befriend her. Can Willard help her regain the confidence she lost? And more importantly, will he help her to dance again?

[A/N - Willard drives a Ford Bronco (totally not because of Rooster) and no one can tell me differently. This chapter also contains discussions of suicide attempts and depression.]

The next afternoon, Molly walked out to the school parking lot and panicked when she didn’t see Ren’s car. She pulled out her phone to see if she had missed a call or text from her brother but there was nothing.

How was she supposed to get home now? She guessed she could walk, but it would be dark by the time she got home.

A beat-up Ford Bronco pulled up in front of her.

“Need a ride?” Willard asked.

Molly nodded.

Willard got out and ran over to the passenger side door. “Can I…?” He reached for her waist and Molly nodded. Willard effortlessly picked her up and set her on the truck seat.

Molly tried not to blush at how strong he was.

He probably helped out on his family’s farm or something like that. Willard climbed back into the driver’s seat and started to pull out of the school parking lot. “You want me to drop you at home?” Willard asked her.

Molly looked over at him and shook her head.

“Where do you wanna go?”

She shrugged.

Willard smiled. “I know where we can go.”

They drove down a dirt road until they came to a gate.

Willard got out and opened it before climbing back into the truck.

There was a barn and a tractor in the distance.

Willard parked the truck and helped Molly out. He walked over to the tractor and started climbing up. “You ever been on a tractor, darlin’?” Willard asked.

Molly shook her head. “Well climb on up.”

Molly climbed up the steps with Willard’s help.

“Better hold onto something,” he told her. He turned the key and hit the gas pedal.

Molly yelped as they started moving and threw her arms around Willard’s neck.

Willard laughed as he drove the tractor towards the barn. He parked it in front of the doors and they climbed down. “I like to go here to think,” he told her.

They went inside the barn and up to the hayloft.

Willard walked over to an ice chest and pulled out two sodas. “They may be a little warm. Sorry.”

Molly took one from him and took a sip.

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to eat in front of me.” Willard sat down next to her, telling her about football practice and funny stories about Woody until his voice became serious.

“Yesterday at the track…you um…you yelled your brother’s name,” Willard told her, “I don’t know if you realized you did it.”

Molly shook her head, playing the tab on her soda can. She’d apparently talked in front of him without knowing it, so it shouldn’t be hard just talking to him right? “Was scared.”

Her voice was soft, but Willard heard it. He smiled. “You talked to me!”

Molly blushed, resisting the urge to chew on her hoodie so she played with her cuffs instead.

“Why do you wear that hoodie everywhere?” Willard asked.

Molly looked up at him.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

But Molly did want to tell him. Somehow.

Molly unzipped her hoodie, revealing a tank top underneath. She slipped it off her arms and showed Willard her wrists.

There were two deep cuts going across them.

“You…you tried to kill yourself?” Willard asked.

Molly nodded. “After my mother died.” Her voice was still soft, but less of a whisper this time.

Willard was beginning to think that was just how it was. Willard smiled hearing her accent. “Your accent is just so cute!”

Molly blushed and covered her face with her hands.

Willard laughed and pulled them away. “Don’t. It’s cute when you blush.”

Molly looked down at her hands with a small smile.

“For what it’s worth…I’m really glad you didn’t kill yourself. ‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you.”

Molly looked up and saw a sincere look on Willard’s face.

Most people were condescending to her when they found out. Telling her things like “Just go outside and take a walk. You’ll feel so much better!” or “Your mother is in a better place. Think about that.” Saying things like that to a depressed person wasn’t helpful.

After her suicide attempt, Molly went into treatment.

Treatment her brother spent every last cent he had to pay for.

She’d come to terms with her mother’s death and was working on getting better. Ren and her could’ve stayed in Chicago since Ren was nearly of age, but he decided that maybe Bomont would be good for her.

Molly surprised both herself and Willard by cupping Willard’s face in her hands and kissing him. It was a short kiss, more of a long of the lips, but no less special.

“Slap me if I’m out of line, but…was that your first kiss?” Willard asked.

Molly nodded. She’d never had a boyfriend or anything even resembling a romantic relationship.

“Well I’m honored, darlin’. I should get you home before it gets too late.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They pulled up the Warnicker house and Willard turned the truck off.

Molly turned and looked at Willard. “Thank you, Willard.”

Willard smiled. He’d never get tired of hearing her voice. “Anytime, darlin’.”

Molly was about to get out of the truck when she turned back to Willard. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Before she could pull away, Willard cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss.

Molly’s hand came up to grab at the collar of his t-shirt. Molly whined when Willard pulled away.

“Easy there. Not that I don’t wanna continue, but we’re sittin’ in front of your house.”

Molly nodded and moved away from him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Willard said. He gently kissed her lips and Molly got out of the truck.

She watched as he pulled back out onto the dirt road until she couldn’t see him anymore. Molly sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Crushing on and kissing her brother’s best friend? What had she gotten herself into?

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @urmomssidehoeposts @multiple-fandoms-girl @shiny-captain-no-pants

#willard hewitt #Willard Hewitt imagines #willard/oc #footloose 2011 #footloose 2011 imagines #miles teller #miles teller imagines

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terrence-silver · 2 years

Note

What are some sweet things 80’s and Old Man Terry would say to beloved?

-”I won’t bullshit you. I consider myself a...as say they, connoisseur of the finer things in life. Yeah, I enjoy a good car or two. Good wine. Suits. A nice view. And you. You’re one of the finer things I own. The finest. All of this? It’s worth shit next to you. Would you believe that? Because it’s true.”-

-”Of course they’re all staring! I mean, look at you! Everyone else is a piss poor excuse for beauty in this city, except for you --- and you’re all mine.”-

-”When you reach my particular age, your focus clears. Life boils down to essentials. Boils down to a big beachside house and the good company of someone who you can tell anything --- and you know me. Inside out. You know what and who I am. I think that’s something. More than you know.”-

-”No shit you need to be treated! Who do you think I am!? If I say you deserve it, you deserve it! I don’t care what you say!”-

-”Is it wrong that I’m pissed off!? That I didn’t know you sooner? Because I am, and if I wanna fucking drink to drown that crap, then I’ll drink to drown that crap and if I’m perfectly clear, I don’t think all the Whiskey in that cellar will cut it, my dear.”-

-”When those bad memories come, all the bullshit and everything that’s better forgotten, you’re all there is. Did you know that?”-

-”Monogrammed, carved white silver from the Bahia emerald collection. It’s one of a kind. An old family heirloom. It belonged to my mother back in the days and it fits your finger perfectly. Had it slightly tweaked. I want you to have it. Wear it.”-

-”Of course I’m jealous! Are you crazy!? Who isn’t jealous of something invaluable!?”-

-”Look at me. I said look at me! Don’t you ever dare say something like that about yourself in front of me or behind my back ever again. Don’t do it in my company, in front of others or anywhere, ever. Are we clear? Why? What do you mean ‘why’!? Because it’s crap and it’s all lies!”-

-”You sure know how to make an old man feel happy.”-

-”Me and John, we had a good friend in ‘Nam. A real joker. It was always us three. He went by Ponytail, because he had this thin wisp of greased up hair tied at the nape of his neck and our commanding officers always yelled at him for it to cut it off and be presentable. He never did. Died stubbornly wearing it, poor sucker. I wear it for him now. He’d like you a lot, you know?”-

-”Sit with me. I want to play you a special song.”-

-”I could keep you safe. Protected. Taken care of. In every sense.Think about it? Think about a life where they’re all too afraid to look at you? Touch you? Ever hurt you again? Where there’s nothing to be lacked for because I’ll provide everything? All I ask in return is your love Devotion. Let me do it. Let me prove my loyalty.”-

-”Yeah, I’ve seen and done pretty much all of it. Is it bad that I’m content just being here with you until the end?”-

-”Never really talked about this to anyone, but when I was a kid, I was a skinny sort. Wimpy. Scrawny. They used to call me Twig in the army. Sappy bullshit. Hated that nickname and I hated that kid. There was very little to be content about back then, but I like to imagine you were there somehow with me from day one.”-

-”Remember when I pulled up that old Ford and put on those clothes and went around pretending I was some poor asshole to mess around that Larusso kid a few years ago? Yeah. Those were the days. Sometimes I still think about that. Think about us just being, hopping into that car and getting the fuck out of here.”-

-”C’mon. Read to me. I need to hear it in your voice.”-

-”You make me feel young again.”-

#i jumbled up dialogues for old man terry and 80's terry #and you guys can decide which is which to you #because they're for the most part interchangable #not all --- but some #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #80's terry silver #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #fluff #romance

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