Issyis - Lets Get Crazy - Tumblr Blog

folklore masterlist ✩ jake sully

chapters ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

i. this is me trying

ii. peace

iii. epiphany

iiii. hoax

v. invisible string

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How I Met Your Grandma

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Masterlist

This story is on hiatus!!

I do not know when I will get time or inspiration to finish it. Feel free to read on below but even if I add to my taglist don’t expect updates.

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My Chemical Rickmance Pt. 3

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Warnings: language, drug use, smut Word Count: 3.1k

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Link

The first thing Rick sees is your bright red panties strewn across an overturned lamp. He clocks the alien hookah, your disheveled hair, the smell of sex, the fact that you’re one hit away from fucked up.

It’s the hologram wannabe Flesh Curtains that piss him off the most, though. Seeing you like that, freshly fucked, chest heaving over some knockoff him. He tries to conjure the most unsexy thing he can think of, but the image of your soft thighs straddled tightly around his lap is seared into memory.

Rick pulls out a freeze ray to zap the lookalikes, and you yell out in slurred protest as they crystallize before your eyes.

“You froze them,” you whine lamely, trying to lift yourself up off the couch.

“Y-you can’t freeze holograms, d-dip knob.” He scoops you up from the tangle of limbs, handling you by the armpits like you’re a petulant toddler in need of discipline. “And the low-lifes synced up to the holograms—the fuckin’—the Blade Runner 2049 uninspired holographic sex pieces of s-uergh-shit... they’ll live.”

You pout down at him, and he scowls back.

“Stop—” you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but his hands are firm. “—stop with the judgy face, I know what you’re... I can see it in your stupid...eyes…” you stammer, still too high to form a sentence. You prod a finger in between his eyes and his crow’s feet crease in amusement. Damn him, and his stupid eyes and stupid smirk.

He sets you down abruptly, then places his hands against his hip and waits expectantly for an explanation. The swiftness of the action sends a cool breeze you can feel underneath, an unwelcome reminder of the night’s events.

“Alright, genius,” he exaggerates, “What do I—”

“—you think I’m some kiddo, some… some killjoy who doesn’t know how to have fun and… who can’t handle herself when she tries,” you ramble on.

As if on cue, you start to sway on your feet. Rick notices immediately, his roguish smirk replaced with a flash of genuine concern.

“Ye-eurgh, yeah. That’s enough out of you, k-kiddo,” he ribs.

And just as the night had started, Rick whisks you up by the waist, carrying you through the portal despite your frantic protest.

“—Wait! My panties!”

--------

On the other side of the portal, Rick sets you down on the workbench of his garage so that your feet dangle from the ledge. He takes an appraising look up and down and averts his gaze when he notices you squirm uncomfortably in just a thin, clinging t-shirt. You’re cold, he realizes, shrugging off his lab coat to wrap around your shoulders haphazardly.

“N-neurgh-now put that on and d-don’t get frisky under there, I just had it washed.”

You sniff the coat, pleasantly surprised that the laundry scent is only slightly masked by booze. He grips you at the shoulders to steady you, and you try to shut up and stay upright. Your eyes are unfocused as he pulls over a cart and hooks you up to some sort of IV.

You wonder how you look now, wearing his coat with almost nothing underneath. Your legs slightly spread, already wet for him. How you’d look if he finished what you had started, if he fucked you against the workbench with just his lab coat on. He’d never call you kid again, you think. He’d also have to wash the coat.

You rub your thighs together and try to focus on something else. But then Rick presses his thumb into the crook of your elbow to insert the catheter, and the sensation is unexpectedly tender. It elicits a moan so indecent you try to cover it with your other hand.

“Ho-holy fuck, what did they give you?” Rick grunts. “M-murpp-ust have been good enough shit to get you wet over a fucking— from an IV drip,” he snorts. He reaches into his coat to grab his flask, but you shiver when his hand grazes the side of your thigh. If he notices your response, he spares you the embarrassment, instead taking a large glug from his flask.

You sit in silence, eyes trained on the fluid running through the tube. Some noises emanate from the machine, which Rick takes note of. When you start to sway again, he pretends to be annoyed then props you against his shoulder, leaving only inches between you.

“See this number,” he jabs at one of the monitors on his cart, “is how fucked up you are right now. Once it hits zero, you’re gonna—you’ll be totally sober. G-gonna have the worst hangover of your life, but at least you won’t be d-dead.”

He turns his unimpressed gaze back to you. “Think that makes you two for three on shitty choose-your-own-adventures.”

You try to string a sentence together. “This is—this is so fucked. How did I—” you burst into a fit of laughter at the absurdity of your situation, even more tickled when Rick joins in.

“I mean, really... a holographic sex orgy? With BP and Squanchy too!” you blush, holding your face in embarrassment. “I knew I should have stuck with Blips and Chitz.”

“H-how’d you manage to fuck a hologram?” he asks halfway through a belly laugh.

The laughter dies, and then he pries further with a measured tone. “W-were you... did you think you were fucking me?”

The question sounds like one he’s been waiting to ask, and you’re dizzied by the sudden change in tone.

“I-I don’t know.... it was just...” you trail off.

“I think you do know.” he leans in closer now. His discerning gaze pierces into yours, but the look in his eyes is bored, like he’s sure the admission of truth will come.

“I—” you stare back, scrambling to find a way out of this, but the confession spills from your lips anyway. “You were on stage, performing. And then you took me to the tour bus. And you wanted me, and I was so high…god, but I—”

Rick leans back in his chair, like he really enjoys seeing you make a fool of yourself.

“—but I did, I wanted—”

“I mean, shit, if you w-wanted—” he spares you at the last second. “—if you wanted the real thing so bad, you could’ve just said so.” He says it like a throwaway offer, legs spread exaggeratedly in his chair. You’re sure he’s taunting you.

“Best fuck in your life, n-no, best fuck in the multiverse. So I’ve—so I’m told.” He riffs an imaginary guitar and gestures indecently to really paint that groupie fuck fest picture in your mind.

“C’mon, The Flesh Curtains—” you spar back, “—still a stupid band name, by the way— they’re overrated. On stage, and in bed.”

“Oh?” Rick leans back in his stool, chuckling lightly. He’s too amused by your annoyance to bother with a comeback.

“What, no defense? Not gonna blame it on the hologram dudes?”

“Mm-mm.” His eyes dance lazily across the ceiling, nonplussed.

You groan internally when you realize the dumb game he’s playing. He wants you to sound out the questions he knows you have. You check the monitors. God, you wish you could sober up quicker.

“If they were holograms, how’d I… how’d they…” you’re struggling to put to words the lascivious actions of the past few hours, and you fight the urge to bury your face into his lab coat.

“—How’d you fuck them?” he offers.

“I-I didn’t...”

“Yeah, it hardly matters now, sweetheart. Th-they’re just regular dudes synced up with the holograms. Like a host-parasite relationship. They’re paid by the hour, so don’t go—”

“—He sounded like you. He… he even acted like you,” you murmur, half hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“You liked that, huh?” Rick smirks. “W-well it’s probably an advanced AI, I did fuck just about everyone back in the day. The body— the host’s just in it— just there for the ride. The rest is all me, baa-by.”

You blush again, unsure what to do with that piece of information.

“So... everyone? As in you and Birdperson.. and Squanchy, right?” you ask.

“Well Squanch mostly jacked off l-like David Carradine, y’know— the guy w-with the rope…” he clarifies.

“B-but, yeah… Y-urrp-yup.”

--------

The conversation eventually reaches a dead-end. At some point, you become more sleepy than high and you feel your eyelids droop.

“Jesus fuck—no, here…” Rick nudges you back awake. He rummages through his pants for his wallet and pulls out a picture.

“Th-this is us. Ignore the stripper in the background, they were a b-uergh-bad lay,” he recalls. “If you stay awake, we can take another with you in it, instead.”

You glare in mock offense, but stare at the photo anyway. Meanwhile, Rick strums his fingers impatiently, checking the monitors. Your sobriety is taking forever, turns out, and he directs his attention to appraising your state.

Draped around your shoulders, his lab coat hangs open just slightly, enough for him to notice your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your shirt. And then he can’t help himself but notice everything—the rich stain of your swollen lips, your tousled hair, the faint bruises on your thigh where hologram Rick had gripped you, hands on you that weren’t his own.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You look up from the photo, breaking him from his reverie. “I was sorta hoping you’d fix things between BP, but now I know it’s not as simple as I thought,” you say with genuine remorse.

He’s half-relieved that you misinterpreted the intense depravity on his face as grief, and half-upset that you’re right. Birdperson had left the party early, citing parental duties. Rick was far from accepting it, but he couldn’t get the band back together, at least not in the way that he wanted.

“Turns out Senthol Di- isn’t BP’s hallucinogen of choice anymore,” he muses, trying to keep things light.

You laugh at that, agreeing.

“He’s also got a kid to take care of too..” he trails off, not really sure why he feels the need to share any of this with you.

“So the band’s broken up?”

He nods.

“Well they all do eventually,” you offer. “Even the best ones…”

You offer a sad smile and return the photo to him. “What’s that thing you’re always saying… about relationships being chemical reactions... M-maybe think of this as chemical equilibrium, y’know, how it just—” you gesture vaguely, “—fizzles out inevitably…?”

He’s charmed whenever you try to cheer him up with science talk. It’s the way you are—overly attentive, always sharp. You know which tools he needs and will check his math before he even asks, same as how you always remember to restock his cabinet with Foamies beer and wafer cookies. It’s that same quality which makes you a competent sidekick, that he guesses, would make you a good lover.

He’ll never admit to it out loud—never, god just the thought of it is domestic and gross. A whole life he’d lived and lost and vowed never to revisit. But sometimes the loneliness and want is so unbearable that it drives him crazy, invades his late-night dreams with the thought of you and him.

Vivid visions of him eating you out, pleasuring you a million different ways right here on this workbench. You rake fingers through his hair and sing for him as he kisses bruises into your supple skin. Lick the hollow of your throat to find your throbbing pulse, pull wave after wave of pleasure from your body, mark you as his.

It’s the strongest chemical impulse he’s felt in forever, one that he decides to shove in the deepest, darkest drawer of his twisted mind.

“Rick…?” you wave a hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention.

He hums, and the soft look on his face hardens.

“You alright?”

He takes a lethargic glug from his flask. Then he bursts into laughter, spitting his drink everywhere.

“What?” you counter defensively, completely baffled by his behavior.

“Nothing… j-just funny to see you like this,” he explains, trying to bite down a grin.

“Like what?” you question, wary of the mischievous twist in his eyebrow.

“Like—like talking science shit one second and then… then fucking yourself on a hologram me.”

You’re horrified. You decide you don’t want to spare him the hard questions you’ve been holding your tongue with.

“And what about you? Party too boring, you figured you’d stalk me?” you snap back.

“I-I mean a threesome? He swerves the question entirely, spinning around in his stool, overly amused with himself. “Didn’t know you were like that. Nn-othing wrong wit— nothing against sexual liberation, but wow...”

“Don’t deflect!” You jab a finger in his face and straighten up to reach eye-level. “How the fuck did you know where I was?”

“—one second you’re passing me a screwdriver in shitty— in baggy sweats, the next second you’re trying to fuck all three of the Flesh Curtains.”

“Rick!”

He grumbles, getting up from his stool to pace around the garage.

“Ok-ay…” he starts. “So you have a tracker on you. It’s a thing they do these days...T-to protect assets. La-di-da, can we move o-on?” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair in irritation.

“Asset?” you shout. “Oh so I’m just an object—a-a fucking possession of yours?”

“O-oh what? So you’d rather die?” He’s livid now, because how dare you try to make him say this shit out loud. “Don’t get offended by d-dumb—stupid, semantic shit.”

You respond in measured silence, jaw clenched shut, and he knows he’s in trouble.

“Al-alright I-I’ll level with you. There are infinite versions of you—”

“—I know...” you interrupt.

“And therefore, infinite replacements of you. But none without an amount of w-eurgh-ork that would ultimately defeat the purpose... S-so I planted a tracker that monitors your vitals and whereabouts, and in return, y-you get to live. ”

He’s met with deafening silence. He fidgets under your gaze, avoiding eye contact completely.

“I-I-It means you’re not an object… B-because I care a-about… about whether or not you die,” he stutters out. “H-h-happy now?”

He pulls his flask up to take another swig, but feels your hand suddenly rest on his arm. “H-hey!” he protests.

The lab coat slips off your shoulders when you lean forward, delicate fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. He can see just about everything from this angle, standing above you. Your thighs squirm together tight from the cold draft, and maybe arousal. The smell of sex still hangs in the air, which now that he thinks of, is probably imparted on his coat.

He clenches his jaw at the thought, trying to fixate on something, anything that’s not the sheen of sweat on your sharp collar bones or the long line of your neck, exposed. When he reluctantly drags his eyes up to your face, he can see clearly now that you are aroused. Eyes pooled black with want, lips slightly parted.

And then you reach for him, soft delicate fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. He shudders, almost imperceptibly, at your touch. You trace the tips of your fingers on his lower lip, then outline his cupid’s bow. Your eyes flick up to his own and then back down. Before he can remove himself from your hold, you press a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek.

He feels you pull away, to pause and gauge his reaction. But he’s petrified, unsure of what to make of you. So you plant another one closer, test him again, this time at the corner where his lips meet. You’re close enough now that as you hold the kiss, you can feel the rise and fall of his chest quicken in pace. He can feel you too, lips twisting into a smile against him, firm and unyielding in your pursuit.

With a newfound steadiness that hadn’t surfaced all night, you pull him in again. This time, hand palming his undershirt, brushing your lips to his so tenderly, with a palpable longing. He grips the edge of the workbench with both hands, knuckles white from restraint, because there is no way you are kissing him sober. But lust clouds his better judgment, and he feels his arms reach up to pin you down and kiss you proper.

He’s surprised when you suddenly pull away before he gets the chance, placing your palm to his chest to create space.

“Thank you,” you say. “F-for caring… and for being a good nurse,” you offer a soft, apprehensive smile, which he completely ignores.

He panics instead, turning away from you to check the beeping monitors. When they show that you’re completely sober, he tries to find some rational explanation for why in the everloving fuck you’d ever kiss him with that look, that sentimental, soppy bullshit look in your eyes. He checks the IV drip, switches on and off the machine to recalibrate—because surely something must be wrong with you.

But nothing turns up, and you sit on the workbench, eyes half-lidded and a content smile on your face, patiently waiting for Rick to figure you out.

He turns around to face you, a dumbfounded and boyish look in his eyes. Just in time to feel you pull towards him for another kiss.

But your momentum stops halfway, and you keel over. You slump over his shoulder with heavy, slumbering breaths.

He lets out the breath he’s been holding in, a long exhale that ends in a groan of frustration. He keeps you there, nestled into his neck, then watches your pretty face as you sleep. All the while contemplating the troubling predicament on his hands, that is you.

When you wake up, the first thing you realize is that you’re in your own bed. Your head rings painfully when you prop yourself up. Then you remember the night before. The trippy drugs and sex, and you kissing Rick. The memories of the Flesh Curtains are smeared and faded, but the kiss—the kiss with Rick is more vivid than any of the countless iterations you’d dreamed up in your hopeless little mind.

You stretch and lift yourself up from the bed, full of nervous anticipation for what adventures with Rick mean from here on out. You’re not naive, you know that last night probably meant nothing for someone as volatile and flighty as Rick.

Then you notice it, hanging on your lamppost, tinging the whole room a pinkish-red. The outline is distinct, there is no doubt about it. Your red panties from the tour bus, freshly washed and mysteriously returned.

Sitting atop, a handwritten note—from the only man in the multiverse who would ever dare.

--------

A/N: Aahhh so I left this open-ended because I’m a sucker for slow-burns, and I want to write these two more when I get the chance. Hope you enjoyed this, it was so fun to start and finish a fic for once! As always, comments and kudos are fuel for my lonely little writing soul <3

Also, I’d like to think that after reader fell asleep, Rick beat the holo flesh curtains up, got her panties back, and washed them in the same load as his lab coat. Just kidding, he totally didn’t wash the lab coat and keeps that one in his closet as a souvenir… As for Rick’s note… well that may or may not be a little adventure I have planned for these two dummies, so stay tuned!!

Caught In Their Webs (Series Masterlist)

NWH Spoilers below and in this series, read at your own risk!!!(Masterlist will be updated as story progresses, not much yet)

Summary: Your best friend and long term crush Peter Parker rocks up at your apartment with two other Peters Parkers in tow and tells you he has managed to break the damn multiverse. You agree to host the two other Peters, whilst your Peter tries to fix the damn multiverse. What will happen during a full week with three Peters filtering in and out of your apartment.

* = Smut

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Lyrics: “Cocaine ruin your brain (ay), please don’t do cocaine (ay), cocaine ruin ruin your brain (what), please don’t do cocaine (ay)”

Pack Mom Masterlist

Liam Dunbar finds a mother in Y/N, Derek’s girlfriend. Follow the story of the new family and the love they all share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Bruce Banner X Reader

Soulmates, What A Joke Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Starry Nights Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - NSFW Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 COMPLETE

Sunny Days (Starry Nights Sequel) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 - NSFW

Letters From The Heart Part 1

You’re Actually Pregnant?

You’re Beautiful

Puppy Love

Bruce Banner Dealing With Pregnancy Would Include:

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

Shut Up And Kiss Me

Heartbreak

Hearts Mend

Perfect Fit

Avengers Family Dinner?

I’ve Got You

Don’t Tell

Haircut

Fallen Thoughts

Not Okay

Work Of Art

Home

I Do, I Don’t

Tea?

Happy Birthday!

Exhibit A Through C

Bruce Banner X Single Mom!Reader (Single Mom!Reader got popular so I gave it its own category with OC kids Nicky and Sammy, also order is in chronological timeline)

Green Juice

Reformed

Remedied

Then And Now

What Do You Mean You Knew?!

What Is Family?

NSFW

Sex With Bruce Banner Would Include:

Kisses In The Closet

We All Need A Break Sometimes

Intimacy

Always The Quiet Ones

Worth A Thousand Words

Soft

This is amazing

Sometimes that one reblog makes the difference.

Based on a true story from my time as an artist.

Former Avenger Turned Actress ~ Part 6: DCcon

A/N: Hey, lovelies! 😀 Happy to see that people are enjoying this story so much! :)

Let’s continue…

Enjoy! 😘

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Former Avenger Turned Actress: - Summary - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 ½ months later, Early April, Washington DC…

Steve smiled down at his phone screen as he sat down in a seat on Tony’s private jet as it landed at the airport. He and the whole team were going to attend the ‘Official Salute to Supernatural Convention’ in Washington DC, or as it was also called, DCcon. It was the first time they were really going to get to see Y/N interact with the whole Supernatural cast in person.

“What are you all smiley at?” Natasha asked with a smile as she peered over Steve’s shoulder from the seat behind him.

“Look how happy she looks.” Steve said as he showed Natasha a picture of Y/N and Sebastian on Twitter.

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this is the purest video I’ve ever laid my sinning eyes on

Lol

IMAGINE: Being Harry’s Sister and Being in Love with Fred.

Mine

Wut

Naruto:I'm pregnant Sasuke:🔼🔼

Mine

Cousin's

Cute

That is so fucking cute!!😍😍😍😍 ~~~~~~~ Not mine belongs to rightful owner

Reblog if you support equal rights because I do 💕

Imagine - you’re Carl’s girlfriend who was taken by Negan during the line up because he wanted ‘something fresh’. Carl knew it wouldn’t be easy getting you back, but he was willing to try anything, so when Negan takes him back to Alexandria, only to find you in the passengers seat he feels a great sense of relief. Things get heated between the pair of you and Negan catches you in the act. Oops.

Warnings - swearing, violence, angst, slight smut, teasing and slight bullying from Negan.

“Why are you here?” you whisper to your boyfriend as he clambers into the truck, sitting at your side, you assess his face for any damage, but he seemed clean.

Carl smiles slightly at your worry and lightly squeezes your hand without Negan seeing, “I had to find you,” he decided not to tell you the details, how he killed two of Negan’s men before being apprehended, he wouldn’t dare tell you how Negan made him show his eye.

In the corner of your eye you see it, something you’ve only ever seen once, you reach your hand up to tilt his head to face you when you’re stopped, “Ah, ah, ah Princess, don’t touch him, you’re mine, remember?” your arm drops to your side but you don’t take your eyes away from Carl, you know he’s not telling you something.

Negan dragged you from the line up, he had hopes of making you one of his wives but he knew you had too much fire to be cooped up in a room all day, so instead, you were his favourite person, he lusted after you whenever you were around. To him, he’d rather have you over anyone else, he would constantly ask you to marry him but you’d always politely refuse his offer. Part of it was because you enjoyed the game, but the rest of you belonged to Carl, and that’s how it was always supposed to be.

The journey was spent in silence on your part, of course Negan would make the odd remark about something along the road, but other than that you could say you were comfortable, even if it was a lie.

Soon enough, the truck rolled to a stop before a set of familiar gates, “Y/N, take him home, I’ll be there soon, I’m going to have a look around,” he leaves a lingering kiss on your forehead before he saunters off into the distance.

Carl looks to you, “Come on then,” you tell him flatly as you head towards his house in Alexandria, “You shouldn’t have gone looking for me, Carl,” you tell him, tucking a strand of your H/C hair behind your ear nervously.

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?” he asks you as he walks by your side.

Turning to look at him, you give him sad eyes, “Yes, you were,” you jog up the porch steps and let yourself in, noticing Olivia in the kitchen, “Negan will be wanting you, think he’s by the armoury somewhere, I’ve got this,” you tell the woman who nods slowly before scurrying off.

With a sigh you look around your former home, you used to live with Carl before Negan took you away. Rick loved you, even if you were a couple years older than Carl, but no one ever said anything about it.

Carl wraps his arms around you, pressing his soft lips to your neck before moving up to your sweet spot, making you moan softly, “Carl-”

“Don’t” he mumbles against your skin, “Just let us have this moment, it might be the last,” your knees go weak as you face him, forcing your lips together roughly, your fingers tangle in his dark waves as he backs you up into the counter, encasing you between his arms before he lifts you onto the counter.

Carl smirks on your lips as he removes your shorts slowly, teasing you when he drops them to the floor and palms your dripping cunt which is ready, waiting for him, he takes your shirt off and kisses down your chest, biting at you hard nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. Your back arches as he slips a finger inside of you, reaching to that spot before curling slightly before thrusting his finger into you. Not once does he take his eyes off of you, his blue orbs finding your own as his free hand roams your curves, like he’s willing himself to remember every detail about you, “Carl, please,” you whisper, he nods with a smile and kisses you hard again, you unbuckle his pants and let them fall to the floor as he removes his finger from your core, leaving you cold and yearning for something bigger.

Your boyfriend gasps, throwing his head back as you grab his hard cock through his boxers, he’d forgotten how good it felt to have your fingers wrapped around him. Slowly, you push his boxers down, grabbing his full length, spreading his precum over the tip as he rolls his hips in and out of your grip desperately, his lips closed over yours, his hands knitted in your hair as it almost becomes unbearable for him to cope with.

In one swift motion, you open your legs wide and positioned him at your entrance, he buries his head into the crook of you neck as he slowly pushes into you, welcoming the familiar warmth and tightness which he loved so dearly. Carl allows you to adjust before thrusting into you faster and harder, so hard you have to grip the sides of the counter for support as he leans on you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses across your collarbone, “Oh Carl,” you moan loudly as your hands dig into his back, whilst you buck your hips to meet his hard thrusts, the sound of your skin slapping filling the air as well as your mixed moans.

Carl pulls away looking into your eyes, “Let go, baby,” he kisses your lips softly as he fucks you harder, your stomach tightens as he fucks you in the spot where you need him the most.

“And what the fuck is going on here?” You eyes grow wide as Carl freezes inside of you, you look to the doorway and see Negan stood there, his eyes scream fury as he takes in the scene before him.

Carl removes himself from you, pulling his pants back up before handing you your shirt and shorts, which you slip on quickly, “Negan-”

“Shut it, Y/N,” he snaps at you, making you nod and take a step back as he stalks over to Carl, “That’s my girl, god, do you know how much I want her? How much I need her to be mine, but the second I turn my back she’s on your cock, maybe you’re the problem, kid, maybe you have to go in order to make her a bit more submissive, hm?”

You knew what that meant, “Negan, stop this, please,” you sob, he looks at you and his eyes soften for a moment before growing hard again.

“I won’t allow this,” he tells you with apologetic eyes as he shoves Carl to his knees, raising Lucille over his head.

Your next actions come from impulse, “Negan!” You shout and he freezes to look at you, Carl does the same, begging you not to be stupid, you take a step forward and another when you realise he won’t hurt you, all until you’re stood between them. Negan looks down at you, waiting, you run your hands down his chests before his gaze, “Let him live, let him live and I’ll marry you, I’ll submit, just don’t hurt him.”

“Y/N, no-”

Carl is silenced when Negan points Lucille at him, not taking his eyes of you, searching for lies on your features, “Alright, doll, he’s spared,” Negan wraps an arm around your waist, licking his lips as he does so, claiming your lips roughly, “Looks like we’ve got a wedding to plan, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Hello darlings!

Sorry if this is really crap! I’ve been writing and eating pizza at the same time so I don’t know where my focus has been. This was a request but I feel like doing a part two where Negan takes the reader back to the sanctuary and tells everyone how he found her with Carl? Basically humiliating her?

Let me know if you fancy it!

xoxo

Teen Wolf: Alternate Universe

Jackson x Reader

Part One      Part Two     Part Three

Jackson pulled you into him, his hand running over your sides as he began to breath heavily. He was trying to keep himself wrapped up in the kiss and not in the way your hands traced over his arms and back, his body rolling and moving into your touch.

  He reluctantly pulled away, wanting to look at you while touching you all at once, so he rolled over to cradle you in his arms and pull you against his chest. You couldn’t help giggled as he pressed kisses to your arms and shoulders, completely relaxing into his arms and letting him slide his arms around you.

  “Jackson?” Derek’s voice echoed and your scent faded away. “Jackson you need to get up.”

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