#send reqs

[palesweetdeeer]

I’m a very big fan of ‘Grace Rocky sleep, Adrian watch’

[dreaminguponlilypads]

just thinking about how Simon would act after an intruder incident.. this is very rushed sowwy

You were still shaken up. Very much so. In fact, you were so shaken up that you couldn’t speak for a week afterwards out of fear. His birdie was horrified.

Simon felt horrible. It had nothing to do with you, but everything to do with him. He could hear the distant echo of his father yelling about what a man’s honour was. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t keep his family safe? He felt nothing short of an embarrassment to you.

Riley seemed to notice the dark cloud over the house as well. The big German Shepherd curling up around the both of you whenever possible, sleeping at the foot of the bed inside of the big dog bed, being less jumpy.

Simon took the rest of the week off. Tending to your injuries, rubbing your back when you got scared, coddling you as much as you needed. Simply didn’t let you out of his sight. The only time he left you alone was to buy new cameras for the house.

“I thought we already had those?..” you muttered while on the couch, petting Riley. “We need more, luv. The other ones are old. Need to keep a better eye on you. Watch your show, yeah?”

He even bought an entire monitor for his office, solely for the purpose of being able to stream the camera feed 24/7. Even Johnny thought he was overreacting

“Dinnae wanna pry, LT, but don’t you think the lass can protect herself?” the Scotsman commented. “You are pryin’. Don’t worry about what I’m doin’.”

[b0n33pile]

I fucking love this meme

[47foden]

Jude Bellingham request where the reader teases Jude about the news that England players will be allowed to take viagra for the Mexico vs England match because of the altitude. And she makes a joke about how his size and how it might cause and offside.

VIAGRA - ju. bellingham

click here for part two!

inwhich! you tease jude about him and his team taking viagra before the mexico vs. england game.

frannytalks! this is so short, didn’t know if you wanted smut haha, i hope you like this! and he lowkey would cause an offside. 👀 don’t forget to join my taglist(s) here!

jude had always left his phone unattended and you would have to shut it off for him. this time he left it on the kitchen table while he was getting ready to go for a game, you were mid yelling his name to get his phone but you stopped before you could finish.

you saw his team group chat going crazy and you had to take a look. as you looked and scrolled you saw mentions of taking viagra for a joke because of the altitude.

you laugh to yourself quietly as jude comes up behind you, “you said my name love?”

you slightly jump, turning his phone face-down, “oh, yeah, your phone.”

he gave you a quick kiss, “thanks baby.”

you grin to yourself, knowing what you’re about to say to him, “you feeling okay?”

“yeah, why?” you furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing his phone.

“even after the viagra?” you hold in your laugh, “or did you not take that yet?”

jude gave you a “really?” look as he rolled his eyes, chuckling softly, “okay y/n, enough.”

“you sure you’ll be able to play tonight baby?” you say, finally letting out a loud laugh.

“i’ll be fine, y/n, were you going through my phone?” he says, scrolling through messages.

you nod no, “why? are you all planning to take it at the same time?”

“y/n.” he says, glaring at you.

“maybe you shouldn’t jude, your size might cause an offside while you’re playing.” you wink, brushing your fingers across his lap.

he twitched, backing away, “shut up.”

“maybe i should help you out!” you say loudly while laughing because he’s walking away.

“just start the car!” he huffs from your shared bedroom.

“you sure you still want to go? they might not let you play with a third leg!” you bite your lip, holding in your laugh once again.

he didn’t respond, “it’s okay to have three legs, don’t be ashamed jude!” you say, finally grabbing the keys and walking away towards the car.

-

ju. bellingham taglist: @luvrgrl-222 , @soobieewoobiee , @laneyrainy0 , @mmonkeh3000 , @mariaaaalm , @dianazyb , @brune77e , @strwayberrymilktea , @oliseamorr , @ceziaa , @sourcandyfish , @rosyyyrube <3

perm. taglist: @pinkfashionkilla , @koneooo , @random34674 , @mumisntproudofme , @itsopinionsbased , @bangtan7553 , @eerilyjaggedconstruct , @putaaamadre <33

[theflying-pink]

Can you please do a part two of the nighttime of Simon losing weight and we tell him and he can react however you want I find it hilarious xx

Part 1

You woke up feeling sore. Your shoulders felt tight and your neck tense. Dried sweat covered your forehead and your skin was feverishly hot. The morning light had warmed you up until you were desperate for a bit of cold. As you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Simon who was also just barely awake.

"Morning," he slurred, burying his face into his pillow.

"Good morning," you answered, turning to stare at the ceiling. Your throat was dry and scratchy but your bones felt too heavy for you to get up.

"You were talking in your sleep."

You huffed out a laugh. You couldn't really remember what you were dreaming about. "Is that why you're so tired now?"

"No," he answered quickly. "I just need a vacation."

"Don't we all?"

You forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. While brushing your teeth, you thought more about how you slept. You remembered a quiet guilt in the back of your mind, something gnawing away at your subconscious, you remembered Simon, who was showing up a lot in your dreams, and you remembered words.

"Lose weight then"

Awful, dirty words that have destroyed millions of childhoods, teenagers, relationship and all else. You tried to figure out who they belonged to in the dream, reached deep inside your mind and–

"I know what I dreamt!"

Simon rounded the corner to also get ready for the day, mumbling: "Yeah? What was it about?"

You titled your head at him. "You can't laugh."

"I promise."

"I dreamt that you couldn't fit into your pants and I told you to lose weight. Then you lifted up your shirt and your ribs were showing."

He just stared at you, blinking slowly. Then he bursted out in a loud laugh.

"Stop laughing!" You playfully hit him in the shoulder. "I felt really guilty!"

"I'm sorry. That is just so ridiculous," he chuckled, "but I'm glad to know that you like me chubby."

A/N: Reader's experience of waking up was inspired by the one I had today.

[smoggys-fog-station]

JOHN: up here!!!

[reissancesstuff]

How Mikey Got His Wife (Against All Odds)

The first time you met Manjiro Sano, you had no idea who he was.

Well, correction: you knew he was someone. The guy had swagger, an aura of danger, white hair that looked too pretty for his attitude, and an expression like the world bored him to death.

What you didn’t know was that he was that Manjiro Sano. Bonten’s leader. Japan’s most dangerous crime boss. Someone who could literally blink and make people disappear.

And you? You were a barista. Working the morning shift, half-asleep, armed with nothing but caffeine and sarcasm.

So when the man strutted in, cut the entire line, and leaned against the counter with an arrogant tilt of his head—you didn’t even flinch.

"You gonna pay for that coffee? Or are you just here to stand around and look mysterious?"

The room went dead silent.

You didn’t notice the flinch from the guy in the suit behind him. Or how the woman next to you suddenly ducked.

Mikey, however, blinked.

His head tilted. Just slightly. He looked you over. And for the first time in years, his lips twitched.

"What if I like standing around?"

You squinted. "Then stand over there. After you pay."

He paid. Silently. Didn’t say another word. But he came back the next day. And the next. And the one after that.

Sometimes he ordered the same drink. Sometimes he just stared at you, sat in a booth, arms crossed, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

You ignored him. Mostly. Gave him nicknames like "pouty gremlin" or "white-haired menace" under your breath.

Until one day, you saw him again. Not in the café. Not in his fancy coat.

He was bleeding.

It was a rainy night, and you were walking home when you found him slouched in an alley, breathing heavy, eyes sharp even through the pain.

"Oh my god—are you okay?"

He looked up. Recognized you. Still tried to play it cool.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?! You look like you got run over by a truck. Twice."

You dragged him to your apartment. Cleaned him up. Forced him to sit still.

"You know, for someone who looks like a villain, you bleed like everyone else."

He snorted. "You talk too much."

"And you sulk too much."

He didn’t leave for a while. Slept on your couch. Ate your instant ramen. Watched movies with a permanent scowl, until he started actually laughing.

And one day, out of nowhere, he just—

"You’re mine now."

You looked up from your cereal. "Huh?"

Mikey didn’t even blink. "You’re mine. Don’t make me repeat it."

"Is that your version of a proposal or a threat?"

"Yes."

And somehow, from that moment on, he just... never left.

The Bonten execs were horrified. Some were in denial. Sanzu needed a week to recover.

But Mikey? Mikey was obsessed. Protective. Clingy.

He dragged you into his world, but made sure you were untouchable.

The first time someone called you "Mrs. Sano," you almost spit out your drink.

But Mikey just nodded proudly. Arm around your waist. Dead serious.

"Damn right. That’s my wife."

(And you never had to pay for coffee again.)

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

requested by:

[polinakiska]

drunk needy mike <3

warnings; smut, dry humping, mentions of alcohol, fwb, kinda sub mikey.

mike’s sitting on the couch when you spot him, legs spread, red cup dangling from his fingers just about to fall. he’s laughing at something dustin said, but it’s delayed. way too late. that’s how you know.

fuck.

you walk over and stand in front of him. he looks up at you and smiles immediately, soft and dumb in a way that makes your stomach drop.

“oh hey!” he says, like you just arrived and not like you’ve been here the whole time. “youu’re here.”

“i’ve been here,” you say. “how much did you drink?”

he blinks and thinks about it. then shrugs. “enough?”

you take the cup from his hand and sniff it. definitely not soda.

“mike.”

“i knoooow, i know,” he says, already leaning forward to stand up. he wobbles the second his feet hit the floor and you grab his arm without even thinking.

he laughs it off. “see? ‘m fine. just—” he gestures vaguely “tilted.”

“yeah. you’re tilted straight out of this house.”

you grab his wrist and start pulling before he can argue. he doesn’t, which honestly surprises you. he just follows, bumping into your shoulder once, then again.

“sorry,” he says, not actually fixing it.

the hallway’s darker, quieter. someone laughs behind a closed door. mike presses his palm flat against the wall to steady himself.

“i didn’t even wanna be here,” he says.

“well, you drank like you wanted to be here.”

he huffs. “that was peer pressure.”

“from who.”

“everyone,” he says. then softer: “max.”

you roll your eyes. “of course.”

he stops walking again. you almost don’t notice until your arm tugs back.

“they keep inviting me now,” he says. “isn’t that weird?”

you turn to face him. “you mean the same people who used to ignore you?”

“yeah.” he nods slow. “those ones.”

for a second he looks proud. then it fades. his mouth twists.

“i don’t trust it.”

you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “they just grew up.. and noticed how cool you actually are.”

he presses his lips flat, lousy smile. “shut up.”

. . .

your house looks exactly the same as always. white porch light on. two steps up to the front door. the window by the entry still has the crooked curtain you never fixed. quiet street, no cars, no noise.

you unlock the door and step inside. the hallway light clicks on. shoes by the wall. coat on the chair. the place smells like detergent and whatever candle you lit earlier and forgot about. oh wait, jasmine candle.

mike comes in behind you and shuts the door. then abruptly stops by the entrance.

you kick off your shoes and drop your keys on the table. when you turn around, he’s still standing there, back near the door, shoulders tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“you okay?” you ask skeptically.

“yeah,” he says too quickly. “i’m good.”

he is not good.

you take a step closer as he shifts his weight, clears his throat, stares at the floor.

oh. OH.

you don’t say it. you just look at him. at it.

he notices and immediately groans. “pl-please don’t.”

“i didn’t say anything.” you smile a little, can’t help it.

“you’re thinking it.”

“maybe.”

he rubs his face, mortified. “i swear i wasn’t trying to be weird.”

“you’re drunk,” you say. “and you’ve been with pretty girls all night.”

“that makes it worse,” he mutters.

“you can sit,” you say.

he nods and moves to the couch, sitting stiffly on the edge. hands still in his pockets. knees bouncing like an anxious child.

“this is actually so embarrassing,” he says.

“it’s fine,” you reply. “it happens.”

he looks up at you then. eyes glossy, flushed, way too open. like a puppy.

“you don’t seem bothered,” he says, a bit puzzled.

“i’m not.” you reply as you sat next to him.

that makes him swallow hard.

“… you wanna lie down,” you ask. “you look like you’re about to pass out.”

he exhales, relieved. “yeah. please.”

you head down the hall toward your room. he follows close behind, careful not to touch, very clearly wanting to.

your room is small and familiar. hasn’t changed that much since middle school. twin bed against the wall, faded comforter, a nightstand with a cassette player and a few tapes stacked crooked. pet shop boys posters taped up with their edges peeling. a desk by the window with a lamp and a walkman tossed on top. blinds are half open, streetlight cutting in. mike pauses when you walk in, glances around once, then closes the door behind him. he sits on the pink, tidy bed and lets out a small laugh.

“tonight got out of hand,” he says. “i just wanted to play d&d, to be honest.”

“you had fun,” you say, as you looked around at the mess, glad he was drunk enough to not give a shit.

“with side effects,” he replies, then looks at you. “not bad ones though.”

you sit next to him. your knees touch.

he leans in, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“thanks for getting me home,” he says quietly.

you don’t catch the exact moment it happens. he’s thanking you, quiet and close, and then his mouth is on yours again, rushed and careless. you fall back onto the bed without meaning to and he’s there instantly, holding himself up above you, breathing hard, eyes fixed on your face. somewhere along the way, this became inevitable, and now mike is on top of you, very present, very sure he doesn’t want to stop.

he kisses you without any restraint, not bothering to slow down or get it right, just going for it with too much want. his mouth clumsily keeps finding yours again and again, breath warm, clearly drunk enough to forget how careful he usually is. when you pulls back even slightly, he follows immediately, pressing closer, hands tightening at your waist because he doesn’t seem to know what to do with them except to hold on.

he lets out this shaky laugh that turns into a breath against your skin.

“please,” he whispers quietly. then more desperate, “please just… stay like this. touch me. i-i don’t care how stupid I sound.”

you cup his face, forcing him to look at you. his eyes are blown wide, needy.

“you’re not stupid,” you say, hips rocking against his, unconsciously. “you’re drunk.”

“that too,” he admits, as if you didn’t already know. “but also i really want you.”

he presses his mouth to yours again, sloppy and insistent. his hands seem to forget where to hold onto, so they land everywhere. waist, back, your thigh. he keeps pulling you closer even though there’s nowhere closer to go.

and when you feel him pressing up against your skin you can’t help but to think how wrong this was.

“mike,” you say quietly, pulling back just enough to look at him.

he swallows but doesn’t move away. “i know,” he murmurs. “ ‘m sorry. ’m just.. ‘m really not hiding it well.”

“hey,” you say, pulling back fully this time.

“what- did.. did i do something wrong?”

“no,” you say quickly, not wanting to upset him. “no you didn’t.”

he searches your face, suddenly quieter. “then why’d you stop.”

you cup his cheek with your hand, feeling the smoothness of his flushed skin against your palm. that skin you’d been craving for a while now. “you’re drunk mike. we shouldn’t be doing this.”

he doesn’t move closer, but his voice changes.

“wait,” he says, immediately sitting back up. “please don’t do that.”

you look at him, you want it to happen you really do. but you care too much about him to actually let it happen.

he swallows, eyes flicking up to you, way too open. “i want you. not just because im drunk. i’ve wanted you. this just made me bad at hiding it.” his voice drops. “can we just stay here. sit, kiss.. anything. i’ll behave, i swear.”

he didn’t behave. five minutes later he was crowding your space again, not even fully aware of how he got there, knees on either side of your legs, hands shaking where they pressed into the mattress. he kept saying your name under his breath, over and over, like it might anchor him. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, then lifted, then dropped again. mouth trailing anywhere it could reach because he didn’t know where to put all the want building up in him.

“i know you said no,” he murmured, voice rough and uneven, “i know, i swear i know, ’m just.. please don’t make me stop touching you.”

he was desperate now, clinging, pressing closer without thinking, breathing hard against your skin, clearly overwhelmed by his own body and the fact that you were still there.

he wasn’t trying to be smooth or convincing, just honest in the most embarrassing way, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright and asking in a quiet voice not to be pushed away again.

you don’t want him to stop either.

“m-mike..” a soft plea gets out of your mouth as you feel his clothed cock blindly looking for your entrance. he presses into you, desperate for friction.

the second he realizes you’re not pushing him away something in him snaps loose and he’s moving again, closer, heavier. hips shifting without much control since he stopped pretending he has any.

“fuck,” he mutters, bit embarrassed, yet not enough to stop his rolling hips. “ ’m sorry, i can’t help it. i want you so bad-”

you’re overwhelmed in the best way possible. his weight all over you, the way his tip brushes against your clothed clit makes you wrap your arms around his neck. “god, yes.. mike-“

“please baby, i needa feel you..” he speaks against your neck, warm and wet. “let me inside baby please-“

“no.. mike wait,” you try your best to think with your brain and not your cunt, as he kept on kissing and nibbling on your neck and pressing up against the gap between your legs. “i-i haven’t got any condoms.”

he groans against your skin, frustrated. “i can pull out, don’t you worry about that.” his left hand was on your pants now, and you loved it.

“please, i need you so bad it’s painful..” his fingers clumsily trying to unzip them. “lemme fuck you, please.”

you were spread out by now. you hated how worked up he got you, how easily it was for you to just give in. “mike.. no.”

your voice was firm, making him pull away. half lidded eyes looking down at you, tongue licking your saliva off his lips.

“let’s just.. stay like this.” you kiss him gently, pulling him closer with both legs swaddling around his torso.

“mgh.. okay baby,” he kept on moving, trying to let it all out, groaning desperately. “fuck you feel so good. even like this.”

you could feel your panties getting soaked as he kept rubbing himself against you, so eager like he was trying to actually get his cock inside you. which he was.

“fuck baby, please.. i promise i’ll pull out please.” he looked down at you with those sad, puppyish eyes. you didn’t know whether they turned you on or made you wanna slap his face. “it aches please,”

“mike you’re drunk, you’re lucky we’re even doing this.”

“but i’ve always been so good to you, haven’t i? please baby, just this once,” his hands gripped on your hips. his length pressed right against your inner thigh, swaying up your core. “i promise ill make you feel sososo good,”

you rolled your eyes acknowledging that, for the hundredth time, you were giving in to mike wheeler.

————————————————————————————

part 2 or wot😛