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#but i had to draw him on his special day.
ladykailitha · 2 days
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The Harrington Pattern Part 12
Hey all, this story will wrap up today, so next week it will go back to just one chapter a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays and when Glitters wraps up, Sundays will go back to one a day as well.
A short chapter for the first of two, because this chapter got too long and needed to be cut down a tad and the next part fits better as a whole.
Eddie and Steve finally kiss and just giving Steve the loving crafting circle he needs.
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
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Steve got to see where the cast ate their meals, where some of the cast stayed in large tents (for those that had traveled from out of state but couldn’t afford a hotel), he got to meet the people who sold the food to the tourists, and the people who cleaned up every night.
It was marvelous.
“So was the two events they were trying to schedule at the same time, the joust and your trick riding?” Steve asked after they left the cleaners.
Eddie grinned. “Close, the sword fighting and my trick riding. I told them that I would happily run over those bastards, but I didn’t think the horses would appreciate it.”
“I bet that got them to change their tune,” Steve said with a laugh.
“It sure did, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured.
Suddenly they found themselves utterly alone.
“Steve–” Eddie began, but Steve placed his fingers on his lips.
“Just wait,” he said softly. “There’s something I want to give you first.”
Eddie blinked at him. “You bought me a present?” he asked. Well technically he said, “Ym brut me apresemnt?” since Steve still had his fingers over his mouth.
Steve laughed and dug it out of his pocket. “It’s been on a little journey, one that nearly gave me a heart attack,” he murmured, “but Jeff was able to get it back to me in time.”
He handed the small pouch over to Eddie.
Eddie took it gingerly and rubbed it between his fingers as he looked at the small thing that Steve had made for him. But as small as the item itself was the giving of it, was massive.
“I remembered you telling me that your dice bag broke,” Steve mumbled, “and I really wanted to thank you for all your help this weekend. I don’t think I could of done it without you.”
Eddie looked up at Steve with glossy eyes. “It’s perfect, Stevie.”
“I plan on giving a bunch to Katie for her to sell while I make the bigger pieces,” Steve continued, “and Robin said that I should give the first one to you, because it’s special. And you deserve something really special, Eds. Because you’re special to me and I–”
Whatever else Steve was going to say got swallowed up by Eddie kissing him firmly on the lips.
He had just grabbed Steve by the face and locked their lips together.
Steve was stocked into stillness, but that didn’t last long as he pulled Eddie close to him and deepened the kiss.
Eddie let out a happy sigh as they parted for breath. “Wow, baby. You kiss like it might be your last.”
“Eh...” Steve said with a half shrug and a lopsided smile, “when you’ve faced more then one ends of the world, it very well could be.”
Eddie chuckled, pressing their heads together. “You’ve got me there, big boy.”
“Mhmm,” Steve said softly. “And I’ve got you here, too.” His arms tightened around Eddie’s waist, drawing them flush against each other.
Eddie swatted at him. “Sap.”
Steve kissed him again. “If I’m a sap, then you’re my tree.”
“That was corny even for you, honey,” he murmured, swatting at him at playfully.
Steve just laughed.
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The end of the Renaissance Fair had come at last. There had been more then a few bumpy moments, but looking out at all the happy faces being lit up by fireworks, Steve was pleased with the results.
And next year was going to be even better, he had plans for helping the kids have quality costumes like Corroded Coffin boys had.
He might still have to do some altering instead of full on sewing all of the costumes, but he was really looking forward to it.
Katie had told him that he had several people offer her crazy money for the pouch he had accidentally dropped, so he promised her a dozen by the end of next week for her next Fair. In different sizes too.
Eddie had been the one to suggest that. Little coin purses, dice bags, and even handbag sized ones. Eddie was even going to help him find the right materials for it, ones that weren’t as expensive as the little dice bag Steve gave him.
Steve was really looking forward to it.
They hadn’t told the kids yet about their change in relationship. Not yet. They wanted to hold onto it for themselves a little longer.
Though, judging from the look that Will and Mike had sent him, Steve was pretty sure most of them had figured it out anyway.
So what started out with longing gazing into each others’ eyes, ended with holding hands under the cover of darkness as fireworks exploded overhead.
Steve had never been happier and he just knew more happiness was coming his way.
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Steve was proven right when Claudia called him up the next morning.
“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve murmured sleepily.
“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, “did I wake you?”
Steve looked blearily at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten in the morning.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, “I don’t usually sleep this late.”
“While that is certainly true,” Claudia agreed, “you also don’t normally spend three full days at a fair. Too much sun, too much fun, and too little sleep makes for a tired Steve. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Steve blushed. “Thanks, Mrs. Henderson. Was there something you needed?”
“Oh, yes!” she said brightly. “Are you free this afternoon, from around two to four?”
Steve looked over at his calendar and squinted. “Looks like it, unless the nuggets call for rides to wherever.”
Claudia chuckled. “I think they’re going to be just as tired as you and not want to go anywhere today.”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably.”
“So, me and couple of the other moms have a sewing circle every Sunday,” she explained. “And we were all wondering if you wanted to come and join us. We have punch and little treats and spend two hours working on whatever project we have going on while we fill each other in on what’s happening in our lives.”
“You gossip,” Steve accused, teasingly.
She giggled. “Gossip is such tawdry word.”
“Like your every day language wouldn’t make a sailor blush,” Steve said dryly.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.
“Ma’am, your son has the worst language I’ve ever seen on a teenager,” Steve said, “and I’m damn sure he didn’t get it from his dad. Even when he was alive.”
Claudia’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “All right, you’ve got me there, Steve. So you’ll come?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic!” she cried. “We meet at Joyce’s this week.”
“This week?” Steve asked, already plotting what to bring as a treat and which project he wanted to start.
“Yes,” Claudia explained. “We rotate every week so that one person isn’t stuck hosting every time. And if you come often enough, we’ll have it your place once in a while, as well.”
Steve frowned appreciatively. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later then.”
Claudia squealed in excitement. “I can’t wait. We’re going to teach you how to use a sewing machine!”
That really piqued Steve’s interest. “Oh yeah?”
“It was Karen Wheeler’s idea,” she explained. “Karen doesn’t sew like the rest of us, but she does cross-stitch while we all chat. Apparently Mike was telling her about all the sewing you did for him and his friends and that it was all by hand.”
Steve nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, my parents thought sewing was for girls, so I learned by hand.”
“Make sure to bring some examples of your work,” she said. “I want to blow Olive Peterson’s mind. She’s of the same mind as your parents, even though what she does, the knitting, was originally only for men.”
“I have these pouches I’ve decided to make and sell,” Steve said with a grin, “so I can bring those to work on and bring some of the work I did for the kids to show off.”
“That’s brilliant!” Claudia said. “I see you later!”
Steve said goodbye and hung up.
This just might be the thing he needed.
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Part 13
Don't quote me on the knitting originally being for men thing, it was something I learned when I read a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling years and years ago. The soldier in the story knitted to keep awake at night.
Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369
@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach
@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog
@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690
@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt
@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss
@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv
@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system CLOSED
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mokozroach · 2 days
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redacted headcanons 2
(long as fuck)
Huxley grows beautiful plants for his house/garden with Damien and looks forward to taking care of them every day
Damien lights candles every evening with his powers and changes the colours of the flames
Hush loves cats and is very attracted to anything cat related: decorations, patterns, clothing, etc
Doc paints and sometimes Hush watches them silently
Hush likes bright colours like yellow and orange
Bright is 16. Frederick is 17. (imagine looking 16 forever ☠️ never getting that glow up huh)
When Sam introduced them to Darlin' at a clan meeting they couldn't stop giggling and bringing up embarrassing things about Sam when he wasn't looking (imagine when they sense the bite >:D)
After feeling empathetic regarding the circumstances of their turning, Vincent acted as a rich uncle to Fred & Bright, buying them gifts, taking them places, etc.
Bright Eyes was in their emo phase when they was turned and had long black hair
HUXLEY USED TO CHEW WITH HIS MOUTH OPEN FOR YEARS - its cute when he does it ok hes like nom nom nom :3
Hush read that you get people cards on their birthday and special occasions so on Doc‘s birthday he gave them a "congrats on your first born" card
Huxley is the biggest Abba fan to ever exist
Sam wrote a message to his future self in 10 years before he was turned…oh boy..someone write a fic about him finding it like only recently or sumn
milo headcanons >:)
cuz i didnt do any in the last part…so he gets his own section
CREDIT TO THE MILO ENTHUSIAST HIMSELF FOR THESE <333 @qhoaaaa (these r just straight copy pasted i hope thats ok 😭)
Curly hair thats shaved on the sides (got hc from this one Milo fanart I saw last year and its stuck with me ever since like yes that is his hair)
Had a lip piercing once but only for a few months bc he got scared of the side effects (metal moving on the teeth can deteriorate them 🤓)
Tiddies
Takes very good care of his teeth like damn they're white ash you'd think they're fake
Heavily had a phase as a teen where he wanted to split his tongue in two like that snake tongue shit
Tons of rings. TOOONNNSSSS (bc of Erik in that one stream with a shit on of rings on) (Milo's poor so he mightve made one himself as a kid and kept it for emotional value and the rest grew in quality so he makes his own rings and doesn't care how shitty they are and likes to nit pick at jewelers)
Hand crafts jewelry BAM. makes SH a necklace BAM. matching necklaces BAM. "Whered you get that?" "Up your moms ass" BAM (gets really cocky when he's blinged out OKAYY)
ALSO MADE AGGRO HIS OWN NAME TAG
painter Milo
Milo who loves to sketch landscapes
Then gets into drawing people bc of a picture he took of Sweetheart once and then was like , fuck they look too pretty ... let me grab my paint
Next thing you know there's a HUGEE canvas of the same picture hung up in their living room
It took days for Milo to complete bc he wanted it to be top notch and accurate with how they look and mostly bc of the landscape bc nature and shit yippee
(There could be room for me to add that Milo paints wedding pictures for the double wedding SGRJEGEEJSHW)
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angellsell · 2 days
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End and Begin
Summary: some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together, you and Aaron are two of them Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Genre: angst [oneshot] Warning(s): none A/N: day twenty-six of the marchhotchness event by @hotchfiles
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Some people are meant to fall in love with each other but are not meant to be together. It's a cruel twist of fate, a bitter irony that mocks the heart's desires. And I've come to understand this truth all too well, tangled in the bittersweet threads of love and loss.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered prayer, a ghost of affection that refuses to fade. From the moment our eyes first met, I knew there was something inexplicably special about him. His smile was a beacon of warmth in a world often shrouded in darkness, his laughter a melody that echoed in the depths of my soul and that could only be heard in the solitude of our being.
We were inseparable, two souls entwined in a dance of passion and devotion. Every moment spent in his presence was a treasure, each touch a symphony of longing and desire. His hands in mine, his gentle touch of fingers in my hair while lying in my bed were heaven on earth. We carved out our own little universe, where time stood still and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.
But beneath the surface of what I thought was the start of a perfect love, cracks began to form. Fissures of doubt and insecurity widened with each passing day, threatening to swallow us whole. His laughter, once a symphony of joy, began to sound strained as if trying to mask the growing distance between us. His smiles became fleeting, his touch hesitant.
I tried to ignore the signs, to cling to the illusion of happiness we had constructed around us. We both painted over the splits with false promises and whispered reassurances, hoping against hope that our love would weather the storm. But reality has a way of tearing down walls, exposing the fragile truth hidden beneath the facade.
Late nights turned into early mornings filled with shouted arguments and tear-stained apologies. We danced around the elephant in the room, tiptoeing around the issues until there was no space left for silence. But no amount of avoidance could change what was happening before our very eyes.
I poured my heart out to him, laying bare my fears and insecurities in the hopes of bridging the growing chasm between us. But his response was always the same, a hesitant nod, a half-hearted attempt at reassurance that only served to deepen the divide.
And so, we drifted further and further apart, like ships passing in the night, destined for different horizons. Our once vibrant being became a shadow of its former self, a hollow shell of what could have been. And as I watched him slip through my fingers like grains of sand, I knew that our time together was drawing to a close.
But even as the end came near, I couldn't bring myself to let go. I clung to him desperately, as if by holding on tight enough, I could stop the inevitable from happening. But some things are beyond our control, and our love was one of them.
Words left unspoken hung heavy in the air, suffocating us with their weight. And in the silence that followed, I realized that some bonds are too fragile to withstand the trials of life.
Aaron. His name lingered on my lips like a whispered secret, a desperate prayer for him to stay as he was walking his way out of my door, out of my life.
We were never meant to last, we were destined to unravel at the seams like a threadbare tapestry. And as I stand here now, alone in the wreckage of what once was, I can't help but wonder if it was all just a cruel trick of fate.
We were over, and the worst thing is we never began.
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kesshavx · 1 day
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Resilience
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Hey everyone!
I wanted to jot down a quick note regarding Nanami and his portrayal in this story. While I've taken inspiration from the character you know and love, I understand that my interpretation may not be entirely accurate to the original series.I've endeavored to capture Nanami's essence and bring him to life in my own writing, but please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and my own creative interpretation. I apologize if there are any deviations from his established traits or if certain aspects don't align perfectly with your expectations.That being said, I hope you can still enjoy the story and the interactions involving Nanami. I've aimed to create a compelling narrative that showcases his strengths, complexities, and the impact he has on the other characters.Thank you for your understanding and for giving this story a chance. I appreciate your support and hope you find plenty of enjoyment
Pairings➪Nanami kento x female reader
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The mission had been grueling, a battle against a formidable curse. As a second-year special grade sorcerer, you shouldered the weight of immense responsibility. However, despite your power, the curse had managed to evade capture, leaving you injured and consumed by guilt.
Days turned into weeks, and the wound on your waist festered beneath the surface. You carried on, wearing a façade of strength, but inside, the turmoil was relentless. No one suspected the storm raging within you as you navigated through your daily routine, feeling the weight of your perceived failure.
The arrival of the Kyoto students brought a festive atmosphere to Jujutsu High. Amidst the excitement, a grand party was organized to celebrate the goodwill event. Laughter and joy permeated the air, but your heart remained heavy with self-doubt and remorse.
In the midst of the revelry, Mai, caught up in the festivities, accidentally struck your injured area. A surge of agony coursed through your body, and you winced, desperately trying to conceal your distress. Unable to bear the pain any longer, you excused yourself quietly, retreating to a quiet place away from prying eyes.
As you found solace in the solitude, your pain overwhelmed you. The weight of guilt and self-condemnation bore down upon your shoulders, and the walls you had built around your emotions crumbled. Collapsing to the ground, you curled up, tears streaming down your face as your body trembled with anguish.
Unbeknownst to you, Nanami Kento, ever perceptive, had noticed your departure from the festivities. His concern grew with each passing moment, and he followed your trail, determined to find you. And find you he did, your body wracked with sobs, crumpled on the floor.
"Nanami-sensei," you choked out, your voice filled with pain and self-blame, "I'm... I'm a special grade. I let that curse get away. I failed... I failed everyone."
Nanami's gaze hardened, disappointment etched into his features. He knelt beside you, his voice firm yet laced with concern. "You are a special grade, yes, but that doesn't make you invincible. Failure is a part of our journey, and it's how we respond to it that defines us."
His words carried a touch of sternness, emphasizing the gravity of your mistakes. Yet, as you glanced up at him through tear-blurred vision, you noticed a glimmer of compassion in his eyes. It was a silent promise that he wouldn't abandon you in your darkest moments.
"But remember," Nanami continued, his voice softening, "failure doesn't diminish your worth or your potential. It's an opportunity for growth, to learn from your mistakes and become better. You are not alone in this. We're here to support you, to help you rise above your setbacks."
With those words, Nanami gently cradled you in his arms, drawing you close to his chest. The pain in your body still lingered, but his presence offered solace and comfort. He held you tightly, his touch reassuring as he whispered words of encouragement, reminding you that you were not defined by your failures.
In that quiet moment, feeling the warmth of Nanami's embrace, you began to find solace amidst the turmoil. His scolding had ignited a spark of determination within you, but it was his kindness and understanding that mended the shattered pieces of your spirit.
Time seemed to stand still as Nanami held you, supporting you through your pain. He provided a safe haven where vulnerability was embraced, and you felt a glimmer of hope rekindling within your heart. With his unwavering support, you knew you could find the strength to face the challenges ahead.
As you lay cradled in Nanami's arms, the pain gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sense of comfort and acceptance. Your tears subsided, and a newfound resolve took root within you. You knew the road to redemption would not be easy, but with Nanami by your side, you felt ready to face it together.
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oheck-trainwreck · 2 days
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I adore the helicopter news reporter bit, so I’m making it an AU.
It’s called ‘The Catastrophe Crew’ (unless someone has a better name) and it follows the crew of a news helicopter for channel 11. Also it’s a tv show.
This news helicopter specializes in disaster reporting, earning them the nickname ‘catastrophe crew.’ It starts out as natural disasters, like forest fires and flash floods, but in later episodes, it escalates to bigger stuff like an alien invasion and zombie apocalypse.
Through some bullshit or other they always manage to save the day, letting the planet live another day.
Characters:
Badboyhalo: the main character, cameraman turned news reporter. Everyone else who has been assigned to work as the catastrophe crew’s reporter has either died or been relocated by upper management, which means that bad often had to step in and finish the field reporting. Eventually they realized it was better to just have him report from behind the camera.
Tubbo: the helicopter pilot. He often makes commentary and snide comments that only bad can hear (his mic only connects to the headphone communication system, while Bad’s connects to the station’s broadcast audio systems (I don’t know how this stuff works :/ )). I’m not sure what else he would do, but he’d be a part of the main cast
There might be other members of the crew in the helicopter, but I’m not sure who (send ideas!)
Skeppy (maybe): the catastrophe crew’s in-studio reporter. He was the helicopter reporter for a short while, but got moved by upper management. Everyone knows that there is something going on between him and bad, but no one’s sure exactly what.
Cucurucho: upper management. He low key has a crush on bad, but bad is oblivious. Cucurucho removed skeppy from the in-copter crew because he got jealous of how close they were.
Frank: used to be one of the crew’s field reporters, he is now MIA after a helicopter crash in a disaster. Everyone believes he’s dead, but bad is convinced he’s still out there somewhere. Frank owes bad 10 dollars.
I want to include more Qsmp members, but I’m not sure where to put them. If you have any ideas, please send them.
I’ll probably draw some of the characters later (when I have time), but for now it’s just a vague concept.
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juniefruit · 2 days
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☆ Artist Hyunjin Part Two ☆
☆ AHHHH skz anniversary!!! wishing the boys the best!
☆ Originally written as bestie/roommate, but it's up to your interpretation!
☆ Warnings: None
☆ Word Count: 1,000
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Hyunjin is an artist. In every sense. He can see the beauty in all things, big or small. He can observe something that might seem mundane, but he always finds a way to reveal its true beauty. 
There’s one shelf in his room dedicated to all of his old sketchbooks. Each and every page is filled to the brim with sketches, sticky notes, and pencil smudges. His room has fairy lights adorning the ceiling and dried flowers preserved and on display. An easel sits in the corner. It’s cozy and warm. His desk, oh my. At least a few miscellaneous cups filled with pencils of all shades and colors, markers, and paintbrushes are always in the corner. Really, he tries his best to keep it organized, but when an idea strikes, and he’s frantically trying to get everything on paper, it becomes the least of his worries. 
You do sometimes scold him, especially when you find a paint stain on your sweater. You don’t know how it got there, but it’s most definitely Hyunjin’s doing. Sometimes, you’ll be chilling on the couch together when suddenly his eyes light up, he straightens his posture, and speed walks to his bedroom/studio. “Hyunie, what??” “I finally got it! I need to write this down before I forget!” You chuckle, following him to his room. 
One of Hyunjin's bigger art pieces is on display in the living room. It’s an abstract piece that looks great against the beige wall. Hyunjin was reluctant to hang it up, but you insisted. “It’s embarrassing, y/nie!” He whined. “What’s embarrassing about it? This is amazing! And I'm hanging it up if you won’t.” You huff. 
It’s very rare that Hyunjin asks you to be his real-time model for a painting. The reason is he doesn’t want to trouble you and have you sit, sometimes for hours, while he works. Instead, he loves to secretly keep pictures of you in his ‘inspiration’ folder on his phone. At this point though, he can sketch you in his sleep. Pages upon pages in his sketchbook are filled with your portrait from all angles. You’re his muse. His inspiration. His hand has memorized how to sketch all the curves and angles of your face and body. Sometimes he’ll be buried nose deep in his sketchbook, and the only sound you can hear is the gentle scratch of the pencil against the paper. You’ll ask what he’s drawing, but he would never admit what it actually is. Once in a while he’ll look up at you and smile, as you sit across from him on the couch. You look ethereal in the afternoon sun, he thinks. Maybe one day he’ll gather the courage to gift you a portrait, or show you a sketch. He knows deep down you would love it. But his nerves are like a blockade. Every artist knows how troubling it can be to show your art to the world. It’s like showing a part of yourself, your soul. 
Today was friday, an end to a stressful and high-strung week. To destress, you told Hyunjin to put on a casual outfit. You simply said you’re ‘going out’. He decided upon cafe-brown corduroy pants, a sweater vest and a white blouse under it. The top half of his hair was pinned back with a claw clip. You were taking him to the art supply store. It wasn’t that far, just a few subway stops. He didn’t have a clue until you arrived. His eyes lit up when you told him to pick something out. Like a kid in a candy store, he was snaking through the aisles, his hair bouncing when he walked. As Hyunjin was at the back of one of the store aisles, he had a moment to think. He decided that he’d draw you with the materials he bought. And then show you. He could feel the nerves creeping up his spine just at the thought. But he was set. When you checked out, he chose a few sketching materials like a specialized pencil and eraser. The second you stepped out of the store, he hugged you so tight your face turned pink. 
He won’t admit he stayed up all night, long after he assured you that he’s actually going to sleep. He’s dialed in, leaning over his desk. A sheet of drawing paper, about the size of a laptop, sits on the wooden paint-stained surace. His eyes squint behind his glasses as he studies each and every stroke of his pencil. Once in a while he even bites the end of the pencil in his right hand as he concentrates. The eyes of your portrait stare up at him with grace and innocence, like a sunny spring day. It was maybe around 5 AM before he finally deemed it good enough and headed to bed. The next day, after you both got back from work/school, he met you in the living room, with his hands behind his back. “I um- I made you something, as a thank you… for the art supplies and, uh- for being in my life.” he extends his hands to show you the portrait of yourself as his face flushes with shyness. “Wow, Hyunie! This- it’s so beautiful! Thank you!” You take the sheet of paper gingerly with both hands. You set it on the coffee table before facing Hyunjin. “Really, you didn’t have to do that. And I’m glad you’re in my life, too. Um-” You look back at the portrait. “How did you make me look so good?” Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat. His hand reaches to rub at the back of his neck with a shy smile. “It’s just you, y/n. I thought that you’d appreciate seeing how beautiful you are in my eyes.” He admits. You hum, totally at a loss for words. “Well, you were right.” You say with sincerity. Looking back up at him, you say,  “Speaking of eyes, are those dark circles?”
Read more drabbles & such here~ masterlist
Asks/requests are open!
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fandomfluffandfuck · 3 days
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TELL ME ABOUT THE SHOES!!!
related to this
Okay, okay, okay, first, I have to mention that every day I drive home from college, I drive past two different sex shops and one strip club and one of these sex shops has an LED sign that advertises a bunch of different spicy stuff, and the other day they had one word up--
Shoes
And upon reading that, I was hit over the back of the head with the first shoe-related thought I have that relates to fandom:
You always want what you can't have
Bucky mentioning in Captain America: Civil War how Steve used to wear newspapers in his shoes speaks to me about the depression, how he must've had beat up, worn out, hand-me-down shoes with newspapers stuffed in them to make them fit better, to make them warmer in the winter, to try and at least make them feel like there weren't holes in the bottoms of them. Steve drawing here and there throughout the Captain America movies--drawing himself as a dancing monkey, sketching buildings--makes me think of his artistic eye. An artistic eye that we see beyond drawing, with his comments about Stark Tower being big and ugly, plus, similarly with, according to Steve, the ugly brown van they use to save the world. Both Bucky's comment of the way things used to be and Steve's appreciation for aesthetic makes me imagine that Steve could gravitate toward shoes. Pretty, slim "women's shoes," as well as generally shiny, bulky "men's shoes."
The first time he notices shoes is early, when he watches his Ma slip into her Sunday best heels. Her stockings might be laddered and torn because she doesn't have enough pairs to have a special Sunday pair--she needs to use all the ones she has when she's nursing, dealing with all sorts of untold grossities at work, often throwing them out--but this pair of shoes look brand new. She takes good care of them, so much so that Steve's not allowed to touch them. Her Sunday best heels are hardly scuffed or creased because she never wears them to work or anything, just to church. They're pretty and special, and on the way, she's always careful, not stepping in puddles, on cracks, or anything.
The way his Ma treats her Sunday best shoes makes Steve investigate during church, more interested in eyeing all the other special shoes than listening to the preaching that Sunday, peering over the open Bible his Ma holds out in front of him. He's cataloging all the differences between the men's and women's shoes. Both kinds are shiny, but women's shoes are especially so. Angular and polished and bright, often with tiny details that men's shoes don't get the luxury of having--tiny buckles, little bows, patterns pressed into or cut out of the leather, etc. Women's shoes are so delicate, clicking across the floor while men's land much heavier, more of a clunk. A thunk even.
As soon as he's drawing, his interest translates there, too. It's the shine, reflective and glinting, every crease exemplified; the angles, shapely and precise; the colors, usually more muted but occasionally very bright and attention grabbing, either way, they're always saturated. It's fascinating to draw shoes. The lines are so clean that it's easy to make a mistake. And it's so challenging to capture the way the positioning of the shoes changes the shape of the whole thing! But that's what makes it interesting. Every angle holds new details. Steve discovers quickly that he can tell stories through shoes, too... where the creases are and how many there are, scuffs, rough leather, loose threads, color bright and bold or not, the angle he draws the shoes from, too--looking down at them from where he stands, lying on his belly and sketching straight on, detailing the bottoms--there are endless possibilities.
But, as Steve gets older and the more it sits in his head, the more it becomes something deeper until it's something beyond a passive, special interest. Beyond somewhere where his eyes always go when he meets someone new--glancing at their footwear just to see. It becomes something of desire.
Desired because of how forbidden it is. Women's shoes are for girls. Steve isn't a girl. He can't have them. He wasn't allowed to touch them. He's still not allowed to touch them.
There is a desire for men's shoes, too, but he knows men's shoes. He appreciates the sound of a big, tall man walking down an alleyway by the hidden bars around their run-down cold water walk-up with the swaggering thunk thunk thunk of their boots on the street. He does like that. Something about it makes shivers crawl up his crooked spine. But, he knows them. Bucky wears work boots. They live in a heap next to their front door. Plus, Steve has his own shoes. Men's shoes are familiar.
Steve buries his desire for men's shoes deeper, for whatever reason. It has nothing to do with internalized homophobia, no, why do you ask?
Women's shoes, though...
They're forbidden and unknown. The closest Steve's gotten to fancy, truly bright, and angular ladies' shoes (outside of staring at them through shop windows) was when Bucky brought home a blonde dame--Steve never got her name, she just came and left once--with a rich Daddy. Her shoes were kicked off by the door when Steve got home, sitting fallen over next to Bucky's heavy boots. Steve's heart pounded unevenly in his thin chest, just seeing them together. Darting between the shoes. The contrast.
(That dame must've been short, too, like Steve. Her shoes were so little, especially next to Bucky's. By the looks of it, they might even fit Steve. Maybe. He wouldn't dare touch them, though, not even to straight them in the way he grumbles but organizes Bucky's footwear.)
The second time Steve really comes close to the off-limit territory of women's shoes is after the serum, dragging through the USO Tour with all the chorus girls. Their glittery, flashy, short, and bright uniforms. Meant to attract, so can Steve be blamed? Because suddenly, it seems like Steve can't go ten feet without tripping over one of the girls' pairs of shiny, bright, tall heels.
Once, just once, one of the gals leaves her heels behind. She's going back home, her service done with, so...
With his heart pounding strongly in his broad chest, practically echoing through it, he swears, Steve grabs them. Hastily stuffing them under his trench coat and wisking them back to his private tent--the luxury of being a technical captain.
Alone and in private, Steve knows just looking at them, understanding space strangely well these days, that they're too small for his feet. Even if they weren't too small, Steve is sure he couldn't bear to try them on. Not here. What would he do anyway? He's never thought past getting his hands on ladies' shoes. He couldn't walk with them on. Could he? No. He would be scared of someone hearing the click click click. And he couldn't... he doesn't have anyone to... show?
So, what would be the point?
There isn't one. And Steve doesn't even try to put them on. Instead, he sets one of the pair of the heels in his lap. Cradling it, the shoe is a lot lighter than he expected it to be. The material is much thinner than he thought even though he's drawn shoes a ton. He's studied them. And he studies them again now, up-close and personal, just... looking.
He just holds it.
Without realizing it, he starts to subconsciously stroke the shiny, patriotic-colored leather. It's so smooth. It's cold to start, but quickly, it isn't anymore, warming up to him. The heel isn't as sharp on the edges as he would've thought, but it's not too soft, either.
He's more familiar, having it in his hold, but they're still exciting. Fascinating. Interesting. No matter how often he sneaks away to hold one or both of the stolen shoes in his hands, they're still so different.
They're special.
Steve loses the pair when he walks to Austria. He's not sure what happened to them, and he's afraid to ask. Did someone find them? If they did, what did they think? At worst, they probably just thought Steve spent the night with one of the chorus gals, right? They wouldn't know about... about what Steve did? (And what did he do? He just held them!?) He can't stop thinking about them, though. His hands are so calloused these days, and all his shirts are grimy and coming apart at the seams, holes everywhere, and wouldn't it just be nice to touch something smooth?
Bucky sees through him and asks him what he's missing, but he falls before Steve can say it out loud. So, the secret dies with him.
Steve doesn't let himself think about something so soft and delicate when he wakes up. He can't stomach it.
Eventually
Bucky is back.
Steve has Bucky back.
And they're both trying to heal.
Healing takes many shapes... including, apparently, the shape of a sleek, biege box with a looping, white font delivered to their front door, which contains rich, red, and shimmering tissue paper, fragile and weightless, and a pair of matching, shiny black heels with blood red bottoms.
Steve doesn't even want to know what they cost Bucky. He vaguely grasps the pop culture knowledge to understand how infamous heels like these are, how expensive they are, and he's not dumb enough to miss all the details, thoughtfulness, and exorbitant materials. Shockingly, they have money now, existing somewhere, acrewing in a bank account that feels like it belongs to someone else entirely, and between the two of them, Steve is the one who doesn't know what to do with it. Bucky knows.
Bucky knows.
Bucky bought him a pair of heels, not so bright, save for the bottoms, but still delicate and shiny and alluring. The shoes feel more like Bucky's style than Steve's and... Steve likes that. He likes that Bucky chose them, he likes that he wants to see him in them, and he likes that they're here.
Steve's almost afraid to put the shoes on, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across the smooth, perfect surface. He's not even sure if he wants to put them on or not. He's only ever drawn or held shoes like these. He's not put them on. Does he want to cross that line? Is that even a line? After all the things he's done, is this even daring?
What if it's not special? What if it's not as good as he wants it to be? Does he want it to be good? What's good?
Should he put them on?
Steve's head is so full of questions that he can't do anything but stand there, a contemplative statue; Steve's supposed to be brave and daring, but there are moments where even he's allowed to hesitate.
Right?
Bucky isn't so hesitant. He knows his best guy is going to look killer in those heels, and he knows whatever Steve has built this up to be in his head... it'll be fine. He just has to let go and do it.
With some convincing and a few charming grins, Steve puts the red bottomed heels on and...
It's good.
It's better than he imagined.
While he's wearing them--falling apart at the seams and succumbing weakly to the fever raging through him--Bucky fucks him hard. Deep and good. Leaving Steve unable to hold back the ah, ah, ahs that pour out from inside him and causing him to put bruises, dents really, in Bucky's back with how tight his legs are wrapped around his stocky waist. He can't. Bucky's dick hits his prostate again and again. Oh, god. It's making him so weak--his dick always does. It forces Steve's brains to melt out of his ears, struck stupid with his lips falling open, bright red and wet.
With another hammering, ah, ah, ah, dick carving so deep in him, sparking and hot, desire courses through Steve so strongly that his toes curl until the soles of his feet cramp. As his toes curl, it forces the shiny heels to slip off of his feet just as he crashes through his orgasm. His moans pitching higher--shattering suddenly, shaking apart with the pleasure coursing through him.
Bucky is merciful enough to fuck him through his orgasm, leaving him a whimpering, shaking mess, all too docile and sweet, but he doesn't say merciful. He's awful. Terrible. Evil because he's slowing his hips to a filthy, deep grind. It's slow enough to have Steve's gasping, his body electric and white-hot, making him go haywire and stay achingly hard. He doesn't do anything about it, though. He doesn't reach to jack him off or touch him or do anything but--
Bucky spares one hand to grab the shoe from where it landed haphazardly on their ruffled bed before sliding it back onto Steve's foot after using his strength to uncurl his leg from around his waist, straightening his leg so the back of his knee is at Bucky's shoulder, all so he can put the stray heel back onto him.
He's so flexible.
The position makes Bucky's cock get in deeper.
AH!
Fuck, Bucky is treating him like he's delicate and cute, kissing the thick curves of his muscles and making sure nothing is out of place as he worships him, fucking him like he isn't soft or delicate or nothing. It's like he's being fucking out to make sure Steve's heated draw to heels is even worse after this!
Also, secondly, I keep thinking about:
You wear your devotion on your sleeve
By the time Steve gets to the front and gets to Bucky, pulling him from the jaws of Hell, dangling above its throat, on the cusp of being swallowed, Steve is fucking sick of...
Everything?
He's sick of being in a body that doesn't fit. Chronic illnesses first. A lifetime of rasping lungs and fatigue that follows him like a shadow, always growing taller and longer with the ever slowing dip of the sun in the sky. Then. This. Whatever this is. A body that attracts attention, eyes always dragging over his form, never leaving him alone when before no one would ever even glance his way. He was invisible and agonized; now, he's in the spotlight and burning up.
Something in him yearns to be small again.
The only refuge he finds for that is at Bucky's feet.
He finds the feeling of being small yet respected, taking up no space at all but still being seen and heard, at Bucky's feet while he's shining his boots. He knows how much appearance matters to Bucky. His hair is always done just so, even in the middle of the rain and wind and wilderness. He's always freshly shaven, no matter if there's running water nearby or not. And his boots are always shining, never mud caked like all the others.
So, when Bucky ended up with bruises shading his ribs, barely able to sit up, let alone bend over or breathe as good as he should be able to...
It's only natural that Steve offers to shine his boots for inspection for him.
At first, honestly, it's terrible. He's holding Bucky's leg as delicately as he possibly can, scared to even slightly squeeze him too hard and leave more bruises or, god forbid, break his bones, but Bucky won't have it. Bucky tugs on his hair, shaking his head to get the point across, making sure he's looking up at him before he assures him he won't hurt him. He can't. He needn't hold him so delicately, and, c'mon, if his boots are gonna be clean, he needs to put some more muscle behind it. A smile cracks across his face, and, suddenly, it's all good.
It's great.
It's so fucking nice to be staring up at his familiar face and be small and--
How does Bucky convince him to wrap himself around his leg and grind against his newly polished boots until he's messing them up, so he has to lick them clean again? 😮‍💨😮‍💨
(I wanted this to be longer, but I don't have the time right now, ughh)
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finncakes · 1 year
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happy birthday to the worst guy ever <3
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I think that Dr. Christina "I was an excellent soldier" Raynor needs to deal with some personal things before she's anyone's therapist, because she strong-armed more of Bucky's autonomy away from him than Zemo did within the series.
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marchsage · 4 months
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i had the delightful opportunity to draw green's birthday banner for specord!!! happy birthdayyyy to the guy of all time :3!!!
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beeholyshit · 2 months
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I never properly said how they met so...
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thedrotter · 20 days
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help i cant stop drawing him he's so silly goofy ...
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frecklydork · 7 months
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i know nobody is online rn to read this but ;-; i gotta get it off my chest i love ken so much he means everything to me he's making me so happy and i've needed him so so so bad. he's brought me comfort when my ptsd has been so fucking unbearable and every time i'm having a crying fit over losing my tf f/os or every time i'm having a flashback i ALWAYS immediately IMMEDIATELY think about him rushing to my side, holding me and saying "hey hey it's okay, i'm here, i'm right here" and it's such a relief because i haven't been able to genuinely wholeheartedly believe any character would be willing to do that for me the entire time i've been struggling this year.
i've never gone so long without comfort from f/os, much less being triggered by the ones who used to comfort me the most. so to have barbie and ken right now is like the biggest wave of relief every single day when i wake up and the hyperfixation is still there. sometimes i will literally close my eyes and sigh in relief when i hear a song and my first thought is sebastian or ken or six or... whomever. i love being in love again. i NEED this. i love waking up and my first thought isn't my trauma most of the time now, it's ken. or it's six. or it's barbie. or it's harley. or it's officer k. or it's... yeah you get it. i needed these characters so fucking badly. every time i see a gifset and get excited over it, i feel a rush of gratitude bc self shipping has always been the glue holding me together. it doesn't feel as intense or strong as the SB musical or TF used to make me feel but i am not picky. not at all. i will take anything and i'm praying this lasts for at LEAST another few weeks please
i may not be at a sense of peace right now and i dont know when i ever will be, it could be years, but im so. so. so. so so so thankful to have these characters right now when i've needed someone so badly for so long. i hope ken knows how much i love him ;-; i hope barbie knows how much she has helped me, has saved me from one of my major triggers and has helped me to love and feel safe around the color pink again. i wish they could see me when i'm not so broken but i'm glad they're here even when i'm at my worst, i'm glad they still love me even when they deserve to see me in a much better light
#it feels so fucking terrible not celebrating my bday with my starlight. i used to buy myself cakes and put his figurine next to them#i mean i still have... a little bit over one week... i cant... let it pass by without him being involved somehow#so i might make a quick vent doodle and queue it for the actual day of my bday#i refuse to not draw myself with him at least once for my special day#its not like we 'broke up' or anything but fuck it feels so bad#he's a literal fucking ptsd trigger. how fucking insane is that#im still in shock. im still in shock over what happened to me like i cant fucking believe it#wearing his necklace makes me cry so i just leave it on my dresser#that shouldnt be normal!!!!#but im hoping that shipping with barbie/ken is going to help me feel like i can reclaim control over my ships#bc my abuser made me feel like... i had no control over my TF ships whatsoever for a solid year#so now that i'm finally free of that toxicity i'm still shakily trying to learn how to ship again#i'll have moments where i'll worry ken will try to hurt me on purpose bc im so used to my abuser telling me how abusive any f/o would be#but then i tell myself 'hey what the fuck. this is MY story. NOBODY would abuse me i dont care WHO they are'#but it's so hard to unlearn several months of abuse 😔#and even harder to look at a character who i invested so much time and energy and money into#my voice clips. my cameos. all of my steve blum autographs. my art for steve. all of it feels sad and numbing#not just stsc but everyone in any TF universe feels like... a threat and i get panic attacks when i see very specific characters sometimes#its awful. it hurts so bad. i love ken so much. but nothing compares to what i had with my TF comfort characters#but it's okay bc... ken is holding my hand and he might not understand ptsd at all but he can still squeeze me tight#and six HAS c-ptsd he GETS it. and he's there to hold me when my nightmares make me fall apart. he's my rock#vent#ptsd#sorry it's 5am i had a bad nightmare and now i refuse to sleep again#i fucking hate ptsd i fucking hate living like this i rly wish i knew how to cure myself#im exercising im eating and drinking often im sleeping as much as i can#theres only so much i can do#when does it get better?? when the fuck does it get better? im serious. not rhetorical. when does this finally heal#i dont even know if im healing or if im just distracted... but fuck ill take anything
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dr111ft · 5 months
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Today is Scythe's birthday (ofc he's a scorpio) so you guys get a sketch of him in elementary school
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avinox · 7 months
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Ok, so would it bother you to know that your family always buys your birthday present like 3-1 days before your birthday??
They do it with me and yes, it bothers me, but my boyfriend's birthday is in 2 days and I had to come with them to get him a present because they hadn't yet, while I like to buy my presents at least weeks in advance, carefully plan what I want to get him (or anyone), and have a backup plan in case I can't find what I was planning to.
Honestly, it feels like they don't care about anyone's birthday. What if there's nothing you think they'd like? What then? What are you going to do with so few days left??? Just "get them something"? Like, whatever, some generic gift. I'm not like that. I pay attention, taking note of possible gifts months in advance. I want that day to feel special, and I want them to feel heard, even if it was just a passing comment of something that was clear would make them happy.
I've literally told my parents exactly what I wanted months, weeks, and days in advance and they still ask me directly what I want (and then get mad at me).
I asked my mother weeks ago if she needed help to find a present for my boyfriend, and she said she had "thought of something", then refused to tell me. Today I had to advise her because she hadn't gotten anything.
Drives me mad.
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sirenscriptures · 4 months
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princess treatment - mw2 men
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✧ synopsis: men who secretly (or not so secretly) live for treating you like royalty. even in the most mundane or difficult of times, you are their personal sanctuary.
۶♡ৎ featuring: johnny “soap” mactavish, simon “ghost” riley, captain john price, alejandro vargas, and könig.
before you read: female reader, sub reader, lots and lots of body worship, praise, soft sex, a little dacryphilia if u squint, breeding, cockwarming, cunnilingus, hair pulling, fingering, mirror sex, use of pet/endearment names.
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۶♡ৎ johnny “soap” mactavish ۶♡ৎ
✧ if there’s a man who is never ashamed to spoil you in any way he can, it’s johnny. ever since you two made it official he was all over the idea of showing you off and spoiling you to no end.
✧ outside of combat and missions, you can bet he dedicates so much of his time to you–his sweet girl.
✧ god help you if he comes home from a longer mission. you will not be able to pry him away from you for days. it’s not like you mind at all, though. his kisses are everything you wanted, so weighted and passionate, and he’s not even fully through the threshold of the front door when he first sees you again.
✧ his hands are already nestled in your hair, pressing your back against the wall as his tongue slips into your mouth. with his warm breath tickling your mouth, you can’t help but let out one of the sweetest whimpers he’s ever heard. god, it never fully occurred to him how much he loved to make you whine for him.
✧ “oh banphrionsa…” he murmurs, lips moving down to your sensitive neck. “i missed you.”
✧ “i missed you, too…” you stammer out feebly, the heat rising within your cheeks. your already flustered expression sparks a familiar fire within him as he moves you into his arms, carrying you towards your shared bedroom.
✧ it doesn’t take much to get you both out of your clothes, yet johnny still can’t get over how good you look. every time he gets to see you like this, it doesn’t matter how many times, he still gets so excited over it.
✧ “shit, baby…” he murmurs, peppering kisses on your upper body as he climbs on top of you. “you make me so crazy, y’know that?”
✧ nodding, you can’t help but give him that flirty smile that he loves so much. his lips crash onto yours again, tongue relishing the taste of your mouth. meanwhile, his hands are admiring your bare body as if you’re a rare jewel.
✧ even when just kissing you, it’s clear soap adores you in every way possible. it’s evident in the way he touches, kisses, and fucks you. he never wastes a single moment with you, and is always making sure you know just how special you are.
✧ even in between thrusts, his hands and words always ensure you’re reminded that you’re his special girl—his princess. the feeling of him stretching out your walls as he continually praises you is enough to draw you to tears—from both overstimulation and emotion.
✧ when he can tell you’re close to an orgasm, he pulls you closer into him even more, thrusts going deeper and deeper each moment. “i love you so much, sweetheart.” he groans, seed sputtering inside of you as your back arches against his chest, the sweetest moans flowing from your lips as you finish along with him.
۶♡ৎ simon “ghost” riley ۶♡ৎ
✧ for someone so reserved as simon, it was no surprise how much he valued your time alone together.
✧ in the past, he really preferred to be by himself when he had the time to spare. he always felt most himself when he wasn’t around too many people. but over time, it became natural that you were with him in these moments that brought him great peace.
✧ but past all things missions and duty, he deeply cherished when he got to be home alone with you. that way, he felt completely devoted to treating you the way you always deserved: like royalty.
✧ well, his version of royalty in this sense was a bit different than the conventional meaning of the term. but, in true simon fashion, it was quite fitting. and plus, he knew you loved it.
✧ the way he held you so perfectly in front of the mirror, hands caressing your body as his cock plunged in and out of you, he made sure you felt within every inch that you were all his.
✧ with your walls fluttering around him, you made it so much harder for him to hold back. simon knew you felt the same, the way your breaths depleted to mere shudders, your eyes glazing over with the faintest hint of tears.
✧ gently, his hand cupped under your chin, making you stare at your delicate frame against his broad chest. “now, now, sweet girl…” he purrs, breath tingling on your neck.
✧ “i can’t have you breaking on me now, can i?” his slightly raspy tone is loving, yet teasing you at the same time as a calloused thumb swipes away a tear streaking down your cheek. simon has always hated seeing you cry, but when he can make you cry from pure pleasure, you can bet that makes him feel on top of the world.
✧ “i need you to see how pretty you are, love.” you don’t even have to see his full face to feel his smirk against you. not even his full coverage mask could hide that from you on his best day.
✧ there is a sense of pride in his gaze as he looks at you through your reflection. with his hand under your chin, your expression is absolutely priceless. your glassed-over, desperate eyes practically plead for more, and your kiss-swollen lips are still as irresistible as ever. he can’t hide how proud he is that he’s made a mess of you–his sweet girl.
✧ “there you are, princess.” he teases, watching you stare at yourself in a daze. his thrusts are slow in and out of you as a free hand rubs and pinches at your nipples. your head falls back onto his shoulder, another broken moan falling from your agape mouth. simon feels you clenching around him again, the feeling earning a growl from him.
✧ but still, his thrusts remain tender and slow, ensuring you feel every part of him. as much as he’d love to ravage you with rough, fast thrusts, he loves your reactions to his deep, slow pace far too much in this moment. plus, this was all about your pleasure.
✧ it isn’t long before his warm seed is ribboning inside you, eventually dribbling down your quivering thighs as your orgasm joins with his own. your noises are so sweet, something he can never get enough of. and the look of you is enough to make him fall in love with you thousands of times over.
✧ he smiles at you, lips colliding messily with yours, admiring how warm your face is as he holds you. “you did so well for me,” he murmurs, breathing in your comforting scent. “my pretty girl.”
۶♡ৎ john price ۶♡ৎ
✧ believe it or not, captain price could be quite the romantic type. though, as a man with such a stoic position as a captain, that side never got much of a chance to reveal itself. unless, of course, he was alone with his favorite woman in the world…
✧ getting to see him in such a rare position felt so special to you. he was so sweet and gentle with you, it always found a way to make you swoon. and you bet price adored having that effect over you.
✧ the fact his mere touch could make you melt beneath him was enthralling, and definitely made him want more. of course, what better way to do that than to spoil you, right? after all, that was his favorite thing to do when he had his time with you.
✧ but it was his absolute favorite when he could be in between your legs, and he could stay there for hours. the feeling of you squirming beneath him had so many ways of making him feral for you, and he knew you loved it when he got to that point.
✧ while his tongue swirled over your sensitive clit, he could feel your hips bucking into his face ever so slightly, your noises growing louder each moment. you could hardly contain yourself any longer, and price adored every second of it.
✧ every few minutes, he would lay sweet kisses over your folds, fingers teasing your entrance from time to time. “sweetheart, you have no idea the things you do to me…” he breathes out, suckling at the sensitive bud again.
✧ your back starts to arch at his words, hands gripping tightly at the sheets. price lets out a satisfied chuckle as his fingers finally push inside your wetness. the feeling of your walls is just as he expects: heavenly. you’re so warm and welcoming to his fingers, it's almost hard for him not to push himself into you as a whole right then and there.
✧ “close already, yeah?” he teases, mouth still working at you, his fingers doing the same. the look in your eye confirms that for him, making his blood rush with excitement as your bottom lip hooks beneath your teeth.
✧ he smirks at you from between your legs. “well, allow me to help with that, angel.” price let his fingers curl inside of you towards your sweet spot, earning a strangled cry from you, your back arching even more.
✧ as his tongue slithered about your wetness, he marveled at the way you tightened around his fingers, especially when you released yourself. you sounded so sweet, and he couldn’t deny he wanted more of that from you.
✧ his lips finally met with yours, pulling your body close to his again. though, he was nowhere near done with you, he knew he wanted to admire you in this pleasure-filled haze just a bit more…
۶♡ৎ alejandro vargas ۶♡ৎ
✧ despite his roughened, at times crass exterior, alejandro had no problem showing his soft, vulnerable side to you and only you. he seldom ever let that gentle side slip outwards in front of just anybody, so you considered yourself lucky to have grown this close to him.
✧ besides, nothing could ever beat having those hypnotic dark eyes and that charming smile of his directed at you, and only you.
✧ but there was something about that certain…look you gave him in these moments that filled him with an endless desire to please you and spoil your body in so many different ways. it was that sweet, almost innocent look with a small lip bite that could make him fold you over in a matter of seconds.
✧ one thing about alejandro is that he preferred when he could take his time with you. he was the last one who wanted a quickie or something short. if he was going to pleasure his love, he was going to make sure you felt it.
✧ so when he has you sprawled out on the bed, cockwarming him as he caresses every inch of you, he can’t help but tease you just a bit from time to time. your whole body responds to him so perfectly, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. can you really blame him?
✧ “ale…” you mewl out shakily, the feeling of his lips on your neck nearly pushing you over the edge. he smirks at you, hands continuing to massage your breasts. “hmm?” he hums against your skin, still leaving pretty marks all over you.
✧ you can barely even form words in this state. “mmmh, need you…” you stagger, breath hitching as his tongue starts to swirl around your protruding nipple.
✧ “you need to use your words, mi vida.” he presses a kiss to your neck again, taking you by the chin gently so he can stare at you properly. “what do you need from me?”
✧ alejandro’s gaze is soft yet still commanding, easily sending a shiver down your back. you take a breath, cupping his face in your hand. “i…need you to fuck me, please.” you manage, that sweet look that drove him feral still in your eyes.
✧ his lips press messily against you, a hand wrapping around your neck now. “que educada, princesa.” he chuckles, admiring how you tremble beneath him as he starts to move.
✧ his growls only add to your pleasure as he pushes deep inside you, your walls responding with a warm clench, making his grip on your hips tighter. you can feel your orgasm growing closer, moans growing shaky and incoherent.
✧ listening to his name fall so shattered from your lips pushed him over the edge, cum spilling into you as he watched in awe as your legs trembled and you clenched around him a final time.
✧ between warm, breathless kisses, he smiles at you again. “you’re so good to me, amor.” he says, pulling you close to his chest.
۶♡ৎ könig ۶♡ৎ
✧ in all honesty, könig has no idea how he got so lucky to have you. you were everything and more he could’ve ever asked for in a woman.
✧ even though he was far from inexperienced in the world of relationships and intimacy, you had a way of making him feel like it was the first time in every moment he got to spend with you.
✧ but some of his favorite moments came from when he got to spoil you. it didn’t matter if it was taking a lazy day where you stayed home or in bed for hours in the late morning, or if he was taking you out to one of your favorite places, as long as he was in your company, he was more than content.
✧ but if he had to pick an absolute favorite pastime with you… it had to be when he was able to worship you from head to toe.
✧ there was something so enthralling for both of you, having such a large man, in nothing but his boxers, on his knees in front of you, kissing every single inch of you as you sat on the bed, staring down in admiration.
✧ könig’s gentle expression as he looks up at you still has the power to give you butterflies even after being together for so long. the closer his mouth gets to the fabric of your underwear, he gives you a look until you eventually nod, making his lips spread into a smile.
✧ peeling the fabric to the side, his tongue swirls over your wetness. your back arches in response, head falling back as you let a moan escape. hearing you in this state drives him even further, pulling you by your hips against his face.
✧ even when you’re trembling, he continues. your moans have broken down to shaky sobs as he tonguefucks you, his growls vibrating against you. he can’t get enough of your taste, even when you’ve already come for him.
✧ eventually, he pulls away, licking his lips before kissing a trail up your stomach. his eyes stare into yours lovingly, fingers running through your hair.
✧ “you did so well, meine liebe.” he praises, kissing your neck before smirking. “but i’m nowhere near done with you.”
“banphrionsa” = princess, “mi vida” = my life, “que educada, princesa.” = how polite, princess. “meine liebe” = my love.
written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.
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