#he pulls it gently but it flies out of his hand and smacks him in the face for some reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demiesworld · 8 months

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thinking about men overstimulating themselves

☆ — contents: minors dni, nsfw, smut, overstimulation (both m and f), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talking, dumbification, just the usual filth

☆ — notes: reader is a female and uses she/her pronouns.

like you have both been going at it for hours already. you're in the bedroom he has your legs spread eagle, and your arms are anchored at your sides from him holding you down. his hips, god his strokes are so deep, and fast when they slap right against your skin. this man is abusing your pussy and is trying to make it go over it's limit. though it's not like he doesn't care he's just so fucked out, so drunk and so determined that he doesn't realize it. you look up at him, seeing his face flushed and jaw slack, his pretty eyes are barely even visible as there's nothing but white; he looks so hot. the upper rows of his teeth biting down on his bottom lip at the same time his hips are brutally snapping forward. the claps of his heavy balls accompanied by low grunts is an erotic vision that has your gummy walls tightening on his dick. then that tight knot that you've been chasing after for a while finally pops and your pussy is squirting all over his lower abdomen. spurts of your sweet juice wets his skin and makes a puddle on the bedsheets. "hmm! mm! fuuuck baby!" he grunts and groans out when you cum all over him. you're panting after you're easing down, and you're expecting for him to stop. he doesn't. instead he rocks his hips against yours slowly and he bites back a moan when your walls squeeze around him. "yeah,yeah,yeah,yeah, fuuuck," he lets go of your hands and cup your sweaty face in his hands. you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist and let him tenderly grind his dick into your core. you arch your back up from the bed with your toes curling behind his back. your hand flies to the back of his head as you pull him in for a heated kiss. he's whimpering onto your lips, "i'm sorry baby, i can't- ha- i can't- hng- fuc-fucking stop." "it's ok-okay! don't stop, please!" "don't stop? my baby says don't stop?" you're nodding your head and whimper when he slides his cock out of your pussy. he turns you over on your side, then gets in between your thighs, straddling your bottom leg with your top leg laying over on one of his thighs. he holds onto the base of his length and slathers his tip with your wet juices. you toss your head back, a sensual moan pushes past your lips. "put it in daddy- oooh!" he's sliding his dick back into you and angling his hips so he could give you short and quick strokes. you chant his name like a prayer, clutching tightly onto his right shoulder as he pounds into your pussy from above. your back arches from the bed while you release out a squeak. you look into his eyes just as you cum again from him hitting your sweet spot. he slows down and gently grinds his hips into you as you ride out your orgasm this time. his hand gripping onto the flesh of your thigh and stroking the skin. he breathed, "so gooood, hmm, can't get e-fucking-nough!" he lifts your leg up and lets it hang over his shoulder. "fuck, oh shit, shit, what the fuck." he whispers in a ragged tone. his head looks down at where you're connected and the ring of creamy white that's on his shaft, and your puffy clit has him holding his breath. "so hot, oh god baby," he startles you by roughly jackhammering. your bodily mixtures of cum created a wet smacking sound from him thrusting. he tosses his head back and gasps dramatically as he feels his body tensing up and quickens his thrusts if possible. he's blabbering, "fuck, fuck, shit, yes, yes, just l-like t-thAT!" with the final thrust he slams into you hard and leans his weight onto your body. your pussy feels like it's stretched to its limit when he lays above you and shoots his hot seed deep into your womb. he's letting out soft hisses, low grunts, and sweet whimpers as he gingerly fucks his cum into your seeping cunt. "ah, ah, fuck th-that... tha-that felt go-good... how did you feel babe-baby?" "good... but i feel so sore..." "hehe sorry baby."

(jjk) GOJO, CHOSO, geto, (kny) AIZETSU, karaku, haganezuka, DOUMA, akaza (tokyo rev) ran, rindou, KAZUTORA, HANMA, IZANA, baji, SANZU, any of your favs!

#gojo x reader #choso x reader #geto x reader #jjk smut #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #haganezuka x reader #kny smut #aot smut #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma x reader #kazutora x reader #izana x reader #rindou x reader #ran x reader #baji x reader #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #🍃 demies thinking about...

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sporadicthingcollection · 7 months

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Smash or Pass: Part 2/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Violence, description of injuries. Word Count: ~3.7k.

A/N: Someday I'll figure out the best way to make a tag list on here (if anyone has any experience with that hmu). Hope you enjoy this one~

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PART 2: In which you lend a helping hand, provide clown care, and tell a joke.

Swords clash. Punches fly. Bodies go flying. The band launches into a rousing up number. You admire their dedication until a chair flies past your head. You should get out of here.

You get to the door, but you stop. Where’s Buggy? He was just right there, but there is now occupied by a man with a big hat and a bear club.

More importantly, why do you care? Well, you know why you care. You just went over this. It’s because you’ve got a stupid little crush. You shouldn’t care but you’re so liquored up that you do. This was probably his plan all along—

A guy comes at you with a sword. You duck beneath him, punch him in the dick, and throw him out the door and into the street. No cheap shots in a bar fight.

And then you see it: a candy cane-striped patch deep in the throng. You skirt the edge of the brawl to get closer to it.

For a drunk guy with no hands, Buggy’s doing pretty well. Kicking, headbutting, body part separating. Cheap shots galore. You suppose it helps that he’s not fighting to win, but to get the hell out of here.

He’s almost at the edge when a mountain of a man hooks him around the neck with a wire of some kind. You expect him to separate his head, but his eyes go wide and he thrashes to no success, scrabbling at the wire.

Oh, that’s bad. Real bad. What do you do? C’mon, girl, think! There’s gotta be a way for you to lend a helping—

Hands! There they are! Smacking into everyone and everything as he tries to recall them. You grab one and then the other. You look around to return them but now there’s a whole scuffle between you and him. Three very large men all whaling on each other. There’s no way you’re getting through that.

“Hey!” you shout. He can’t hear you over the din. “Buggy!”

Still nothing. The pirate pulls tighter. He gasps and struggles.

Somewhere in your brain, you know this is the perfect moment to make a break for it. He’s occupied, won’t see you leave, and can’t follow you back to the ship.

But you can’t leave a man to die just to save your own skin. Especially when the brawl started because he was trying to defend you. C’mon, think of something!

…Oh. Duh.

You take a deep breath. You hold his hands over your head. "Hey, big nose!"

Buggy's head whips towards you as his eyes fly open, burning with white hot rage. It vanishes as he sees your trophies, replaced with awe.

It's a nice look on him.

One hand zips out of your grasp to jab his assailant in the eyes. The other grabs you by the collar.

You shriek as your feet leave the ground, lifting you up and over several dozen brawling sailors. It sets you down gently behind the bar, safe from the throng.

You’ve never flown before. You’re not a fan. But you are grateful, even if he did put you down so far from the exit. “Thanks,” you croak.

The hand shoots you a finger gun. You can practically hear the click of his tongue as the thumb flexes. How’d he hear you over the chaos?

Right next to your ear, a low voice says, “Don’t mention it.”

You scream and throw your elbow back, colliding with something hard. The low voice grunts as you jump away, and you turn to see Buggy clutching his nose.

You grimace. You know how pointy your elbows are. “That’s your own fault, sneaking up on a girl in the middle of a fight.”

He gives you an incredulous glare. “That’s not your line. You’re supposed to say…” He assumes a high-pitched voice. “‘Oh, thanks for the help, Captain Buggy! My hero!’”

You really hope you don’t sound like that. “Go soak your head. I saved you!”

He sneers at you, but he strokes his throat. An ugly ring of bruises will certainly be there later. “I had it under control.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m sorry, did you want to be dragged into an alley and used like a two-bit whore—“

A loud crack cuts him off. He blinks, looking more shocked than anything. His eyes roll back, his shoulders slump, and his head lolls forward. The rest of him follows and Captain Buggy, your hero, goes down like a sack of potatoes.

He hits the floor in a big puddle of assorted spirits, making a slap that you can only compare to when a pancake hits the ceiling. It would be funny if...

...actually, it's pretty funny as-is. You wish you were sober enough to commit the sound to memory.

Anyways, a chair in a bar fight really ought to be cheating. Then again, this is a pirate bar. The patrons are pirates. You are pirates. Everyone is pirates. It's pirates all the way down in here.

You catch the chair as it swings at you, and you see your assailant is, in fact, not a pirate. It’s the bar matron, scowling.

“You,” she grumbles. “This is your fault, you know that?”

“I didn’t ask him to help.” You yank the chair from her hands and toss it away. “And I didn’t ask to get felt up.”

Her eyes widen. “Is that what…?” She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Guess I can’t be too surprised about that. The boys have been spoiling to fight all night.” She looks down at Buggy. “Sorry ‘bout your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. You really hate that you don’t hate the sound of that. But that would eventually make you Mrs the Clown and that you cannot abide by.

You wrinkle your nose. “Not my boyfriend.”

She scoffs. “Man started a brawl for you. It’s only a matter of time.” She kneels down and hooks her arms under his shoulders. “There’s a room upstairs we can stash him in. Grab his legs.”

You do so. On three, you both heave up… and he separates in the middle. The bar matron gasps in horror.

In his maybe-concussed definitely-drunk stupor, Buggy giggles. It’s kind of cute. Not at all menacing the way it’s been before. High-pitched. A bit like a weathervane squeaking in the breeze.

“Pull yourself together, dickhead,” you say. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Devil Fruit,” you say to the matron. “I’ll be right behind.”

Carrying a pair of legs is far more difficult than you expected. You can’t pick them up bridal style. Dragging them by the ankles is no good, either. You resort to throwing them over your shoulders, one leg on either side of your neck with your hands on his shins. An inelegant solution, but the only one you’ve got.

You’re halfway up the stairs when you feel something twitch against your head. Something hard. Something stiff. Something that seems like it’s pretty thick, based on the weight against your ear.

Your cheeks burst into flames. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Buggy’s cock. Don’t think about how you were wrong about Buggy having a small cock.

The matron leads you to a small room right under the roof. A bed, a trunk, and a dry sink with a wash basin are the only furniture, but a marvelous view of the harbor from the window makes up for it. If it wasn’t dark, you could probably see the Merry from here.

She tosses her half of Buggy onto the bed. You follow suit. The mattress squeaks as they bounce and, with a pop, the twain meet and he’s a whole man again.

“Devil Fruits,” the matron mutters, shaking her head. She turns to you. “You can stay here ‘til he’s well enough to walk, but I want you gone by morning. Got it?”

You nod, only to grimace. “I, uh, don’t have much money. I don’t think he does, either.”

She waves her hand as she exits. “Just don’t come back and I won’t collect.”

You realize a problem. “Th-There’s only one bed.”

“One of you can sleep on the floor.”

The door closes. You are left alone with the muffled sounds of a brawl, the rhythmic breathing of a mostly unconscious clown, and your own turbulent thoughts.

Again, you are presented with an opportunity to leave. Can’t follow you if he’s out cold. Save your friends. Save your ship. Save yourself.

And again, you hesitate. He drank a lot with you. And you did laugh quite a bit. And dancing with him was like floating — the good kind, not the kind with disembodied hands. And he whacked some guys about to manhandle you. And then he pulled you out of the fight.

How was it he had described you? Back on the Merry, when he read you like a picture book? ‘Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around a third time, you just can’t help yourself.’

Boy howdy, do you hate how accurate that is.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t moved since he hit the bed. You pat his cheek. “You alright?”

He stirs slightly. “Mfmn.”

That’s not good. With a sigh, you put on your triage hat. Seeing as how he got bashed on the noggin, might as well start there. "Sit up.”

He mutters something incomprehensible, but doesn't fight you as you guide him into a sitting position against the headboard. It takes a moment to untie his bandanna.

You're expecting sensibly short hair. Or perhaps missed-a-few-trims-touching-his-earlobes medium-ish hair. Maybe even brushing his shoulders in what guys consider long.

But no. What you get is honest-to-god long hair, textured by salt water and adorned with little plaits, flowing out of the bandana and waterfalling down his back. In need of a good brushing, perhaps, but otherwise healthy.

You want to run your nails through it. Twirl a few strands around your finger. Pull a comb through it. Cut a lock to braid into a rope bracelet, the kind sailors give to their sweethearts to remember them by—

You give your head a good shake. Where did that come from? That’s weird. Don’t do that.

Gently, you part his hair to inspect the scalp. A few small cuts, but nothing worth wasting gauze on. A nasty lump, though. That'll for sure hurt in the morning.

Satisfied, you let his hair fall. His face is next, but this literal clown makeup makes it hard to tell what's blood and what's not. Rummaging around in your satchel, you pull out your rubbing alcohol and a gauze pad and dab away.

It doesn’t come off easy — this is definitely the good shit — but you get enough off. Barefaced Buggy isn’t much different than the regular one, just less obfuscated by whacky colors. High cheekbones. Strong, stubbly jaw. Cleft chin. He'd be handsome if it weren't for the nose… or maybe he is anyways? Some cultures like big noses. And you know what they say about guys with big noses—

Nope. No. Knock it off. Gonna behave yourself? Good. Back to work. Where were you again?

Nose. Right. Speaking of which, you're still not convinced it's not real. The intrusive thoughts win this time and you give it a pinch and a pull.

It's real. He gasps and snatches you by the wrist as his eyes pop open, wide and darting around. They’re the color of a calm river on a cloudy day, though the river is rough at the moment. Why does such a repulsive man have such pretty eyes?

"Easy, easy," you say. "I'm just checking you out— up."

If he heard the slip, he ignores it. After a moment, he drops your hand and lays back with a sigh. "W'happen?"

A few spots of blood stick to your fingers, coming from a small cut down the middle of his nose. You couldn't tell on account of the... well, everything about it. "Someone got you from behind with a chair." You go to dab at the cut. "Knocked you out cold. Smashed your face on the floor and gave you a bloody nose."

The rage returns. He snatches your wrist again. "What about my nose?" he growls, voice raw.

On one hand, you like that husky tone. On the other, this rubbing alcohol is stinging your fingers and you're not going to entertain his insecurities. "You landed right on it. A schnoz that big and it didn't do a damn thing to break your fall."

He does not like that. He squeezes tight enough to hurt and pulls you in closer. The river in his eyes whirls and churns. "You're talking a lot of shit for someone all alone in a room with Buggy the Clown."

Not a single word of excrement has left your mouth. "And you're talking too much shit for someone with a busted nose," you spit. "You want it to get infected? Scar up? It'll look even worse."

It's blunt, but you're right. And you know he knows you're right. He's a fool, but he's not foolish enough to not listen to a professional.

What you don't expect is the way his face drops for a moment. All of the anger, all of the bluster, all of it gone. All that remains is a boy with shocked eyes. Hurt eyes. Vulnerable eyes.

But only for a moment. The walls go back up and the angry man returns, albeit at a simmer and not a boil. He drops your wrist and scowls, avoiding your gaze.

Your stomach sinks. Being snippy is one thing, but you don't like being mean by accident. Even to a jerkoff like him.

With a gentle touch, you take his jaw. "This'll sting," you say as you press the pad to his nose.

He hisses, but doesn't pull away. "How bad is it?"

Now that the blood's gone, not bad at all. "Just a scratch. Won't even need a bandage."

He fixes his gaze somewhere past you. “Shame.”

And you continue to feel bad. It doesn’t look that bad on him. You were right earlier. It does suit him. You discard the pad. “Sorry ‘bout what I said,” you say. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

Buggy he continues to look past you. He waves his hand, only to flinch. He tries to hide it with a scoff.

Your soft eyes don’t miss. “Give it here.”

He huffs and grabs the injured hand with the other, yanking it off at the wrist. He plops it in your own hand and crosses his arms.

You almost laugh. But you hold it back.

You pull his glove off, revealing calloused fingers and shredded nails. When the seas get rough, he works the ropes with everyone else. And he's been at it awhile.

"You're a career sailor," you say. You're not sure why you're surprised.

“Only trade I know,” he says.

Fingerbones intact, if not a little bruised at the knuckles. "Piracy pay that well?”

He gives a bitter smile. “You’d be surprised what you make in tips.”

Maybe you’re just drunk or maybe that was actually kinda funny. Regardless, a laugh almost manages to escape this time. Almost. You catch it in time for it to turn into a weird snorting sound.

The bitterness evaporates like mist in the morning sun as he finally turns his gaze on you. His smile brightens his whole face, scrunching the rivers of his eyes into little oxbow lakes.

Yep. He’s handsome. That little crush burns in your chest.

You swallow some infatuation-flavored bile. "Take your shirt off," you say. "Wanna— Wanna check your ribs."

He regards you for a moment. Wordlessly, he pulls his scarf from his neck and tosses it to the floor. Next goes the sash-belt thing. Finally, he shrugs out of the vest.

You're not sure what you're expecting. A sea of scars, perhaps? The mottled, diseased skin of a syphilitic sailor? A gaping void where his heart ought to be?

No. What you get is an expanse of smooth skin, dipping and rising with mountains and valleys of lean muscles. Hair covers his pectorals, thickest on his sternum. A soft belly pushes against his waistband as he breathes — not a gut by any means, but a logical consequence of indulging one's every desire. A thin trail of fuzz leads down below his trousers, growing thicker as it dips below. The carpet matches the drapes, apparently...

Your cheeks heat up. Don't even think about it, girl. Just check him out and be on your way— up. Check him up.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" you ask. You trail your fingers down his ribs, gently poking and prodding.

"Not particularly." Pressing the side of his pec makes him hiss. “Alright, maybe there.”

You lift his arm — his hard, wiry arm — and lean in close. A bit of a bruise is blooming, but it doesn’t look too serious. What is serious is how distracting the smell of fresh sweat is.

His sweat. On his skin. Glistening. Like dew. Musky. Tangy. Tasty.

He says something and it doesn’t even register. The thoughts drown him out. Do it, they say. Stick your face in there.

A light poke to your cheek yanks you out of your… whatever the hell that was. You turn to see his hand hovering. Its fingers wiggle in a wave. “Hello? Anyone aboard?”

You shake your head hard enough that you can feel your brain bouncing around. “Sorry. Thinking about contusions.”

“Should I be worried or not?”

You press your thumb into the bruise. “Does it hurt to breathe?”

He squeaks like a mouse. “When you’re doing that, yeah!”

The sound of pain is a big turn-off for you, which is exactly what you need right now. You jam your finger against the bruise one more time just to hear him yelp. “You’re fine.”

You drop his arm. You try to move away as quickly as possible while still looking casual and not tripping over yourself. You fail and land on your ass. Not hard enough to hurt, but an uff escapes you all the same.

Buggy giggles, peering down at you. “I love a good pratfall.”

He looks good from this angle. Above you. That worries you. “You’re completely fine. Worst thing you’ll have in the morning is a lump and a hangover.”

His brow wrinkles. “Not gonna check out my legs?”

Oh, you’ve already spent plenty of time checking out his legs. Nice boots. Muscular thighs. Trying to figure out if the bulge in the crotch was fabric or something else.

You grab the edge of the bed and haul yourself up onto it. “Do they hurt?”

“Sister, all of me hurts.”

You sigh. “Bring your knees to your chest. First one, then the other.”

His left knee joint pops out from its rightful spot on his leg. He presses it to his chest, then repeats the action with the other. He looks at you expectantly. “Now what?”

A banged-up half-naked clown, sitting on a bed, holding his knees in his hands. The situation is amusing enough, but something in his expression, the tone of his voice… it breaks you.

You slide from the bed back onto the floor as loud, cackling peals burst forth like floodwaters through a dam.

It feels good to laugh so hard. It hurts your ribs, your stomach, and your cheeks, but it's a good hurt.

The fit subsides, leaving you flopped on your back, arm slung over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. A few giggles bubble forth, and you do your best to swallow them.

You fling your arm from your eyes to see Buggy gazing down at you, resting his head on his arm, eyes scrunched up. “Didn’t think that one would get you."

“Shut up.” You climb up to your knees. “And stop making me laugh.”

“But you’re so cute when you laugh.”

You snort. “You tried that one earlier.”

Buggy frowns. Deeply. He moves his head to his fist, leaving his gaze level with your own. “But I meant it.”

“You’re full of bird shit.”

You try to move away, but he grabs your arm and guides you back down. He stares right into your eyes, straight into your soul. “I meant it,” he says firmly.

For a moment, you believe him. Your voice of self-doubt is silenced. The voice of what an unladylike laugh. No man could ever find that attractive. How do you expect to get a husband sounding like that?

His voice disturbs your ruminating. "Y’know, if you join my crew," he says, "you can laugh like that all you want. As loud as you want. Whenever you want."

It's probably the alcohol. It's probably because he's half naked. It's probably because you're a weak woman. Whatever the reason may be, to your horror, you do consider it.

It could be a good time. You enjoy his company. You enjoy laughing. You enjoy adventures and making mischief and romance. Both the kind with the wind in your sails and the kind with a man in your arms.

Perhaps even this man.

But you can't. You know you can't. He’s cruel. He’s crazy. You couldn't live with yourself if you betrayed your friends. Not to mention that there'd be no escape if it all went wrong.

In your moment of weakness, he slips a finger under your chin. Millimeter by millimeter, he guides you closer. His eyes drift shut as his nose bumps yours.

Don’t do this, your good sense screams. You’re drunk. He’s drunk. Stop thinking with your snatch. Don’t—

The slightest bit of nerves quiver in his voice. “Something wrong…?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

You push forward and finally, finally, your lips meet his.

It’s nothing like your previous kisses, sudden and sloppy. This one is slow. Measured. Gently crackling like the soft flame of a low fire, radiating warmth.

A featherlight moan escapes him as you pull away. His eyes search your face, bracing himself, waiting for something, hoping in vain that he won't find it.

You lay a hand on his jaw, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “What is it?”

His gaze drifts to the side as he inhales sharply. “Waiting for the punchline.” He swallows. “No way something this good could happen to me.”

This poor, pathetic man after your own heart. “I got a punchline for you. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

Shining eyes peer at you. “I dunno. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

“She said...” You lean in close. “‘Kiss me again.’”

Those eyes go wide.

---

Part the 3rd goes up Thursday!

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown

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ohforficsakelibrary · 5 months

Text

Barbados

Summary: You've been carrying on with whatever this is for months, pushing and pulling, until one night Frankie wants control.

masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2K

Rating: Explicit 18+ for smut/ Unprotected piv, edging, multiple orgasms (f), creampie, a hint of dom!Frankie, a dash of brat-tamer!Frankie, still a Consent King, a pinch of blasphemy, y'all are gonna get a noise complaint / Minors DNI

A/N: As with Dominica, this is written about these two idiots, but flipped to the reader's perspective. Can be read as a standalone, only a few tiny, non-critical nods to the series.

Happy Frankie Friday to all those who celebrate.

Eight months into whatever this is, Frankie pulls noises from your throat that you’ve never made in your life.

And to think, you had fought him on it.

You’d been working each other up all evening, spiking heated glances over the dinner table as you listened to Pope go on about something.

Can’t remember what.

You’d both unceremoniously deposited Santi in his room next door, each smacking your key cards against the reader so quickly that it took three tries to unlock as Frankie groaned into your mouth and you pawed at his belt. This room was one of yours.

Can’t remember whose.

It doesn’t matter, one key eventually worked.

In your haste to have each other after a month apart you’d skipped his mouth, and his fingers, and everything you would have demanded if you’d had more sense.

Sense. The thing he simultaneously robs you of and delivers in spades to every starving nerve ending.

The two of you hadn’t even made it to the bed.

Frankie’s behind you on the couch, your upper body draped over the armrest as he works his way inside you.

“Mmfh, hold on, wait, wait, wait,” your hand finds his where it’s wrapped around your hip and immediately he stills as you hiss through clenched teeth.

“Shit. Baby, talk to me.”

“Just. A little sharp.”

“No, I should have…” he makes a move to pull out completely.

Your hand flies back to his hip, “Francisco Morales, don’t you dare.”

“Baby, just let me taste you,” he barely has the tip of his cock inside you now as he cranes to drop kisses along your spine, “get you all warm and ready for me. ”

“I’m fucking ready for you now.”

Stubborn as a moose is not the saying, but Frankie reckons it should be.

“Baby, please, I’m not doing this if it hurts.”

He’s mad at himself, more than anything. Frankie doesn’t fuck around with this. He knows what he is.

He’s normally so methodical. He has his procedures. His checklist. You blew right through it and in his haze of want—he let you.

You’re doing it even now as your nails bite into his hip when he makes a move to pull away.

“Baby…” he urges again.

“No.”

Talons of irritation tug at the back of his scalp.

And he gives in to them.

“You know what, fine,” he growls, hands leaving you completely as something shifts, “you do it then.”

You move to bring one of his warm palms back to your skin but he snatches it away.

“No. That’s all you. You wanna take me? Take me. Go ahead.”

Oh.

A Frankie Mood.

He hasn’t had you in a month and already they’ve returned with a vengeance.

You throw him a look over your shoulder, half expecting to see his arms crossed over his chest. One hand’s braced on the back of the sofa, and you can feel the heat from the other where it hovers over your hip.

His bottom lip is trapped between teeth.

Okay, Frankie.

You prop yourself up off the arm of the sofa with one hand, reaching down with the other to guide the tip of his cock against your entrance, gently shifting your hips and rocking back onto his hard length at your own pace, moaning as you do.

A pace you’ve slowed way down for his torture benefit.

It smarts a little less and you take a little more.

But this stopped being about that a few inches ago.

You can hear Frankie sucking sharp breaths in through his nose. The back of the sofa creaks with the white-knuckled pressure he’s subjecting it to.

While his words are bold, his body’s barely held together.

But he’s composed enough not to give you the satisfaction of the moan that’s bursting at the back of his throat.

“God, Frankie,” you breathe when the curve of your ass meets his stomach.

He barks a dark laugh.

“Oh, I thought you could take this whole thing,” he leans to cover you with his body, nose skimming the shell of your ear.

“I’ve still got two more inches here for you, babe,” he continues to taunt just before he bites down on your earlobe, soothing it with his tongue.

“What are you gonna do about that?”

You have half a mind to flip him off of this couch and onto the floor.

Instead you drop your chest back down to the arm of the sofa, tip your hips forward, and squeeze around him.

It makes him give you the last two himself.

It hadn��t taken long for you to discover how to short his brain and send his hips slamming into yours in search of more.

“Ohh, you little…” he’s growling but you can feel the smile against your ear.

He loves this.

The push and pull.

You guide his hand to your clit, where he immediately starts rubbing slow circles with his middle and ring fingers.

He’s gonna drag this out.

You tip your face to meet his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip before he gives you his tongue.

“You okay?” He whispers softly when you break for air.

“Yeah, baby.”

Frankie drops a kiss in your hair before he bucks his hips against you without pulling out.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“Mmmm,” he rumbles, sitting up and holding your hips with both hands. He gives you a few tentative strokes, slowly, palms mapping the contours of your back until you take it upon yourself to push against him.

“You’re so fuckin’ impatient, aren’t you,” his hips don’t falter from their lazy pace as one hand grabs the back of your neck. “So fucking greedy for me. For this cock.”

You clench down around him to make your point, smiling when he groans, his hips stuttering.

“You know what?” He brings his face to your ear, “let me have it, baby.”

Control.

Let him have control.

He can’t see the way you arch an eyebrow in challenge, but he knows it’s there on your face.

“Fine,” you whisper and cant your hips back against him.

“Need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ gatita.”

“Yes. Frankie.” It’s sour in your mouth as you say it. But you trust him. Trust that he’ll take care of you. That he’ll work you up and over and through until “yes Frankie” is all that you can scream.

You trust that he’ll take you past the point of words.

And so “yes Frankie” it is.

He rewards you by picking his pace up to something you luxuriate in, humming with approval as warmth builds low in your belly. You instinctively reach down between your legs and Frankie immediately pulls your hand away.

“That’s mine,” he growls, “and I’m not ready for it yet.”

You bury your face into the armrest and moan in petulant protest.

The hand on the back of your neck soothes, rubbing down over your shoulder blades. He follows the motion with his mouth and you arch up into him.

You can feel his eyes on you, reading your body in the absence of your face. He slows his pace when your breath goes shallow and waits for it to deepen again before building you back up.

When your fingers dig into the armrest, he nearly stops, holding you in place by the hips, grinding his pelvis against you. He leans forward to drop kisses at the base of your neck and scrapes the scruff on his chin down your spine, the prickle of it giving you another sensation to latch on to. After a few moments, he skates a massive palm over your skin to wipe the feeling away, hooking it over your shoulder and yanking you backwards faster against him.

The next time he pulls you back from the brink it’s with a hand in your hair and teeth in the curve of your shoulder.

He unwinds you like rope, pulling at each cord, twisting until it frays, until all that’s left is you pleading and panting in front of him.

By the fourth time you’re telling him to go fuck himself, and he’s purring in your ear that no you feel much better between thrusts that drag the crown of his cock over every spot inside you with the capacity to light you up, he’s just doing it too slowly to cause a spark.

“Frankie, I swear to God…”

“You can swear all you want, gatita, God isn’t here. Just me.”

And oh but He is, in the searing palms that hold you firm, the thick, clever fingers that finally slip down to where he fills you to rub tight circles against where he knows you need him most.

In the way your ears ring when he speeds his hips and his hands up—and finally allows you to break.

A gasp, a captured breath, and a cry when you exhale again.

Except now, he doesn’t stop.

“Frankie, fuck, Frankie, Frankie, Fr…Fran…FranKIE,” discretion abandoned in favor of open-mouthed pleasure. His pace is brutal and you don’t care who knows that he handles you with a pilot’s precision, one hand encouraging the arch in your back, pulling where it’s wound in your hair, fingers of the other working faster over your clit.

You’re keening as you claw at fabric and bury your face in the armrest, Frankie never letting up as your walls clamp down around him again.

He grits his teeth through your torture, grunting as he continues.

He continues until you’re laughing deliriously.

Until you’re growling.

Whining.

Sobbing.

Jesus, Catfish. Don’t kill her. Frankie’s phone buzzes with a text from Santiago.

Neither of you notice.

You’ve angled your hips to take all of him, hair in your face, death-grip on the armrest because it’s the only thing keeping you here.

He cracks you one last time, has you crying and moaning and screaming for him in the seconds before he holds you fast, deafening you with the guttural scream that rips from his chest as he pumps you full of him, stuttering hips fucking hot spend into you as desperate cries escape his throat.

His teeth sink into your shoulder and his weight becomes yours to bear when he finally quiets and collapses, sucking open-mouthed kisses into your sweat-damp neck between gasps for air.

You stay a moment like this.

Feeling his lungs fill at your back.

Feeling his heart hammer against your spine.

He finds himself enough to take his weight, but your hand grips his hair before he can move much further.

“The couch,” you pant a warning and he catches your logic in his hormone-addled brain, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you with him down to the hardwood floor.

His body breaks your fall.

Broad palms roam your stomach, up over your breasts and down again, hot, ragged breath rasping over the shell of your ear and catching in your curls.

He guides your hips up enough to allow him to pull out with a groan before he encourages you over, one hand immediately flying to the base of your skull to bring your mouth to his.

You can feel the warm rush of him between your thighs.

“Was that okay?” He sighs against your lips.

“More than, baby.”

“I missed you.”

And you hum with a smile, raking damp hair out of his face.

You missed him too.

Both of your phones clatter repeatedly against coffee table glass and it finally spurs Frankie to his feet.

You both still alive?

You need electrolytes?

Fish, rub some sugar on her gums.

You read the group texts aloud from your back on the floor and Frankie laughs, returning with a warm washcloth and your underwear.

All good, Santi. So good.

Frankie sits on the couch and kisses your stomach as you stand and shimmy your panties up your legs. He pulls you to curl against him where he can still trail his nose over your sweat-slick neck.

How do I know Fish didn’t take your phone? Proof of life.

It’s tossed offhandedly with a smile. He doesn’t expect his screen to light up with a photo from Fish.

The look on your face in the photo is apologetic, one hand raking the hair out of your eyes, the other holding your phone with the screen lit to display the date and time. Frankie is behind you with his nose pressed into your hair and a Cheshire cat grin playing on his lips.

God, on the COUCH?

Sorry, not sorry, Pope. Is his answer.

Santi offers only the eye-roll emoji in response.

_____

Fifteen minutes later, when you’re both showered and in bed, Frankie’s head resting on your stomach and your hand gently raking through his freshly washed hair, your phone fills the room with blue light.

From Santiago to you alone.

You’re better for him than you know.

The truth is, he hasn’t seen the man smile like that since his daughter was born.

I can’t save him, Pope.

No. But you can make him feel.

And you understand exactly what he means because someone once did the same for you.

You stretch and Fish moves, rolling you onto your side where he can fit against your back, solid arm locked around your waist, breath brushing peacefully against your neck.

Yeah.

You can make him feel.

And sometimes that’s enough.

#frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Text

The Arcana HCs: M6 administering first aid when it's their fault MC is slightly hurt

~ this idea has been sitting in my drafts for forever and I got an ask or two for something similar, enjoy the fluff! - brainrot ~

Part 2 is here:

- to set the scene -

It was evening time, and the two of you were in your shared space getting ready to decompress after a long week of work. You had just finished your bath and were drying your hair, but you couldn't find your comb. You glance across the room to where your beloved is and notice that it's right next to them.

"Darling, could you toss me my hair comb?"

They smile, pick it up, and toss it gently in your direction. Except that it flies faster than they expect it to. And they put a little more push and spin into it than they meant to. And when the comb smacks you in the face, one of the prongs manages to nick your eyebrow. You only feel a slight sting, but it's when your fingers come away from your face with a slight smear of blood that you notice the horror on your beloved's face. Oh dear.

Julian

Torn between the deep despair of what he's just done and his doctor's instinct to FIX IT, FIX IT NOW

Scrambling to find something to disinfect it with and clean it up, berating himself the whole time and concocting a thousand harebrained schemes to earn your forgiveness

During his search the memory of your little scratch is multiplying tenfold, what if you need stitches, what if you're permanently scarred across the face -

- until he sits you down and passes the clean rag across your face and oh, it's already stopped bleeding. It doesn't even need a bandage

The sheer relief has him cackling hysterically with tiny tears in his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder and asking for your forgiveness between sobs of laughter

It's also the stress of a long week getting to him, once five minutes have passed and he's still shaking you go pour a glass of something strong for the two of you to share and take your mind off of things

Asra

Both hands clasped over their mouth, eyes wide with horror

You can see tears threatening to pool in his eyes, he hurt you, how could he hurt you

As soon as you make a move towards them they are dashing to your side and brushing a shaky hand across your face to get a better look at it

Using healing magic as soon as you give him permission and then double and triple checking that there's no mark leftover

You're able to pull them out of their little spiral by asking them to kiss it better

That makes him laugh, and then he's pulling you closer and covering your face with smiling kisses

Will apologize for hurting you, and then for not giving you more credit to handle it

They'll stop feeling bad about it if you get the elephant out if the room by teasing him about it

"Yeah, you say you like my face, and then you go slicing it up with a hair comb, call me crazy but I'm getting mixed signals here..."

Hides his face in shame with the prettiest blush each time, "I said I was sorry, MC!"

Nadia

Utterly horrified. How could she. You asked her to do the simplest thing and she injured you instead

Completely at a loss on how to respond. She doesn't know first aid, she thinks one is supposed to elevate the injured area, but it's on your face and you're already standing up

It's on your face. She's officially responsible for scarring the greatest living work of art in the world, she'll never forgive herself

Her facial expression is the kind you'd expect to see on the kid who broke the cookie jar, not the Countess of Vesuvia

You're making your way across the room, holding in a giggle at the unusual look on her face, trying to tell her that you're fine without laughing

She's not convinced until you take a damp handkerchief and dab away the little drop of blood, showing a barely visible scratch underneath

"... oh." *recomposes herself* "well I suppose you didn't defeat the Devil for nothing."

You can see the little smile playing at the corners of her mouth and you know exactly how to make it blossom

"You have quite the arm, my lady."

Muriel

Be kind to him, he has trauma and from his perspective the sight of blood is all he needs to think that his worst fear is coming true

The first thing you do is use the edge of your towel to wipe off your face so there's only the scratch left

Then you're pulling him by the hand to sit down while Inanna climbs in his lap to ground him

Right about now he's realizing that technically someone could say he's overreacting so now he's flushing red and embarrassed and thinking about ways to hide

Obviously you're not going to let him hide or belittle himself, a trigger is a trigger regardless of how small it may seem to an outsider

Once he's taken a few deep breaths he'll steel himself to look at you before you even plan to work towards that and assess the damage

Oh, it really is just a scratch. There's not even any blood visible anymore

You're not going to tease him about it but Inanna will

Portia

She's laughing before you can even process what just happened

Her preferred method of sisterly comfort is a fist to the gut, mostly she's impressed at the fact that she could throw a comb that dangerously

She's also got her handkerchief in hand, pressing it to your forehead while you both giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation

She'll put a little bandaid on it too

The rest of the evening will be "injured warrior" themed

"Oh no, my dear MC, you have returned from war with a most horrible disfigurement! Whatever shall I do!"

She's doing this with her version of a posh Vesuvian accent, which layers hilariously over her natural Nevivon pronunciation

She'll comb your hair for you as her version of an apology

Can and will threaten you, Pepi, and Ilya with the hair comb in the future

"You leave me no choice. You laugh now, but if you do not help me wash the dishes I will remind you what these prongs are truly capable of!"

Lucio

"Oopsie."

The irony hits you that for once this is the completely appropriate response for him to make to his mistake

He can tell almost immediately that you're fine, he knows what major head wounds can look like and this ain't that

Grabbing a discarded shirt and tiptoeing across the room to you Captain Jack Sparrow style, he's dabbing the blood away gingerly and squinting at the scratch leftover like it's offended him

"We should get rid of that comb. It's weirdly shaped so it can't be aimed."

He's honestly not that bothered. He knows you're made of tough stuff, he knows you both got worse scratches than this earlier walking through a thorny patch of underbrush

If you decide to give him grief for it he'll suggest you throw the comb back at him, just so you're even

If you do and he doesn't duck and it does successfully scratch him too he'll be very proud of your matching battle wounds

"You aren't actually mad at me though, right?"

#the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #muriel of the kokhuri #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #portia the arcana #muriel the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #the arcana fluff #ask arcana brainrot

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

Character of your choosing with a reader who's very protective and caring (even if it's small things like putting a hand over the corner of the counter when they bend down so they don't bump their head, or choosing the side of the bed closest to the door to protect them) and as such they fall into a more submissive role defacto. I just want them to feel safe and loved, especially those who are constantly vigilant or insecure

come celebrate 5.7k with me!

reid reid reid!!!

"Spencer," You call out, rushing to where he's kneeling beneath his desk in search of something he'd dropped. Your hand flies right to the hard, wooden edge of the desk just before he can smack his head against it, his eyes wide as he collides with your hand.

"Sorry," He chuckles sheepishly, "I didn't mean to hit your hand."

"That's why I put it there," You roll your eyes fondly, "So that you wouldn't hit your head on the desk."

Spencer stays silent, but you know the look in his eyes: adoration. It most often shines through when you let him continue talking after someone cuts him off, or when you ask him to read a french book to you because you say it sounds pretty when he speaks. This time, though, it's just because you cared for him, you made sure he wouldn't hit his head because you know he's clumsy.

He comes out from under the desk, his lengthy limbs straightening out to put him at an impressive 6'1. You've always teased him about being a beanpole, and you don't realize it, but he notices every time you stock the tallest shelves with his items, giving him the height priority.

"Thank you." He finally speaks up, his voice soft and gentle, his doe eyes twinkling, "I love you, Y/N."

He pulls you into a hug, a rare moment of PDA shared between the two of you, even more uncharacteristic because you're at work. This leaves you stiff at first, but you quickly melt into your lover's warm embrace, nuzzling your face into his jacket.

He mumbles into your hair, his words spoken gently against the crown of your head as he buries his face there, "I love the way you love me."

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mynameismckenziemae · 3 months

Text

She's a Fire-Chapter XXVII

Forever

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Chapter summary: Bradley surprises you…in more ways than one.

(previous chapter here, epilogue here)

Warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, ass play, oral (m receiving), p in v,

The second half of the summer flies by, especially with the squad is deployed halfway through August. The plan was they were supposed to be back the week before Sunny and Bob’s wedding.

It was now the Thursday before and still no word from any of them. They hadn’t been allowed their phones at all so the last 4 weeks had been awful not being able to communicate in any way with Bradley.

Thankfully Bob had been granted leave and arrived a few days ago, but over half the wedding party wasn’t in Minnesota yet.

You’d flown in with Sunny a few days prior to help, but with everything done that could be, Sunny insisted you pick up your parents from the airport.

You people watch as you wait, smiling at the sweet reunions in front of you. Unexpected tears spring to your eyes as you watch an older gentleman hand his wife a bouquet of flowers and draw her into a hug. You giggle as he reaches down to cop a feel of her butt while he presses a kiss to her lips. She pulls away and smacks his chest with a blush, but smiles.

You have a feeling that’ll be you and Bradley in 40 years.

Absence had done nothing make your heart grow fonder and you realized how head over heels you really were. Not only did you want him to be there for the wedding, you miss him. You miss the way he makes you laugh, how he draws you to him in the middle of the night, the songs he sings so sweetly to Lola, and definitely the sex, but also the intimacy.

Your phone pings, a text from your mom.

Mom: We just landed. They changed the gate so we’re coming in H7 now.

Rowan: Sounds good, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.

Laura: Can’t wait!

Rowan: Me either 😘

You smile and make your way over.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You wave as they come down the escalator, and are wrapped up in both of their arms a minute later.

“I’ve missed you guys so much!” You murmur, giving them both another squeeze before pulling away. You saw them for an extended weekend in April but that was it since Christmas.

“Missed you too hun,” your mom sniffs, voice full of tears.

“We brought someone else you’re probably missing,” your dad smiles, gently tugging your ponytail like he did when you were a kid.

Your heart stutters in your chest when you turn to see Bradley smiling.

Your own tears begin to fall as he wraps you in his arms. “When did-how did…what?” You ask, face pressed against his chest.

“We got in last night, Sunny wanted to surprise you. Flying in with your parents was just a coincidence. Caught up with them in Denver.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. When’s everyone else coming?”

“Right now,” Nat says from behind you, pulling you into a hug next. “Your dad’s hot, Row,” she whispers before releasing you.

You shake your head, laughing at her and hug Jake next, followed by the rest of the crew.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sunny: So were you surprised?

Rowan: Yes. You’re lucky you’re getting married or I’d be mad at you. I was freaking out.

Sunny: Lolol sorry

Rowan: No you’re not. Was Bob in on this?

Sunny: I’m totally not. He was…but only because I made him.

Rowan: Naughty girl. I should tell him to spank you for it.

Sunny: Please do?

You laugh. She thought it would be a good idea to refrain from having sex for a month so their wedding night would be “special”. Bob wasn’t keen on the idea but agreed. Sunny was fine while he was deployed but has been a hot mess since he arrived a few days ago. Even more so that Bob wasn’t giving in to her.

“All set?” Bradley asks as he gets in the driver’s seat of your rental from putting his bag in the back. Your parents and everyone else were sorting out the rental cars and meeting Sunny, Bob, and their families in 45 minutes at a restaurant nearby.

You don’t say anything, instead, leaning over the console to capture his lips. It quickly turns heated as you lick into his mouth.

“Fuck, there’s probably cameras everywhere,” he pants, pulling off your lips as your hand creeps up his thigh.

“You’re probably right,” you agree. “We better go.”

He’s barely out of the parking lot before you’re palming him. “What are you—oh,” he inhales sharply as you pull his cock from his jeans.

“There’s no cameras on the road though,” you murmur against his neck as you stroke him.

Okay, there probably is but thankfully it’s dark enough now that passersby’s and cameras won’t be able to see anything.

“You don’t have to—fuckkk,” he grunts, head thumping back against the headrest as you pull him into your mouth, flicking his frenulum with your tongue. His hand reaches to grip your ponytail, guiding your head up and down. You moan and his grip tightens at the vibration he feels in his balls.

“You’re…you feel so good, baby. I-ha! I’m not gonna last,” he breathes. “Where do you want me to…?”

“Mmm,” you hum, tightening your lips and swallowing around him.

“Yeah…yeah okay, just like tha—ohhh,” he groans as he cums in your mouth. You swallow it greedily and tuck him back into his pants just as you arrive at the restaurant.

“Fuck, Row,” he chuckles breathlessly as he shifts into park. “C’mere.”

He leans over for another kiss, shivering when he tastes himself on your tongue.

A knock on the window startles you apart. “Come on lovebirds, everyone’s here,” Natasha says, laughing as she and Jake pass.

“I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and return the favor, over and over again. I’m gonna pretend I’m looking at something under the hood until this goes down,” he murmurs, looking pointedly at his groin. He’s hard again. “Don’t really wanna walk in with a hard-on.”

You laugh and peck his lips before going inside.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

He keeps true to his word once back at the hotel.

First, he throws your legs over his shoulders and devours you against the door. Then again in the shower with the detachable shower head; your legs nearly give out when he kneels behind you and tongues your other hole at the same time. He finally gives in to your pleading and pushes into you after you fall into bed, loving you slow but steady.

“I love you…” he pants against your lips as he thrusts his hips faster, finally chasing his own release, “…so much.”

He grinds his hips against yours as pumps you full and kisses you, swallowing your cries as he triggers another orgasm.

You feel boneless as Bradley cleans you up and climbs in behind you, holding you so tightly against him, like he’s afraid you’ll drift away if he doesn’t. Soon you both drift off to sleep.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The next day passes quickly with decorating, massages, and a nail appointment followed by the rehearsal and dinner after. It’s after 1 AM when Bradley nudges you awake from the car to bring you to bed.

Your alarm startles you awake a few hours later. You press a kiss to his forehead before getting in the shower.

You feel his presence from behind as you rinse the shampoo from your hair.

He gathers your clean hair and pulls it to the side so he can kiss your neck.

10 minutes later your front is pressed gassing the glass door of the shower as Bradley fucks into you with deep, steady strokes.He brings your hand to hold the shower head he directed on your clit and brings his fingers back to brush over your other hole.

“I want to take you here soon,” he pants, pressing a wet finger in. “Can I? I’ll make it so good for you, baby.”

“Yessss,” you mewl, “I’ve been using the bigger plug when I play to get ready for you.”

His hips stutter as he chokes, “Good-good girl.”

You cry out as your orgasm rushes over into you at his praise. He works you through it, pulling out when your body relaxes, giving himself a few pulls to finish on your ass.

“I wanted to finish inside you, but I figured it wouldn’t go well with your silky dress,” he pants, forehead resting on your shoulder.

“You’re probably right. Never thought of that,” you laugh breathlessly. “Thank you.”

He hums and kisses your shoulder before pumping conditioner into his hand and coating the ends of your hair the way you like.

“You’re so good to me,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes as he bends to wash your feet a few minutes later.

He smiles, pecking a kiss on your knee and rising to help you rinse. “You’re so good to me. Love you, Row.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Don’t you look all freshly fucked and glowy,” Sunny rolls her eyes sullenly when you walk into the venue.

You laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah yeah,” she sighs, trying not to smile as you hand her the coffee you and Natasha had picked up.

“Happy wedding day!” You smile, wrapping her in a big hug. “I’m sure Bob will make it up to you tonight,” you whisper since his sister isn’t too far away.

“He better,” she sighs, taking a drink. “Thank you. Holy shit, I’m getting married today.”

“Yep. You are. Let’s get you ready.”

Tears of laughter and tears of happiness are shed throughout the morning while getting ready. Even more flow as she steps out of the dressing room after her mom. She looks stunning in her form-fitting, dropped-sleeved ivory gown. Her hair is pinned into a loose updo with her natural curly texture.

Several photos are taken with the bridesmaids and then you’re free to relax before the ceremony begins. Your phone buzzes as you wait for the ceremony to begin and Sunny gets some individual ones taken.

Bradley: Can’t wait to see you. I already know you look gorgeous. 😍

Rowan: Right back ‘atcha handsome. See you soon. 😘

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle. Just keep your eyes on Bobby, okay? Love you so much,” you whisper as you hug Sunny behind the doors of the ceremony hall.

“Love you more. Thank you for everything.” She murmurs back, giving you a big squeeze before releasing you.

Then it’s your cue.

You have to swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as you lock eyes with Bradley, who’s blinking rapidly to keep his own tears from falling as you walk towards the front. You meet Bob’s nervous gaze as you walk past him, giving him a wink. He winks back and visibly relaxes.

Bob’s nieces and Steve are next and break the nervous energy as Steve keeps chasing the petals they drop. He nearly knocks the girls over as he spots Bob and runs to lie down next to him.

The doors open next and Sunny’s mom rises, which signals everyone to do the same.

Sunny is glowing and there’s not a dry eye in the place as Sunny walks to Bob with her dad.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“I now pronounce to you, Mr. And Mrs. Floyd! You may kiss your bride.”

You kindly wave their sweet pastor out of the shot as Bob does just that.

It was a short but beautiful ceremony; they chose to do the traditional vows as they wrote their own and gifted them to each other beforehand.

“I was right, you look gorgeous Row,” Bradley whispers as he escorts you out.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur as you pose for pictures, drink cocktails, eat dinner, and cry your way through your speech. You feel like you can finally breathe once the dance begins.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bradley’s heart is pounding under your ear as you sway with him to a slow song. “You okay? Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah, just warm. I think I’m gonna get some air,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the song ends.

“I’ll come with-,” you start, but are interrupted by the DJ playing Beyoncé’s Single Ladies.

“Next up is the bouquet toss. If you don’t have a ring on it, head to the dance floor.”

“Come on, Row! That’s you.” Sunny says, pulling you back out.

“Alright, alright!” You laugh, letting her place you front and center.

“Let’s help Mrs. Floyd count down. 3, 2, 1!”

Sunny fakes a throw and then turns, nodding to the DJ then locking eyes with you as she walks over.

Realization sets in as you hear Elvis start to sing ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.

Sunny has tears in her eyes as she smiles, handing you the bouquet. “Turn around.”

You feel light-headed as she turns your shoulders and steps around to join Bob and the small group of your friends and family behind Bradley, who’s down on one knee holding a beautiful, familiar-looking ring.

Tears immediately begin to spill over.

“Rowan, I-“ he hesitates, so nervous trying to find the right words. “Will you marry-“

A deafening cheer goes up as you nod, sobbing, “Yes!” as he wraps you in a hug.

You can’t seem to stop crying as you’re bombarded with well wishes and congratulations.

Sunny pulls you aside as your dad draws Bradley in for a hug, saying something that has Bradley wiping a tear as he pulls back.

“Why don’t you and Bradley go take a breather?” Sunny murmurs as she takes you aside.

“Yeah? Okay. Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? It’s your special day…”

“It was my idea! Well, kind of. Bradley was going to take you somewhere and propose over his birthday but the deployment threw a wrench in his plans. I told him he should do it tonight since your parents were gonna be here too.”

A fresh wave of tears flow as you hug her again.

“You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go!” She grins, smacking you on the ass.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You pull Bradley to a storage closet a few doors down.

“There was so much I wanted to say to you, and I hope you’re okay with me proposing here, Sunny and Bob were excited about it, I just-“ Bradley rambles, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“Baby, it was perfect. You’re perfect,” You sigh kissing him again.

“So everyone knew?” You ask when you finally pull away.

“Yeah pretty much. I can’t believe no one spoiled it. I’d asked your dad for permission at Christmas and-“

“Wait. At Christmas? That was like 3 months after we started dating?” You interrupt.

“Yeah,” he smiles, wiping another one of your stray tears. “I already knew then that you were the one.”

He brings you to his chest as you hiccup and sways you both to the muted music coming through the door. He rubs his finger over the ring. “Do you like it? It’s my mom’s. I had it dipped in white gold since I’ve never seen you wear yellow gold.”

Your chest tightens. “Oh my God, Bradley. That’s why it looks so familiar. It’s beautiful. I would have worn it happily either way!”

“I know, but Mom would’ve wanted you to have something you like though.”

“Well I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replies, kissing the top of your head.

The end(ish).

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: Don’t freak out! There’s still an epilogue coming!

Also…my inbox is open and I’ve only gotten one ask so far so if there’s anything you want me to address in the epilogues get them in now.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun smut #bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin

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beansprean · 1 year

Text

My Exchangeapalooza gift for @memosminifridge !! See it HERE on A03 and check out all the other fabulous entries HERE!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID page 1: 1. Wide shot of a park at night, bunches of trees in the background with a asphalt path winding up towards the viewer, last a bronze statue of a man with a dog. A few streetlights light up the area and Nandor and Guillermo appear to be alone as they walk down the path toward the viewer, save for a lone gray squirrel climbing down the trunk of a nearby tree. Nandor, flaring his cape out dramatically as he walks, turns toward Guillermo and complains 'What is the point of walking around with no destination?' Guillermo, walking beside him with his hands in his jacket pockets and looking like he's explained this multiple times already, replies, 'It's good for you to be outside and get some fresh air, Master.' Nandor scoffs and says 'This fresh air smells like doggie doo-doo.' 2. Close up on Nandor as he notices something to his left, raising his eyebrows and letting out a surprised 'Oh!' Guillermo stands on his opposite side and looks over curiously. 3. Close up on a nearby tree trunk, which a gray squirrel is curiously peering around the side of. Offscreen, Nandor coos, 'Look, Guillermo! A squirrel!' 4. Reverse shot. Nandor squats down in the foreground with a cheerful grin and soft eyes, gently reaching out a hand while saying 'Hello, little friend!' Behind him, Guillermo stops walking and watches with a fond smile. 5. Close up on Guillermo as he pulls out his phone, which has a photo of Armand on the case, and points it toward Nandor. He smiles, blushing slightly, and thinks 'Cute...' to himself. Offscreen, Nandor continues talking to the squirrel: 'I'm sorry I do not have any nuts for you.' 6. Close up on Nandor's beckoning hand, the squirrel creeping cautiously closer. Nandor squeals, 'Guillermo, look!! He likes me!' 7. Wide shot of the scene with Guillermo in the foreground, starting a video on his phone with a smile. Nandor is still squatted down with his hand held out flat, making kissy noises at the squirrel, which is almost close enough to touch. 8. Repeat. Nandor flinches back as the squirrel suddenly transforms into a pale black-haired vampire with pointed ears, wearing a gray cloak. The vampire leaps out, claws raised, one hand wielding a stake as he cries 'Nandor the Relentless!' In the foreground, the scene is repeated on Guillermo's phone as he looks up in shock, mouth dropping open. /End page 1

ID page 2: 1. Shot from behind Nandor's head as he raises a hand to protect himself. The other vampire raises his stake with a manic grin and cries 'At last I found you! Prepare to-' 2. Repeat. The vampire it cut off as a cell phone with an Armand case suddenly flies in and smacks him in the cheek, whipping his head to the side. 3. Reverse shot. The assaulting vampire is in extreme closeup in the foreground, holding a clawed hand to his cheek and snarling, 'Oww... What the?! Control your familiar!' He glares past Nandor at Guillermo, who is cast in dramatic shadow but for the round shine of his glasses. He has his right hand posed downward from his expert throw and his left hand unzipping his coat. The background behind him is dark and emitting a scary red aura. Nandor, the top of his head small in the frame between them, looks back at Guillermo nervously, though it's not clear who he's worried for. 4. Close up on Guillermo's eyes, cut in shadow but for a streak of light horizontal across his eyes. One frame of his glasses is opaque and glinting dangerously, reflecting something red. His visible eye is squinting in a controlled glare. He snaps, 'Not a familiar.' 5. Jacket now flaring open and a stake clenched in his right hand, Guillermo takes a step and leaps forward, vaulting easily over Nandor, who falls backward in an effort to look up at him. The background is bright red and streaked with white action lines to match Guillermo's movement. 6. Guillermo lands with both feet planted on the enemy vampire's chest, knocking him backward and raising his stake to strike. 7. Guillermo gives the vampire no time to react, slamming the stake down into his heart as soon as he hits the ground. Guillermo holds how down by the throat with his free hand, one foot planted on his shoulder and the other knee holding down his arm, which has already dropped the stake he brought. The vampire screams, head wrenched back to face the viewer as a grisly spray of blood erupts from his chest. It's over in seconds. His cries die out with a muttered 'Curse...you...' 8. Shot of Nandor, laying back propped up on his elbows, watching the scene with shock, face flushed purple. Offscreen, Guillermo mutters to his victim 'Yeah, yeah yeah, just die already.' and stabs him again. With a choked 'Guh!', he does. /end page 2

ID page 3: 1. Full body of Guillermo from Nandor's POV as he stands up, bloody stake dripping from his right hand as he wipes gore off his cheek with the back of his left. There is a spatter of blood on the opposite cheek. He scowls down at the dead assassin and says 'Jeez, who even was that guy...' The background is a besotted bubbly pink. Nandor sits up a little higher, arms straightening. A duplicate of himself floats up behind him in a haze of pink bubbles, staring up at Guillermo with flushed cheeks and the words 'I desire you carnally' floating above his head. The real Nandor jerks back into awareness as Guillermo asks, 'You okay, Nandor?' 2. Nandor accepts the hand Guillermo offers to help pull him up, spluttering 'Of course I am! The only reason I did not bludgeon that assassin myself is because it is beneath me.' 3. Standing again, Nandor busies himself with brushing dirt off his robes, ignoring his feelings as usual. He snaps, 'Thats what I have you for.' Guillermo aims a fairly besotted smile his way regardless, tucking his stake back into his jacket interior and agreeing, 'You do ' 4. Repeat. Guillermo zips up his jacket and turns his head casually away, remarking 'Well, I guess we should head home? I've had enough fresh air, I think.' Nandor looks up suddenly and watches him with flushed cheeks, fiddling with his rings. 5. Close up on Guillermo from Nandor's POV as Nandor suddenly reaches out to cup his chin and wipe the drop of blood off his cheek with a thumb. Guillermo freezes, eyes wide and gaze fixed in another direction. 6a. The background turns a bubbly gold as Guillermo looks up at Nandor, eyes shining hopefully, face flushed pink. Nandor's hand lingers to stroke his cheek with the backs of his fingers. 6b. Reverse shot of Nandor in close up, aiming a proud, gentle smile at Guillermo and saying 'Thank you, Guillermo. I am...very lucky to have you by my side.' 7. Medium shot of them both on a mottled green background as Nandor pulls his hand back. Both hover uselessly as he looks away anxiously, eyes wide and a silly smile coming over his face. Guillermo looks similarly, hands hovering around his midsection and wide eyes looking away, unable to resist grinning. 8. Repeat. Nandor's arms go right at his sides as he straightens, snapping to attention with his eyes on the middle distance. He says, 'Anyway, let's go.' Guillermo's hands both clasp together at his waist as he similarly snaps out of it, wide eyes on the middle distance as he agrees, 'Yeah! Yup.' They are both blushing furiously. /End page 3

ID page 4: 1. Shot of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as Guillermo's hand pops into frame, palm up. Nandor looks up at him as he says 'Stick close, okay?' 2. Reverse shot of Guillermo from Nandor's POV, hand out, smiling easily with soft eyes as he continues, 'You never know...there could be assassins anywhere.' 3. Reverse shot of Nandor as he smirks, raising one eyebrow and holding out his own hand, palm down. He says slyly, playing along, 'I suppose you have a point there, Guillermo.' 4. Close up of their hands as Nandor places his large fingers in Guillermo's grip as if ready to step out of his coffin, Guillermo curling his own fingertips around him as if to beckon him closer. The background is a burst of green and gold bubbles. Nandor asks, 'You will protect me?' and Guillermo responds, 'Always.' 5. Full body shot from behind as Nandor and Guillermo make their way home, hands clasped together between them and looking at each other with fond, loving smiles. Before them, the path splits around a bright street lamp and goes into opposite directions, but they walk on together. In the bottom corner, a small wooden sign splattered with blood reads 'End'. /End ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #blood tw #violence tw #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #my art #fanart #image described #no actual squirrels were harmed in the making of this comic strip

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billyrayjo · 7 days

Text

How Time Flies (Fangs Pt. 2)

An: This is a part 2 to my previous post titled “fangs”!! Been drafting up some ideas for a while now!

Watching Damon hurl your bags into his trunk was not how you expected to spend your morning. Although, you were finding it hard to be disappointed about it.

He had shown up bright and early, scaring you out of your sleep with a pillow to your head. You vaguely remember hearing something along the lines of “I need my sexy sidekick for this one” as you stretched and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

Since it was going to be quite the drive, you had settled with a pair of leggings and a maroon sweatshirt representing your high school mascot as your OOTD. The loose curl your hair still held would suffice for the days plans.

After everything had been loaded into the car, Damon made it a point to speed through your neighborhood at unholy speeds for your departure.

Once you hit the interstate, you rolled your head to the drivers seat to take Damon in. He was wearing his signature leather jacket and had an all-knowing smirk on his face at your glance.

“What? Didn’t get enough of me in your dreams?” he mused, gaze turning to meet yours for a quick moment before going back to the road.

“Actually, I was trying to see if you were always so cocky even this early in the morning. I’d say the answer is yes..” you retorted, rolling your eyes but keeping your gaze on him.

He noticed your continued stare and glanced at you again, this time with a concerned look taking over his features.

“Is it bad, Damon?” you almost whispered, anxiety coursing through you as you pictured the scene you would arrive to in Alabama.

Elena was your friend, and as much as it pained you to suffer in hidden desire, you were still concerned about who she considered the love of her life. If you and Damon couldn’t figure this out, Elena would probably be in worse shape than she was when her parents died, and that brought fears to you far stronger than your annoyance with said lovers’ smutty brother.

At the look on your face, Damon forced a small smile of sympathy and reached over to push a piece of hair behind your ear.

“It’s not the best news, but it will at least bring us closer to finding him.” he muttered, hand landing on the juncture of your shoulder and neck before he pulled it away to playfully land it on your thigh.

“Enough depression. I’d rather not have to put in my Evanescence CD to match the emotions in this car.” he teased, right back to his sarcasm and smirks.

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out as you reached forward and turned up the radio. As the drive continued, you tried not to overthink the fact that Damon’s hand was still, in fact, resting on your thigh.

A couple of hours later, after stopping to inhale a Big Mac at a lone McDonald’s in the middle of nowhere, you felt your eyelids getting heavier as you watched the passing horizon. Deciding you wanted to take a nap, you first started with your head leaned against the window.

After a few minutes of that, your temple smacked directly into the glass as you heard Damon let out a little “oops” before you sat back upright.

Deciding to not let yourself over analyze it, you turned towards Damon and slowly reached out to pinch the sleeve his jacket. His head snapped towards you, an eyebrow raised in question as he tried to figure out what you were doing.

Gently, you tugged at the sleeve until Damon got the hint and brought his arm out for you, leaving it hovered over the center console as he awaited your next move. You gently grabbed his hand and pulled it across the console, wrapping your arms around his singular one and laying your head against his bicep. You tried to fight the blush off of your cheeks when you felt Damon looking down at you.

Anticipating Damon telling you to get off, you kept your eyes closed and a light grip on his arm. When his hand stretched further and rested back on your thigh, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and relaxed further onto his arm.

You awoke to something moving under your head, and groaned as the movement caused your neck to bend awkwardly. “We’re here, (y/n)” being whispered into your ear is what solidified the end of your slumber.

Sitting up, you let your arms rise above your head in a stretch as you tried to blink the blur of sleep out of your eyes.

Slumping back into the seat, you let your eyes close again and a murmur of curses tumble past your lips at the tiredness you felt. Your door being popped open alerted you, and you quickly sat back up and opened your eyes to see Damon standing in the crack, arms held out to you.

“Relax, pretty. We just need to check into the hotel.” Damon whispered, hand coming down to wrap around the wrist of your raised hand. You let him pull you out of the car before following him through the dingy front doors of a run-down looking motel.

“Was I asleep for that long?” you questioned, the bell above you signaling the two of you crossing the threshold. Glancing around the place, it seemed as if you and Damon were the only guests on the premises.

Wrapping an arm over your shoulder with a yawn, Damon ignored your question as he pulled you to the front counter. A short, plump teenager was sitting behind the counter, a small tv screen lit up in front of him.

“Room for two?” He asked, eyes not even moving from the TV. Damon let out a murmur of confirmation, his arm pulling you closer as he drummed his fingers on the countertop.

Letting yourself enjoy the moment, you leaned your head onto his chest and let your eyes fall shut once again. Keeping your arms crossed between you, you were turned entirely towards him with your forehead right at his collarbone. At your movement, Damon slid his arm off of your shoulders enough to allow his hand to grip the back of your neck, his hand sliding under your hair to keep the contact with your skin.

“That’ll be $35 even.” the man at the counter stated, and you heard the ring of a key being placed on the marble before you pulled yourself away from Damon.

Damon pulled out his wallet and threw down some cash before he swiped the key, and pushed you with his chest in the direction of the room. “Thanks man. Breakfast starts at 8? I know I’m going to be starving.” He mused, an obvious smirk on his face as he led you away.

As you both walked, you mentally scolded yourself for being so needy and touchy with Damon. Day by day, he was making you forget that he was a known vampire, and you knew you needed to keep your composure better. ESPECIALLY if you were going to be alone for the next few days…

Walking up to the door marked number 6, Damon inserted the key before kicking open the door. Your thoughts vanished as you took in the room, the single double bed staring back at you. Damon strolled in, threw down his duffel, and plopped down onto the bed.

Right as you were about to enter a nervous breakdown, Damon smirked with his eyes closed and teased, “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m an excellent cuddler.”.

You’re doomed..

Tags! @alexawhatstheweathertoday @bitchatemybagel @starved-kitten

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #fluff #comfort #hot as hell

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teeth-farie · 1 year

Text

There’s something about being high up that makes you feel so hidden yet open at the same time—or at least that’s how it feels to Aki.

His cigarette is hanging in his teeth, still burning but he’s long since taken an inhale, clenching around the paper and tobacco for nothing else than to gag himself.

Your hands are warm and strong on his hips, keeping him in place as your cock spears him open. There’s nothing like how he hugs you tight, how he trembles when you bottom out, how his hand will shoot back to grab at your hip when he’s close, urging you to stay deep inside.

Aki grips the balcony gate so tightly his knuckles turn white. He feels shame for doing this where anyone could see, but he doesn’t want it to stop. His knees almost knock together, his pajama pants fallen by his ankles. The sky is so dark, only the lights of other complexes and the stars illuminating the outside.

“Fu-huuu-uckk,” he slurs, finally dropping that cigarette from his lips, the burnt down nub falling the floors below to land on asphalt. You dig your fingers into his hip bones, just how he likes, and tug him back as you thrust in. Aki whimpers, biting his tongue. He needs to be quiet, the last thing he wants is his neighbors to come investigating. Yet the thrill of it all burns deep in him; who knew he had a taste for exhibitionism?

You fill him heavily and to the brim, shaping his insides around you, punch-fucking the gasps out of him.

“Feel good?” You ask a little airy, leaning back and spreading him open with your thumbs, watching how your cock sinks back into him.

“Yeah,” Aki says thickly, like he was trying to swallow down a moan. “Fuh-faster,” he says like a demand, and you’re more than happy to comply.

Maybe you’re a little tougher than you should be when you pick up the pace, but the devil hunter speaks now complaints, shoulders drawing tight and his toes curling in his slippers. Aki’s cock bobs between his legs, dripping and red. Carefully, he pushes a hand down to wrap around himself, hiccuping at the feeling.

He’s stumbling, wobbly on his feet and his knees knocking. You wrap an arm around his chest and pull him upright against you. Aki’s free hand flies up, anchoring on the back of your neck as his hand squeezes around the base of his dick in surprise.

“There we go, attaboy,” you all but coo, fucking into him impossibly deeper. The angle guides your length right up against his prostate, the spongy little thing practically begging for its share of abuse- Aki remembers how much it made him leak and drool the last time you put your focus on it.

His sweatshirt hides his stomach, but he still looks down like he expects to see a bulge. A white hot fiery jolt of pleasure shoots through his veins as your cockhead fucks right into his prostate, the feeling like torturing and open nerve in all the right ways. He feels dizzy. God, he feels so good.

His fingers bury themselves in your hair, tugging tightly, his head turning to meet you in a kiss. You laugh against his mouth, light and melting into a moan. Aki always gets needy when he’s about to cum, always tugging you into a kiss if the position allows. His fist is pumping faster, precum leaking through his fingers as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You don’t need to ask and he doesn’t need to tell, clenching around you, his legs tight and gut knotted.

The way you suck on his bottom lip seems to send him over, simultaneously trying to fuck into his hand and back onto your dick. Your arm across his waist holds him steady, a hand tight on his hip as you fuck him through it, spurts of cum leaking from his cock.

It splatters on the balcony floor and railing and you can’t help but push his hand out of the way to finish milking him yourself, relishing that not so manly squeal he makes because of it.

You keep going until he’s hissing in overstimulation, smacking at your fist. You release him gently, letting his softened dick fall back between his legs. Aki breathes heavily against your lips, panting as he finally comes down from his orgasm.

“Jesus…” he grunts, shifting on his feet and groaning as you still throb inside him. “Fuck…y-you didn’t?”

“Not yet,” you nuzzle your nose against his neck.

“Let me suck you off then.” Aki croons, fingers lightly scratching against your scalp, his eyelashes fluttering when he feels your cock jerk in interest.

You pull out of him, slowly easing your way out until your cockhead pops free and leaves a gaping hole in its wake. The sight fills you with satisfaction, and watching Aki shuffle around and sink onto his knees makes it even better. Yeah, maybe he did have a little exhibitionist streak after all.

#aki #spicy #sub chainsaw man #sub csm #I had to post this a second time #cause tumblr kept fucking up

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

@thorniest-rose this is ur fault your tags on part one made me emotional so here’s one more part <3 love u also i added it as chapter two of broken brain <3

cw: tics; self-deprecation

“Hey, baby.”

Eddie looks up from where he’s sitting at the kitchen island, his legs crossed on his seat in front of him, setting his pen down.

“Hi.”

“How’re you?” Steve asks softly, taking off his vest and dropping it on the countertop, coming close.

“Having a rough day,” Eddie says, the words barely out of his mouth before his chin jerks to the side, turning his head sharply. He closes his eyes, sighing heavily, and before he can open them, Steve is sliding his hands over Eddie’s neck gently, rubbing it tenderly. Eddie moves slowly, shifting to face Steve, and before he can lean into Steve’s torso, his hand flies out and hits Steve’s hip hard. Eddie flinches, pressing his hand to the spot carefully.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve murmurs, one of his hands pushing through Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s stomach twists, and he huffs quietly, closing his eyes. “What is it?”

Eddie shakes his head, opening his eyes to look up at him.

Steve touches his face, his fingers brushing over his cheek, over the rough, sensitive skin of his scar, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“What is it?” he asks quietly.

Eddie exhales, turning his cheek into Steve’s palm, feeling the tension leave his body.

“…How are you not tired of me?” he asks after a moment.

Steve blinks, his expression hardening, but his hands remain soft on him.

“What do you mean?” he asks in a small voice.

“I just…” Eddie shrugs weakly. “Feel like you should be fed up with me by now,” he half-jokes, but Steve frowns, his fingers trailing over Eddie’s jaw.

“Why would you think that?” he asks quietly, like he’s offended.

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes stinging a little bit. His hand tightens on Steve’s hip, one of his fingers holding loop of his jeans.

“I keep hitting you,” he says weakly. It happens often. Not as often as his whistling, or his head jerking, his eyes squeezing shut or rolling to the ceiling, but often. When they’re on the sofa, when they’re hugging, when they’re just talking. Eddie wants to cry every time, but Steve doesn’t even acknowledge it, except for the occasional it’s okay.

“You can’t control that, babe,” Steve says adamantly.

“I know, it’s just…” Eddie looks away, frustrated. “I keep hurting you.”

“I think you think you hit a lot harder than you do.”

“Steve,” Eddie says seriously, tugging at his belt loop, looking up at him. “I almost smacked you in the face the other day.”

“You redirected,” Steve says lightly, shrugging.

“Steve.”

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“I…” Of course he doesn’t. But it feels like Steve should be mad at him. Or at least annoyed. “I don’t know.”

“Well I’m not,” Steve says firmly, holding his chin. “Ever. Okay?”

It doesn’t make Eddie feel better. He exhales, looking down, at the blue ink on the top of Steve’s thigh, rough doodles on his jeans from when he gets bored at work.

Steve sighs, pushing Eddie’s hair back before he lets go of him, moving so Eddie’s hand falls from his hip, and he pushes Eddie’s sketchbook out of the way, looking at the drawing on the open page. It’s an unfinished sketch, messy and not very good at all in Eddie’s overly humble opinion, but Steve smiles at it.

“‘S good,” he says softly as he pulls himself up onto the counter. Eddie watches him, watches the muscles of his arms flex, and his cheeks flush with warmth when Steve reaches for the armrests of his chair and easily pulls him closer, between his legs.

Eddie looks up at him, that familiar feeling settling in his chest, and he reaches his hands up, setting his arms across Steve’s legs, holding his hips again.

“Talk,” Steve says softly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He touches said head, runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, scratches at his scalp. Eddie wants to cry.

Eddie sighs, leaning to rest his cheek on Steve’s knee, closing his eyes.

“Just…” His shoulder jerks slightly. He ignores it. “I don’t know. Kinda crazy you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

“Why would I ever get sick of you?” Steve asks softly, playing with Eddie’s hair. “Hm?”

“Because I keep hitting you,” Eddie says sullenly, letting go of Steve’s hips. “Because I… throw things and hit things and I’m… noisy.” He pushes Steve’s shirt up with one hand, the other falling under the island, untucking it and pressing his hands under the fabric to Steve’s skin. “I interrupt. I’m annoying.”

Steve pulls his hands away and untucks the rest of his shirt, holding it up with one hand so Eddie can trace his scars softly, gazing.

“You’re not annoying, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t believe him, and Steve can tell.

“Eddie, baby, look at me.”

Eddie looks at him without lifting his head. His vision is obstructed by his hair, and Steve gently moves it out of the way.

“You are not annoying,” he says again, softer, his eyes shining earnestly. “I know you can’t control it.”

“That just makes it more annoying,” Eddie grumbles.

“No, it doesn’t.” Steve’s fingers drag through his hair.

Eddie exhales, looking back at where his hand is tracing Steve’s scars.

“You’re annoyed by it,” Steve says, and Eddie nods against his leg. “I’m not, Eddie.”

Eddie is quiet, a tingling starting on his shoulders like he’s going to shiver, and he tenses.

“Alright, Eddie, look at me,” Steve says, his voice shifting, tapping Eddie’s cheek to prompt him to lift his head. Eddie does, muttering a soft, “Hold on,” and looking away. He pushes his shoulders back, closing his eyes, and Steve waits quietly, patiently, until Eddie’s head jerks back violently, and his shoulders shrug up suddenly. A second passes before Eddie drops his head, sighing and relaxing.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Eddie shivers before he looks up at him tiredly, and Steve leans down, holding his face between his face, looking into his eyes.

“I need you to, like, really listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes.

“When I say that you’re annoying,” Steve says, still looking into his eyes, “or obnoxious, or any of those things, I don’t mean it. I’m just teasing. And if you don’t like it, or if it hurts you, I’ll stop.” He looks so earnest that Eddie almost hurts. “And when I say those things,” Steve says slowly, carefully and intentionally, “I’m talking about how you act with the kids, usually. When you’re…” He shrugs, smiling softly. “Immature and chaotic. But even though I tease, I love when you act like that.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Even though it riles them up?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Because they get to just be kids when you’re fucking around with them.”

Oh.

Eddie smiles softly.

“And,” Steve continues, “when I say those things, I am never, ever talking about your tics. You understand me?”

Eddie nods weakly, his eyes burning.

“You are not annoying to me, Eddie,” Steve says softly, leaning down and leaving a careful kiss on his lips. “I promise.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Eddie asks, exasperated. Steve looks at him.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks quietly.

“It’s constant, Steve,” Eddie says, his eyes burning. “And you just… put up with it, you— you’re always getting me ice, or holding my hand still, or getting pillows for me, or…” He exhales, looking up at Steve desperately. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“I like taking care of you,” Steve says adamantly. Eddie looks away, holding back an eyeful. “Eddie, I’m serious, look at me.”

Eddie looks up at him. His lips are pressed together, his eyes shining with some unreadable, desperate emotion.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

Steve leans down and kisses him, holding his face between his hands so his cheeks are squishing under his palms, sucking softly on his lower lip, slow and careful like everything he’s ever done with Eddie.

He pauses when they part, their foreheads pressed together, breathing a little hard, holding Eddie close. Eddie slides his other hand under Steve’s shirt. His skin is warm. His scars are rough, the skin thick and sensitive, tender evidence of his survival. Eddie likes to kiss them.

“I love you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie’s eyes open. His breath escapes him, and it’s like his bones melt. He slumps, squeezing his eyes shut as the words wash over him, his hands squeezing Steve’s sides softly.

“Really?” he chokes, pulling away after a moment. Steve’s eyes are tear-filled.

“Really really,” he says softly. Eddie blinks tears back, sliding his hands over Steve’s sides.

“I don’t get tired of taking care of you,” Steve murmurs, looking at Eddie’s face, his thumb brushing over his trembling lip, “because taking care of you, and helping you, and looking after you is… me loving you.” He pauses for a moment, letting their foreheads touch. “And I don’t ever get tired of loving you.”

Eddie’s whole body hurts.

He chokes Steve’s name weakly, his voice broken, almost squeaking, too high and small for it to even be understood, but Steve just kisses him even though he can’t kiss back, because tears are streaming down his cheeks, over Steve’s fingers.

A small sob escapes Eddie, and Steve pulls him into a hug, running his hands over his head as he buries his face in Steve’s belly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, his hands pressing into the small of his back, against his warm skin. Steve’s hands are shaking as they run through his hair.

Eddie’s shoulders jerk as he cries, just once, and Steve’s hands smooth over them gently, sweetly, gathering his hair back.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve's voice says softly, and Eddie feels like he’s surfacing from under cold water, gasping for breath, like his lungs are breathing properly for the first time in his life.

“I love you too,” he chokes, lifting his head and looking up at him. His vision is blurry with tears. He can still see Steve’s smile. “I love you so much.”

Steve laughs softly, sniffling, leaning down to kiss him chastely.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly, focusing on the feeling of Steve’s hands running over his cheeks, wiping his tears away. His head shakes slightly, but Steve doesn’t move his hands. He leans down to kiss his forehead.

“God,” Eddie exhales, holding his hips above the waistband of his jeans. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Steve whispers. “You don’t have to apologize and you don’t have to thank me.”

He leans down and kisses his lips gently, murmuring a soft I love you, and Eddie reaches up, sliding his hands over Steve’s shoulders, over his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss him harder. After a moment he remembers that he’s sitting, and without pulling away, he stands, kicking his chair back noisily, one of his hands pushing into Steve’s hair as the other clutches at the small of his back. Steve’s legs wrap around his waist, and he tilts his head to kiss him deeper, holding Eddie’s face like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

They’re both breathless and panting when they part. Steve’s fingers dance over the sides of Eddie’s neck, over his scars, making him shiver. (It’s a nice shiver.) They press their foreheads together, sharing breaths, eyes closed.

Steve pulls away after a moment, caressing Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’m not gonna get tired of you, Eddie,” he whispers. “You’re stuck with me, baby.”

Eddie laughs softly, sniffling and nuzzling his face into Steve’s cheek.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#considered making this spicy but one of my wips is almost pure spice so i thought maybe not #if someone wants to steal this and make it spicy go ahead #anyway obviously i’m extremely weak for first i love yous #i dont think im gonna write more eddie w tics for a while bc it kinda triggers my tics (its not too bad dw im ok)#and also i have like seventy wips #but if anyone writes eddie w tics i would love to read it <333 #steddie #steddie oneshot #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things ficlet

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wonwooverse · 11 months

Note

Helloo. I saw that your hard hours are open and may I ask if you do write nsfw drabbles for these? If yes, can I please request for one with seungcheol. I think the anon who stayed up till 4am brought me into a cheolrut with them.😪 Can you pleasee write something relating to him treating you after your finals that has been going on forever? I'm sorry if it's too much🙏🏻

forever and always in a cheolrut🫡🫡 - also i may have gotten a little carried away with this oops

as soon as your final exam was over you damn near ran out of that building, probably breaking every speeding law imaginable to just be able to get home and relax.

leading up to and during your finals you had practically been a ticking time bomb, so tightly wound and stressed out from the constant studying and sleepless nights that everyone thought you could blow at any second. sheltering yourself away from everyone l, especially seungcheol, for hours and hours on end.

you could feel that stress slowly unwinding and falling off your shoulders with every step you took closer to your apartment and all of it had pretty much disappeared as soon as you opened the door.

the smell from the kitchen smacking you in the face and instantly making you drool, the low lights and soft music playing in the background and then seungcheol sat looking as perfect as ever, waiting to greet you by the door.

“hi love, how do you feel?” he whispered, slowly taking you into his arms.

“honestly, pretty good… even better now i’m home.”

he hummed in agreement with his face pressed against your neck, trying to keep the both of you in this peaceful moment for as long as possible.

when he eventually unravelled himself from you, he took your hand and led you to the kitchen, “made your favourite for you to enjoy, love”

“thank you so much, cheolie” you mumbled as you gently press your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him as close to you as possible.

when the kiss started to get more desperate and heated, he pulled away causing a pout to form on your face.

“aww angel, don’t frown… would like to start with dessert if that’s okay with you?” his voice lowering to the deep tone you love so much as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, pulling down the flimsy legging and underwear that was covering your centre.

“let me get you nice and relaxed before we eat.. you deserve it” he says as he parts your thighs to move closer to your pussy, moving his tongue in one bold stripe and circling your clit, smiling up at you with literal love heart eyes when your head flies back and whimpers fall from your mouth.

“gonna get you to cum now for me, then again after dinner, then a couple more times before we go to bed.. does that doing good to you, love?”

and who could say no to that pretty face, especially when he has such a slutty mouth.

#seventeen smut #kpop smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut

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poisonpeche · 2 years

Text

The Promise | Levi x You

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, SQUIRTING, Being honestly, truly nasty as fuck, dacryphilia, anal play, impact play (one consensual slap), vaginal fingering, degradation, Levi & Reader are switch.

Header is my art that you can see more of here!

A sheen of his own pathetic saliva catches the glow of the room’s light, clinging to his chin with glazed eyes barely open in shock.

Your fingers still sopping wet from the gag you forced into his smart mouth, throat desperately constricting, lashes laden thick with his tears that are now yours as you delicately lick them away, sliding one by one down his flushed cheek.

Somehow he still won’t shut up.

But could you really say you want him to? Every word dripping off his tongue carried by his dark voice has you writhing for more. More friction. More of his touch. You’ll take it all. And you do, because you’re his…

“Sweet girl,” he raggedly breathes out into your neck, stuttering breaths against your skin betraying his own power struggle for control again. He’s actually trying to compose himself. He’ll pay for trying.

His jaw unbearably shakes with anticipation once you temporarily withdraw your urges to overpower him. Adrenaline seeps into his brain. Maybe he can win. Just this once. You’ll let him think he can. It’s half the fun after all. You can be sweet…right?

His burning skin is still pressed behind you, spooning you on the bed, arm snaked underneath your knee, folding it to your chest on your side. The forced vulnerability of your pose makes your mind reel, plunging you into the security of your own yield.

“For you, I’ll try.” Feigned meekness isn’t your strong suit, but it’s music to Levi.

“You don’t have to. Not like this,” he gathers up what you’ve offered you both so far, gently smearing your slick over your lips, painting you.

He has an obsession with the high of your body. The smell, the taste. He offers it to you and your lips part. His eyes never leaving yours with pupils blown wide like dark pools.

As soon as you begin to sink into submission, getting lost in his control, your eyes snap open and you call his game off. You quickly reach up and snatch his lower jaw through his lips, curling your fingers around his bottom row of teeth, holding him hostage and his eyes plead for mercy.

You sit forward pulling his entire body up by your bit. He shamelessly whimpers in your clutch, scrambling into a kneel before you, sitting on his feet with back arched in a sharp bow as you tower over him now.

“That’s right, Levi. You’ll get this pussy, if you make due on that promise. Now what’s my baby going to do.” His cock throbs untouched and he’s just as wet as you now. Your snicker fanning over the drying tears on his face. You miss them already.

He strains his voice incoherently on your fingers, you look on menacingly not even trying to hear his words, and he bites down in frustration.

Your other hand flys up, grabbing his hair and yanking him roughly back and he falls off his heels, ass flush on the bed in between his folded legs on either side of him with ankles splayed outward. The movement exposes his gorgeous neck in the dim light, lips gaping, lungs gasping for air like he just breached the surface in time. If his first breath is laced with the smell of your pussy, he’d die a happy man. He swallows deeply, throat bobbing in regret as he keeps his gaze locked on you from his side eye. It’s your game now.

“How dare you snap at me, Levi.” You unhand his mouth with a sneer, letting it fall open.

“J-just hit m-”

The smack echoes throughout the room and his head flies to the side in your follow through. He pants, chest heaving as you meet his desperate demand. The red mark already burning to the surface of his skin as he looks up at you through the side of his eyes again.

“Why didn’t you just ask nicely, baby? Now stop wasting my time and get on your hands and knees.”

He kneels further down, looking up at you with doe eyes and wet lashes framing the tender, innocent look on his face.

“You did this. Now, what are you going to do, Levi?”

He blinks away more tears in awe of you. The sting blooming on his skin, a reminder.

“God…you’re…s’beautiful,” he slurs between pants eyes locked on you, staring up through his lashes.

“I didn’t ask that, baby.” You gently tap the crimson mark on his cheek, causing him to wince and bite back a moan. “Now, tell me. I know you can.”

He blinks away the innocence in his eyes, steeling his expression as cold as the irises glaring up at you.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til you come down my throat. That’s a promise.”

As you throw your head back to taunt him your eyes roll back under covered lids.

“God, you’re disgusting.”

And with that? He’s had enough, lunging at you like an animal from his prone position, catching you off guard as you’re distracted with insulting him. He throws you back on the bed, quickly grasping your ankles, pulling you down flat towards him. Now, he hangs over you, straddling your thighs.

“Wait until I make you the same fucking way,” he growls, grinding into you, hips rolling, and he feels you through your panties, smearing your slick with the precum on his dick, marking you. “Or are you already? Sweet girl…selfish slut.” He laughs darkly into the air thick above you.

He encases your throat in his soft hand, squeezing gently and stifling your moan as he moves down your body, past your navel, biting you and dragging his snarled mouth toward your lips, taking one in his teeth and pulling, watching it bounce into place, slapping into your wet inner thigh.

You groan at the pain and his breath fans over your pussy, shaking before him.

“You’ve never broken one,” your voice trembles.

“What, my love?”

“A promise.”

“I don’t plan to, sweetheart. Not with you.”

He dives into you. Pulling your swollen clit into his mouth, sucking gently and still managing to lick in small, concentrated circles around you inside his mouth. He cries out at the taste and the heat and pressure of his breath nearly throw you over the edge.

A decade together and he knows exactly how to play you. You talk a big game, but he’ll have you screaming soon.

He releases you in an instant as you buck your hips into his mouth and he-

Slap. You violently jerk against his hand as an inhuman noise escapes you deep within your chest.

Slap. Your pussy practically cries out in return, running down your ass and soaking the bed before him.

Before he can lightly hit your cunt again you grab his wrist in warning.

“Levi, I…I-I can’t.” Now, you’re heaving.

“Folding so fast, hm? I thought you were better than that.” He laughs into your dripping slit and you clench in front of him while he nuzzles into your thigh, hiding his smirk and his moan of utter disbelief.

“You’re the nasty one. Look at you, I wish you could see yourself fucking clenching like that, God. You said you’d try to be sweet for me, right?”

You sheepishly nod as you release his wrist and he hovers over your lips again.

“Then behave.”

Your thighs nearly clamp down over his ears in reaction to his command and he throws them off, pinning them flat into the bed.

He growls your name in the back of his throat, seething. His eyes rake over your writhing body in disappointment. You’ll learn to listen or maybe you’ll just regret disobeying him this time. His patience has worn thin. Just like the line of your arousal that breaks as he toys with your slick against the light, mesmerized.

He licks his fingers and slips below, circling the rim of your ass. He pushes in unceremoniously. Your whines speak for him.

A beat passes and he waits for you to adjust-

“Well?”

You can’t be serious with that fucking attitude of yours…He’s tempted to break you with your back talk as he looks on incredulously, moving forward, resting his cock on your clit. The only friction you’ll get is the faint jumping of his dick with each pretty noise you make as he stretches you open.

“Well, what? Did you have something else to tell me? Or were you just gonna sit in your own mess tonight…you filthy thing.”

And with his words, more begins to trickle between your legs and onto his plush hairs below.

That does it, and whatever he had planned is abandoned…All that matters now is feeling you convulse on his tongue.

He pushes the backs of your thighs up, hooking them over his shoulders with his chin resting on the damp sheets. He’s half tempted to nuzzle the side of his face in them, covering himself in you. Instead he licks the fabric beneath you, then moves upward, over your ass, and deep into your slit. He pushes his face so far into you his tongue is nearly inches away from that spot that’ll have you incoherent in his arms.

His sharp nose nearly suffocated in your pussy and you have the audacity to grind against it, riding him shamelessly while he drowns in the sounds your skin makes against him.

He comes up for air, rolling his eyes softly open with heavy lids, and he peers past your lips, the dips of your hip bones, your hardened nipples, and into your eyes.

He couldn’t care less about how rough you are with him when you look at him like that. Pure adoration. He can smell the love you have for him seeping through your very skin. He can’t help but be soft when your eyes meet. So much so it’s hard to keep up the act. You always reveal your truth there even when you want to live out your filthy fantasies fucking yourself on his tongue. He’ll give you what you want. Whatever you want. As long as he can have you like this.

“Keep looking at me like that.”

You break eye contact, looking away.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, love. I wanna see you. Do it for me.”

Your eyes roam back into place locking the steeled gaze.

“There’s my baby. I don’t want you to miss a damn thing.”

Two fingers slip into your entrance without resistance and one deep into your ass. His other hand reaches up to your nipple pinching hard.

Overwhelmed at every sensitive spot on your body, you begin to shake uncontrollably against his thrusts, swelling against his fingers reaching so deep inside you.

“Levi.”

He doesn’t relent, ignoring you. You deserve this after all the shit you put him through tonight.

“Levi, please,” you beg and he begins to pull your clit into his mouth again while he thrusts into both entrances.

You grab onto his hair in protest, but it’s too much, too fast.

“Stop, Lev-!” You scream aloud.

He immediately pulls away in complete surprise, and the sight below him that catches his eye? The eroticism of it all has him seeing stars.

The first wave slides all the way down his forearm and his eyes widen in absolute shock.

“Fuuuck…fuck yes. Baby please, keep going,” he begs you as if you’re fucking him.

You look down in exasperation and see him with his eyes rimmed red with dried tears, the mark a deep red on his face, mouth open, tongue out, waiting for you.

As you lock eyes together again, another wave pummels through you landing in a stream on his tongue, down his throat, just the way he fucking wanted. Pretty.

He nearly bites his own tongue to catch all that you give while you thrash against the sheets, crying out for the love of your life.

No one keeps a promise like he can.

***

Previous Chapter

@peace-for-levi this one’s for you, baby 🖤

#levi ackerman #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #aot #levi fanfiction #levi fan art #levi art #anime #my art #sub!levi #dom!levi #my fics #fics by alla

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katnissmellarkkk · 6 months

Text

Here’s the completion to my Katniss receiving affection bookcomb series. However I’ll just say… it’s really light on the Everlark. And heavy on the … not Everlark. But 🤷🏼‍♀️. Is what it is.

I look in his eyes and see my own grief reflected there. Our hands find each other, holding fast to a part of 12 that Snow has somehow failed to destroy.

“I doubt they’ll ask for details. They saw it burn. They’ll mostly be worried about how you’re handling it.” Gale touches my cheek. “Like I am.”

Careful not to rouse my mother, Prim eases herself from the bed, scoops up Buttercup, and sits beside me. She touches the hand that has curled around the pearl. “You’re cold.” Taking a spare blanket from the foot of the bed, she wraps it around all three of us, enveloping me in her warmth and Buttercup’s furry heat as well.

[…]

I feel the kind of relief that follows an actual solution. “I should wake you up more often, little duck.”

“I wish you would,” says Prim. She gives me a kiss. “Try and sleep now, all right?”

Gale sits next to me and puts an arm around my shoulder. “She’ll fix them up.”

I cross to him and say, “Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so I nudge him to get his attention. “Finnick! How are you doing?”

“Katniss,” he says, gripping my hand. Relieved to see a familiar face, I think.

Haymitch holds up the notepad. “So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?”

“They were Katniss’s,” says Gale quietly. “No one told her what to do or say.”

“Unscripted, yes!” says Beetee. He reaches over and pats my hand. “So we should just leave you alone, right?”

“Katniss?” a voice croaks out from my left, breaking apart from the general din. “Katniss?” A hand reaches for me out of the haze. I cling to it for support. Attached to the hand is a young woman with an injured leg. Blood has seeped through the heavy bandages, which are crawling with flies. Her face reflects her pain, but something else, too, something that seems completely incongruous with her situation. “Is it really you?”

[…]

I begin to move, clasping the hands extended to me, touching the sound parts of those unable to move their limbs, saying hello, how are you, good to meet you. Nothing of importance, no amazing words of inspiration. But it doesn’t matter. Boggs is right. It’s the sight of me, alive, that is the inspiration.

Hungry fingers devour me, wanting to feel my flesh. As a stricken man clutches my face between his hands, I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That’s how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

Boggs quickly examines my face, then scoops me up and jogs for the runway. Halfway there, I puke on his bulletproof vest. It’s hard to tell because he’s short of breath, but I think he sighs.

[…]

I want to take off my vest, since I got a fair amount of vomit on it as well, but it’s too cold to think about it. I lie on the floor with my head in Gale’s lap. The last thing I remember is Boggs spreading a couple of burlap sacks over me.

When Gale slides into the seat next to my wheelchair, I say, “Making new friends?”

His eyes flicker to the president and back. “Well, one of us has to be accessible.” He touches my temple gently. “How do you feel?”

Plutarch crosses to me, laughing. “Where do you come up with this stuff? No one would believe it if we made it up!” He throws an arm around me and kisses me on the top of my head with a loud smack. “You’re golden!”

“He’s worse,” I whisper. Finnick grasps my hand, to give me an anchor, and I try to hang on.

I reach for Prim in the twilight, clamp my hand on her leg, and pull myself over to her. Her voice remains steady as she croons to Buttercup. “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right. We’ll be okay down here.”

My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder.

I curl up with Prim on the mattress, double layering the blankets because the cavern emits a dank chill.

[…]

Whatever the opposite of fine is, that’s what I am. So I go ahead and tell her about Peeta, his deterioration on-screen, and how I think they must be killing him at this very moment. Buttercup has to rely on himself for a while, because now Prim turns her attention to me. Pulling me closer, brushing the hair back behind my ears with her fingers. I’ve stopped talking because there’s really nothing left to say and there’s this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I’m even having a heart attack, but it doesn’t seem worth mentioning.

I take my position and then I’m staring into the red light. Staring. Staring. “I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing.”

Cressida walks up to me. “You feeling okay?” I nod. She pulls a small cloth from her pocket and blots my face.

Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he’s there, holding me and patting my back. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say.

“I know,” he says.

“All I can think of is — what he’s going to do to Peeta — because I’m the Mockingjay!” I get out.

“I know.” Haymitch’s arm tightens around me.

Haymitch sits in the chair by my bed, his skin waxen, his eyes bloodshot. I remember about Peeta and start to tremble again.

Haymitch reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “It’s all right. We’re going to try to get Peeta out.”

Prim, who appeared moments after the attack and has stayed as close to me as possible ever since, spreads another blanket over me. “I think they’ll take the collar off soon, Katniss. You won’t be so cold then.” My mother, who’s been assisting in a complicated surgery, has still not been informed of Peeta’s assault. Prim takes one of my hands, which is clutched in a fist, and massages it until it opens and blood begins to flow through my fingers again. She’s starting on the second fist when the doctors show up, remove the collar, and give me a shot of something for pain and swelling.

Gale’s not supposed to visit me, as he’s confined to bed with some kind of shoulder wound. But on the third night, after I’ve been medicated and the lights turned down low for bedtime, he slips silently into my room. He doesn’t speak, just runs his fingers over the bruises on my neck with a touch as light as moth wings, plants a kiss between my eyes, and disappears.

As Prim tucks me into bed, he hops up on my pillow, vying for her attention.

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we’ve dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he’ll never come back to me. Or I’ll never go back to him. I’ll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he’ll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I’ve withheld, and because it doesn’t matter anymore, and because I’m so desperately lonely I can’t stand it. Gale’s touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body’s still alive, and for the moment it’s a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. “Katniss,” he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. “Now kiss me.” Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly.

My father. He seems to be everywhere today. Dying in the mine. Singing his way into Peeta’s muddled consciousness. Flickering in the look Boggs gives me as he protectively wraps the blanket around my shoulders. I miss him so badly it hurts.

“Always.”

In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It’s a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers.

“Your cousin’s not afraid of me,” she says confidentially. She scoots off my bed and crosses to the door, nudging Gale’s leg with her hip as she passes him. “Are you, gorgeous?” We can hear her laughter as she disappears down the hall.

I raise my eyebrows at him as he takes my hand. “Terrified,” he mouths. I laugh, but it turns into a wince. “Easy.” He strokes my face as the pain ebbs. “You’ve got to stop running straight into trouble.”

Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. “So that’s what you’re thinking now?” I shrug. “Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he’s not seeing you as you really are.” He kisses my cheek and goes.

The morning we ship out, I say good-bye to my family. I haven’t told them how much the Capitol’s defenses mirror the weapons in the arena, but my going off to war is awful enough on its own. My mother holds me tightly for a long time. I feel tears on her cheek, something she suppressed when I was slated for the Games.

[…]

“Next time we see each other, we’ll be free of him,” says Prim firmly. Then she throws her arms around my neck. “Be careful.”

I move to Gale, press my forehead into the body armor where his chest should be, feel his arm tighten around me.

The others are shouting at me, but I can’t seem to respond. Strong arms lift me as I blast the head off a mutt whose claws have just grazed my ankle.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feel his arms hesitate before they embrace me. Not as steady as they once were, but still warm and strong. A thousand moments surge through me. All the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone forever.

In the bedroom, I find another surprise. Sitting upright in a chair. Polished from her metallic gold wig to her patent leather high heels, gripping a clipboard. Remarkably unchanged except for the vacant look in her eyes.

“Effie,” I say.

“Hello, Katniss.” She stands and kisses me on the cheek as if nothing has occurred since our last meeting, the night before the Quarter Quell. “Well, it looks like we’ve got another big, big, big day ahead of us. So why don’t you start your prep and I’ll just pop over and check on the arrangements.”

Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.

“That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family,” he says. “Shoot straight, okay?” He touches my cheek and leaves.

I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. “On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.”

#thg #hunger games #everlark #katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #primrose Everdeen #Gale Hawthorne #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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iyamaggies-blog · 11 months

Text

Probs gonna make a part 2 to this

The narrator/reader is the yandere 😈

Still haven’t watched shippuden lol everything I know about Tobi/Obito is from other fanfics Lolol hope you enjoy!!

Let’s eat salad

I wonder what they talk about?

I would never spy on my precious Tobi, no I’m just keeping a thoughtful eye on him. Hiding in the trees nearby I can see Zetsu bothering Tobi in the forest.

Their meetings are sneaky. Something private just between them.

I can’t imagine why my darling would never mentions such meetings to me.

I bet this is somehow Zetsu’s fault…. Creating space between me and my beloved, one hushed whisper at a time. Making my cherished Tobi believe I’m someone to keep secrets from! I should be Tobis favorite!

He’d be better as a base for my salad!

I don’t trust him, that literal two faced-

“Got you!”

A small gasp escapes me as I’m yanked from my thoughts by Tobis firm grasp pulling me flush to his chest and lifting me off the ground into a tight bear hug as he cheers excitedly in my ear. How did he get behind me so fast?

“Did you think you could sneak up on Tobi?” He asks pressing the face of his mask close to my ear and swaying my body around side to side.

A smile tugs at my face and an embarrassingly dainty and girlish giggle flies past my lips as I squeak out his name

“Tobi!”

“I was gonna try and spook you but you caught me!” I blurt if between giggles. He lowers me so my feet can touch the ground releasing his grip on me and turns me around to face him, the casual man handling sending a jolt of excitement throughout my body.

“Silly senpai! You weren’t sneaky at all! You could never prank Tobi because Tobi is the master of pranks!”

“Oh maybe since your so bad at it I could teach you! Then you could call me senpai!”

I can’t help but stare up at him adoringly. Tobi is a silly secretive man who’s body is almost completely covered in fabric, but even with all the layers of cotton between us I feel so close to him. Ever since he joined the Akatsuki he’s paid special attention to me. He tried to act somewhat professional at first, polite enthusiastic small talk and lingering glances which soon escalated into pet games and playful manhandling. I immediately found myself coming up with any flimsy excuse I could to spend even another second with him. Im the one he’s supposed to have hushed whispers with…

Everything would be better if zetsu disappeared….

Noticing the silence I’ve let stretch between us I take a step towards Tobi and gently wrap my arms around his torso. Tilting my head upwards and resting my chin on his chest to set my loving gaze directly at his masks singular eye hole.

“Will you please teach me how to be sneaky Tobi-senpai?”

I’m gonna make zetsu disappear.

The sickeningly sweet tone of my voice seems to fluster Tobi, his hands lift and freeze by his sides and he takes a moment stumbling over his words. My opportunity to strike.

I quickly release my arms from his his torso and grasp around his shoulders hauling myself up his much taller frame to smack a quick peck of my lips to his mask. Promptly releasing my grip on him as I fall back to my feet a few steps back, cackling obnoxiously.

“Did I surprise you Senpai?? I’m really a quick learner!” I shout out between laughs. My hand covering my mouth as I look up at him through my eyelashes.

My laughter is interrupted my a surprised gasp as Tobi again pulls me from the ground this time hoisting me over his shoulder.

“Oh such a naughty student I have!”

He exclaims with a playful tone as he begins to walk towards the Akatsuki base. I can feel his muscles shifting under the fabric of his cloak as he carries me effortlessly. I can't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation for what's to come. Maybe Tobi will teach me some tricks on how to deal with Zetsu.

As we enter the base, I can feel the eyes of the other members on us. I can sense the jealousy and curiosity in their gazes, but I don't care. I'm too focused on Tobi and the way his large hand grips on the back of my my thighs, internally pleasing for his touch to slide higher…

We walk into a dark room and Tobi sets me down gently. He turns to face me, his mask still covering his face, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze.

"First lesson, senpai," he says, his voice low and serious. "You must always be aware of your surroundings. You never know who might be watching or listening."

With that, Tobi disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone in the room. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I try to focus on my surroundings. I can hear the faint sound of footsteps and the rustling of fabric.

Suddenly, Tobi appears behind me grabbing my wrist and spinning me around to face him. I try to wiggle out of his grasp but he takes control of my other wrist using his weight to knock me off balance and lower me to the ground. Hovering over top of me with my wrists still firmly in his grasp he kneels between my thighs bends down so his masked face is just inches from mine. “Oh wow you look adorable like this! So cute and helpless just for Tobi!”

His tone is teasing but the comment freezes me in place. Just for Tobi….

“Lesson number two, senpai," he states his breath hot against my skin. "Always be ready for anything! Wouldn’t want to find yourself pinned underneath your opponent! Especially one so much larger than you!” Even though the intention is playful I’ve had enough of Tobis mockery! Time to fight back!

and I fight dirty….

Planting my one foot on the ground for leverage I anchor my opposite thigh firmly over his hip around his waist and grind my pelvis against his. I see his single eye widen and he pulls back slightly, I think I hear a small gasp and it’s his turn to freeze above me. Using his surprise to my advantage I break free of his grip and grab his hands. I drag his one hand up to cup the side of my face. I can feel the intensity of his gaze as he hovers silently above me. “What’s the matter senpai? Did I surprise you again?” Wearing a devilish grin I take the opportunity to grind against him again as I tentatively Intertwine the fingers of our other hands. I see his eye shoot down to our intertwined fingers and I feel him squeeze my hand ever so slightly. “I thought you’d be prepared for anything.” I taunt tilting my face slightly towards the hand touching my face and gently nibble at the thumb of his glove. His gaze immediately shoots back to mine. He leans forward and traces his thumb over my lip staring at my mouth the entire time. He takes control of our intertwined hands and raises my arm up slightly until it’s next to my head before pressing down and pinning me. I smile up at him and I feel the gentlest press of his hips against mine, I gasp at the feeling of him, solid and monstrous against my hot core. “Please Tobi more.” I beg. Grinding my hips back against him to try and ease my own growing excitement. Fortunately thats all the encouragement he needs. Removing the hand from my face he leans forward to rest his weight on his elbow and entangle his fingers in my hair peering down at me the entire time he begins to grind against me with confidence. His pace is a little unsteady but the friction between our clothed bodies is breath taking. Wetness pools in my panties and my eyes flutter shut from the pleasure

“Look at me.” My eyes fly open to see Tobis piercing red stare hypnotize me. Is his eye…swirling? An untamed mewling rips from my throat unexpectedly when his clothed erection grinds deliciously against my clit. “A-ah! Keep doing that please!” I Yelp tossing my head to the side. Separating out intertwined fingers Tobi brings his hand to the back of my thigh behind me knee in a grip clearly meant to keep me in place as I begin with to squirm from the intensity . He presses his masked face into the crook of my neck and I hear him take a deep sniff of my hair. “So pretty and perfect just for me.” Has Tobi always been this powerful? He seemed almost nervous a few minutes ago when I initiated this but the man above me has completely taken charge! Caging me underneath him and radiating carnal desire. Even his voice sounds different!

“Oh am I interrupting?” My entire being is eclipsed with rage at the sound of zetsus voice. Snapping my head over to the source of the sound my glare is venemous once I see zetsu in the corner of the room. Just his head and shoulders peaking out from the floor. “Yes! Go awa-“

“Oh nope! Just a little friendly student, sensei role play!” Tobis interrupts me in his typical loud mannerisms as he quickly pulls away from my and begins to rise to his feet. “Tobi! I-“ he continues to interrupt me as he yanks me to my feet and pulls me towards the door before pushing me out of his room. I turn to face him wide eyed and confused. “Oooooh Im sorry, dont be upset! I was having so much fun with our lesson but we’ll have yo finish it later!” He quickly boops my nose with his index finger and pulls back into his room shutting the door and then I’m alone. I’m standing alone in the hallway staring at his door.

I’m gonna kill zetsu.

#Tobi #naruto obito #tobi naruto #yandere #obito x reader #tobi x reader #yandere akatsuki #zetsu #tobi akatsuki #Tobi fanfic #yandere obito #lime #lime fic

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