#i think he does that man is tired of chewing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bougiebutchbinch · 8 hours

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God I'm such a sucker for dom/sub edizzy where Ed enjoys domming because he gets to come up with endless fun 'fuckeries' (or.... scenes), and Izzy enjoys subbing because he's fucking gaga for Ed in all his Whacky Weirdness (affectionate), and god DAMN, this stressed-out little chihuahua-man needs to turn his mind off and just exist.

But it gets stale, eventually.

Ed is the flavour of neurodivergent that needs endless variety, whereas Izzy is the flavour of neurodivergent where everything needs to be the same forever, please, or I will have a nervous breakdown. Plus, neither of them have any idea how to manage each other's emotional needs!

Ed topdrops HARD. He requires a lot more aftercare than Izzy, but Izzy is kinda awkward and embarrassed about giving it, and is definitely awkward and embarrassed about needing it himself.

It's like, the 1700s. Neither of them have read 'the new bottoming/topping book'.

So, obviously, things crumble.

To the point where one time, they're setting up a scene, just going through The Familiar Motions (which to Izzy are such a source of comfort, and to Ed a source of growing torment) when Ed reaches his emotional broiling point. He crumples to the floor in tears, tugging at his hair, tearfully confessing to Izzy that he can't do this, he can't, he can't -

Cue Izzy panicking, tied to the bed, halfway to subspace already, now jolted out of it and adrift in a tidal wave of brain chemicals, his only thought what the fuck did I do wrong? Is it me? Is he tired of me?

(because deep down, he's been afraid of that for some time)

But his captain obviously needs something. And Izzy's gonna try his best to give it.

He's tied up to all four bed posts. He can't move, can't fucking get to Ed to stroke his hair and kiss him and do all that other soft shit he should hate a whole lot more than he does. But he can flop back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Coralling his spiralling thoughts.

He has to hold it together, for his captain. Has to do this, for him.

"C'mere, Eddie," he says, but his voice is all broken and scratchy and weak, so he clears his throat, tries again. "Eddie. Here."

And Eddie, snivelling, underlip trembling, comes. All dressed up in his leathers, beard big, shoulders broad, looking the very part of Blackbeard. Except for his tear-filled brown eyes - which are looking at Izzy so fucking warily, like Ed expects him to give him a fucking scolding.

And - yeah, maybe if this had been in the middle of a firefight, Izzy would've. But it's not. it's just the two of them, together, and right now, hurting Eddie is the furthest thing from his mind.

"What d'you need?" he asks, all gruff. Tugging at the ropes, rough hemp chewing on the tender insides of his wrists.

Ed gives a petulant little shrug. Fucker. Izzy's not a mind reader; he can't just intuit...

But... maybe he can. Ed's shoulders are shrunken, his spine stooped. He looks like a wet fucking cat. Pathetic. Useless. All the things the great Blackbeard should never be.

But Blackbeard is a myth. Eddie's a man. And Izzy knows better than most, how men can act as one thing and deep down, be another.

He thinks of the moments when he feels so fucking small and useless and broken. How Ed makes him feel good... And, glancing at the persistent bulge in Eddie's tight leather pants - how neither of them have said the word they agreed on, that'd bring this whole farce to a close - Izzy knows just what to do.

He licks his dry lips. Either this works, or Blackbeard snaps and kills him. Luckily, Izzy's always liked the thought of dying at his captain's hand.

"Wanna be mine tonight, Eddie?" he asks.

Ed's eyes go wide. Then narrow. Whole fucking face journey, mashed into a couple seconds: surprise, anger, fear, relief. Izzy waits patiently for him to settle, gripping the ropes that hold him spread-eagled for his captain's attention. Heart fluttering in his chest like he's staring down an oncoming enemy battalion: outgunned, outmanned, but still hungry for the fight.

"C'mon then," he says, nodding to where, despite it all, he's still half-erect too, bare cock plump against his scarred thigh. "Up here, there's a good b-boy."

His voice almost breaks on the last word, every instinct screaming at him not to demean his captain in the way he likes to be demeaned. Ed's so much better than him, brighter and sharper and fucking brilliant; he's not so weak as to need this. Or at least, he shouldn't be. Right?

But it's hard to focus on that when Ed crawls over him, danger in every movement, sleek and lithe as a jaguar. Fucking beautiful.

Then he ducks his head to bury in Izzy's neck, over his swallow tattoo, and nods.

"Good boy, telling daddy what you want," Izzy whispers into his hair - the same words Ed was supposed to say to him, when all this was over. He feels his captain sigh against his swallow and go deliciously slack.

It ain't what Izzy likes, as a rule, but for Ed... for Ed, he'll do damn near anything.

...Then Izzy gives Ed a healing dommy sloppytoppy, all while still tied to the bed, Ed crying while he rides him into the mattress. They hug after and hold each other, but not for nearly as long as they should. And everything hurts like an infected wound, but they can't stop picking at this thing they call a relationship until it scars.

#ofmd #ed teach #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd izzy #edizzy #blackhands #ed babygirl teach #ed teach born on a beach

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viovio · 2 years

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thinkin about cooking. specifically human meat

#how far would vincent consider having to adjust to eating it before the dehumanization kicks him in the balls #well the chamber fucked him up a lot on that and i read somewhere that the voiceline in scary human heads #i love my martinis and cant live without them ←already know from the stage art and potg4 that its dracos recipe #pigsblood martini. plus an eyeball so they said he puts human remains in it #i mean myers did say they had to eat but consuming it works as well id imagine! its rly interesting #i wonder how vincent would think about eating the meat if it was cooked and prepared like usual food #thinking of making a comic just of draco prepping and cooking dinuguan while the wiki excerpt is the text over a few panels #its not animalistic compared to say. eating cold bloody scraps your captors throw at you for survival #god. godddd #also a butlers place at the table is they probably let him eat with them right. right?#victorrr also i hc they eat the same meals at least. whether or not vincent sticks to drinks #i think he does that man is tired of chewing #like even with sectioned off different meats for the same meal itd be just like a different food diet for one person #y'know?#i am simply fascinated. not confident or good in my writing but draco makes dinuguan is a drabble in my notes

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hauntingblue · 2 months

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Little sister spoiling katakuri's fun who woulda thot

#getting real tired of the donuts man #why does the reporter bird man want the strawhats to win over mom... for a news headline??#a best little sister contest?? ajdhakqa #nami getting zeus andjskdnsksk #the animals just watching rayleigh hit luffy akdhsksj #omg chopper got slashed #THE FUCKING CAKE!!! FINALLY!!!#talking tag #watching one piece #episode 865 #sanji doing his shit and nami and jinbe wondering what is that strange energy comong from bege's ship akdhaks #oh noooo chiffon giving pudding hope with sanji.... girl... did you see how he just danced for nami ajdhsksj #sanji getting a nami hug... undeserved if he didn't poison the cake.... look at everything shes gone thru #episode 866 #what is the chewing gum girl doing there... just to make it more difficult for luffy to beat katakuri now that he even has the possibility #to win #omg WHAT was THAT #GIRL!!!!!!! THIS IS A DUEL!!! HAVE SIME RESPECT #the doffy theme (i think thats the first time it appeared) its being misused sooo much.... its playing now when they are just talking about #being in danger.....#jesus christ luffy....#now katakuri is getting mad bc luffy is getting sloppy (not his fault)#but the music with the katakuri fight is so good.....#oh jesus luffy...... another teeth out.... even katakuri is getting worried #wait a second... the guitar....#true love is changing bege....#they are taking the tamato box explosion as something intentional akdjsksjkq #throw the mirror into the sea and then get it back lmao???#oh he was starting to admire him..... well stay disappointed but blame your sister lmao damn the blood #episode 867

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soobnny · 11 months

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one more month — bang chan. established relationship. fluff. chan missing you while he’s on tour. (0.6k words)

“Chan?”

It’s 11pm for you when he calls from his hotel room, somewhere oceans away. There’s still sleep dripping from your tone, and he can almost hear the rustling of sheets from your end.

“Sorry baby, did I wake you?” Chan speaks so quietly it’s almost a whisper. He was careful not to shake you out of your silence.

“Mmm, no.” You croak out.

He knows you’re lying, could almost picture you jolting from your sleep at the familiar buzz of your ringtone. The thought makes him swallow, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

“Is there a reason why you’re calling?”

He pauses before answering. Chan has no idea how the fuck he’s feeling right now, but he knows he misses you.

It’s been 4 months since he last saw you. All he has are pictures of you in his phone, and occasional phone calls that will never suffice to the way you sound in person. To the way you feel in person.

Chan stares out the big fucking window from where they’re staying, finding comfort in the thought that you might be looking at the same moon.

He swallows again. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“Of course not.”

“Just miss you.” He breathes out slowly, head tilted on the glass windows. “And I wish— we didn’t have to be so far away all the time.”

He’s thinking of you, imagining how you look right now with tired eyes. He’s thinking of what it would be like if he was there right now. You’d probably be asleep, tangled up in each other’s limbs. It would look uncomfortable from an outsider’s eye, but he knows. Knows how it feels to have your heartbeat pressed against his and how nice it feels.

You sigh. “One more month.”

The tone in your voice is gentle, yet knowing. He knows you miss him too.

“For now, you need to sleep, no?”

It’s 3 in the morning for him, and he’ll have to be awake again in three hours.

“Can’t.” He bites his lip, swallowing hard as he tries to fight the sob brewing in his throat. Your heart clenches at the way he sounds, knows that when he feels, he lets it take over him.

“Will you be able to sleep if I stay on the phone?”

“Maybe.” Shaky.

“Okay. Have the kids been treating you well?”

A smile pulls at his lips at the mention of his best friends, and the topic change does a good job at masking the nauseating pain of missing you. A bandaid. A temporary fix.

“Still loud and stubborn, but I wouldn’t want them any other way.”

“Hmmm, I won’t be surprised if you come home with a head of white hair.”

He laughs at the thought, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m already starting.”

“Then Seungmin calling you an old man is justifiable, then?”

“I don’t think I like you teaming up with the boys against me. You’ve signed up on my team the moment you said yes to being mine.”

You laugh from your end, and Chan’s heart flutters at the sound. He can almost see you with your crescent eyes and the cute scrunch on your nose, the one you do when you cackle.

He tries not to think about it too much. Tries not to picture himself right there with you. He knows it’d only rip the bandaid he’d desperately plastered on himself.

“Not sleepy yet?”

“Just a little.” He admits quietly, a yawn escaping his mouth.

There’s stifling from his end, and you can only assume he’s slipped himself back into the covers of his bed.

You keep telling him stories, no matter how menial, anything to keep him company. You know he just needs to hear your voice, has told you before how simply hearing you comforts him—it’s a calm only you can offer.

Chan breathes in and out slowly.

It’s four in the morning now, and there’s quiet snoring in the background.

“Goodnight Channie. One more month.”

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k4vehrtz · 4 months

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⸻ YOURS, MINES, OURS

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. / m! reader

warnings — mentions of blood due to a minor injury, soft -> mean -> soft dom! nanamin, cucking ergo exhibition bc kuna def wants to fuck you, possessive! nanami, crybaby! vessel! reader, use and variations of the word slut, established dom/sub dynamic, hole inspection, light masochism, dacryphilia, shower sex, minor daddy / sir k., implied age gap n zero prep . ✦ . wc — 1.5k . ✦ . notes — less of a fic more of a lengthy thirst bc i'm still sick but i really wanted to deliver somethin for you guys so forgive me this once 💔 happy holidays 🎄

it’s 6:15 p.m. when nanami wanders into your garden, still clad in his work attire. the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie hanging loosely around his collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. he’s somewhere in between tired and exhausted; dark circles rimming his almost sunken eyes but he’s not quite ready to pass out yet. he won’t give in to the heaviness of his eyes until he sees you.

and he does see you — you’re crouched in a corner, knees buried in a miniature mountain of soil, completely and utterly enthralled by the flowers in front of you.

orchids. a dark pink in the centre, although their petals are a light pink that fades into a pink-stained white colour. they vary in intensity but altogether, they’re beautiful and pink.

“they’re resilient little things, aren’t they?” he muses, his voice thick with drowsiness. which catches you entirely off-guard and has you flinching away, scraping the palm of your hand on a nearby rose bush in the process.

you wince, brows pulled together and lips jutting forward in a pout. nanami feels his heart drop, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach instantaneously.

“fuck,” he curses, a rough edge to his voice, “i’m sorry my love,” as he crouches beside you, cradling your injured hand in his much bigger, warmer palms. it’s not nearly as bad as it seemed at first; a singular scrape stretching across the expanse of your palm. but nanami does his due diligence, wiping away what little blood had appeared with his handkerchief.

“i should’ve made my—” he stops himself mid-sentence and lowers his gaze, arching a brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. “…presence known” he continues, staring pointedly at the tent in your shorts.

warmth creeps up your throat, spreading across the bridge of your nose to either cheek and the tips of your ears as you promptly cross your legs. to which nanami presses his lips together, blowing air through his nostrils.

“that — ” he starts, grimacing, “that must be uncomfortable,” as he takes a seat on the dirt floor of the greenhouse and pulls you into his lap. and you open your mouth to protest against it; he’s going to ruin his favourite slacks. but he presses a long, thick finger to your lips before you can get a word out.

he clicks his tongue, his tone morphing from the saccharine sweetness that you’re used to. nanami isn’t, by any means, harsh with you but his near-silent disapproval is enough to have you curling into yourself.

“i’m sorry,” the words tumble past your glossy lips before you even process them. and nanami responds immediately: “i’m sorry who?” his voice becomes more and more like a rumble as tiredness continues to pull at his sore muscles. but you humour him anyway, “i’m sorry sir,” which earns you a much more content-sounding rumble from the elder man.

“that’s my boy — now let’s get you taken care of inside where it’s warmer.”

skin–to–skin; nanami’s pressed firmly against you and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. cold fingers instinctively go to the curves and contours of his muscled torso; tracing the outline of it all while you chew on your lower lip. it’s hard to tell who’s more enamoured by the other but if you had to think about it (like really hard) you’d say nanami is.

“what are you thinking so hard about silly boy?”

your nose crinkles and a muscle in nanami’s jaw twitches at the sound of the third voice. it’s nothing like the silky-smooth voice that makes your heart flip-flop in your chest. but it has its appeal and is welcomed nevertheless.

“‘kuna i’m not —” you try but he interjects: “liar.” and you have half the mind to argue with him but nanami clears his throat, thick finger curling beneath your chin so that you’re made to meet his gaze.

he’s staring down at you, warm water from the shower overhead dripping from the edges of his hair. his gaze intent as he pushes you against the cold tiles on the wall. there’s a stark contrast between the two temperatures; one that makes goosebumps appear on your skin and provides a twisted sense of pleasure. but that too is welcomed.

“none of that,” and he clicks his tongue again, his distaste for the mouth that had appeared on the back of your palm as clear as day. sukuna, though, grits his teeth and you can’t help but think to yourself that the only thing they have in common is their distaste for each other.

“your blind devotion to a man who could never satiate you is beyond my comprehension,” sukuna smirks, “a slut like you needs a real man to fuck them right.”

a slut.

an onslaught of tears blurs your vision and nanami leans in, warm breath fanning your face. then he sucks in another breath, taking in the floral scent of your shampoo, before exhaling slowly. “did you hear that baby? ‘kuna thinks you’re a slut.” he whispers, emphasizing the nickname in the most condescending way he could. and you nod quietly, obediently in response. staring up at him with those big, innocent eyes of yours that looks the prettiest when it’s wet with unshed tears.

“i know my boy’s got a greedy hole on him,” he continues matter–of–factly, “i mean look at his cock, started leaking back in the greenhouse ‘cause of my voice and now it’s fully hard because you called him a slut.” completely unbothered by the quiet whimper you let out.

and silence — sukuna doesn’t say anything, lips pulled into a tight line. but this does little to discourage nanami who spins you around so that you’re pressed against the tiles, sensitive pecs to glazed clay and your back to him. then he’s pulling your legs apart, spreading your cheeks so that your winking hole is exposed to him.

“in fact, let’s both look at this slutty hole that i fill with my cum as often as i like because, if i recall correctly, you’re resigned to watching.”

quiet whimpers that bounce off of the tiles turn into sultry mewls. he’s being so mean, his voice dropping by an octave or two, and it makes your cock throb. he’s crouching behind you so that he’s at eye–level with your hole and you can’t help but gasp when a thick finger is pressed against it. then he pushes it in, it’s dry and it burns but it’s (like everything else) welcomed without complaint.

“do you see that?” nanami asks, it’s a rhetorical question and even then, not directed at you whatsoever but you find yourself nodding along to whatever he says anyway. “the way it winks at me? that’s because it missed me and the way that it stretches and clenches around me? that’s because i’m the only one who can touch him like this.”

sultry mewls turn into pornographic sobs. the way that he describes everything has your stomach in knots. it’s no longer a want but rather a need. you need him inside of you but he’s taught you better than this — you need to use your words to get what you want.

so, you do, voice breathy as you try to form words in between needy cries. salty tears trickling down your warm cheeks as you string a sentence together. “i need you,” you croak, glancing over your shoulder at him, lips quivering.

and he coos at the sight of you, removing his finger before standing upright and cupping your cheeks. “that’s right, look at daddy, only i can make you feel better, hm?” to which you nod in response and his smile widens, “where do you need me, my love? show daddy.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you nod again — immediately spreading yourself wide open with your fingers. presenting yourself like this to him, tears and all, is second nature to you. it comes naturally which he thoroughly enjoys.

and nanami groans at the sight of your hole as if it’s his first time seeing you like this and within seconds, he’s aligning the angry tip with your entrance. he brings his lips to your ears, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending warmth to your crotch. “it’s going to hurt a little,” he warns, leaning forward to press gentle kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes himself inside.

he was right, it does hurt. it hurts like a bitch and it takes some time for you to adjust. nanami’s just so big; he makes you feel so full. but after he bottoms out and slowly finds his rhythm you know you’re a goner. pain and pleasure — you don’t know where one ends and the other begins but it feels good nevertheless.

you’re content babbling as he pistons his hips, balls colliding with the curve of your ass every time he thrusts into you. it’s all you need and all it takes for your cock to begin spurting ropes of cum as he assaults your prostate.

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #nanami x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #nanami kento #nanami smut

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dwindlinghaze · 10 months

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helloo can i request a fic for introvert!reader with extrovert!remus lupin whos head over heels for her <3

yes u can darlin <3 🫧🫧 i sort of wrote this into a whole new story but i hope you like this one ☁️🌸🩷🤍

everytime

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fem reader, toxic friendships, kissing, fluff !! not proofread

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the door slammed open, revealing three young witches with their hands full of shopping bags. you knew they were going to hogsmeade together, but a part of you wished they had invited you.

they're your roomates and friends.

you couldn't go as far as calling them your true friends because they don't involve you much in their group activities.

they go on picnics together, shopping for pretty dresses in hogsmeade, having brunch dates, going to the movies.

a part of you wished you're there, being together with them and just fitting in. but the other part of you were thankful as for they're not inviting you because you would feel left out anyways.

it was better to be left out, and only you know it, rather than being left out with other people knowing.

maybe it wasn't their fault. elina is pretty, smart, bright and outgoing. adrienne is cheerful, energetic, and sociable. cassie is ambitious, intelligent, and talkative. you laughed bitterly to yourself, realising that they all have similar traits- all really easy to talk to and would always have an on going conversation.

you couldn't even hold a conversation for more than four minutes. it feels like your fault now.

you sit alone the morning after. you usually sit with your 'friends' for breakfast, but you were hurt from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. it was tiring, you needed break.

which caught the attention of a young gryffindor boy, sitting at the opposite end of the table.

remus lupin always thought you're the most beautiful person he ever saw. you two never talked, there's no reason to.

only his longing stares are the closest thing to interaction.

he thought you're beautiful. not the kind of beauty in magazines or billboards, but the kind of beauty that spreads through a field of mystical flowers. a kind that shines golden in daylight and a night fairy at late.

he saw the way you chew on your breakfast gloomily. he wondered why. you weren't spotted with your usual friends. you were just there. alone.

you would think of yourself as pathetic, but remus doesn't. he would never. he saw an angel-like soul that nobody's good enough to know. nobody's smart enough to notice.

he frowned when he saw you wiping away a tear before you got up, exiting the packed hall.

"frowning moony is not a safe moony," james said, quirking his eyebrows up.

"it's y/n, isn't it?" sirius questioned. the handsome man noticed how remus has been distracted from reality lately. he noticed how remus basically looks at you with heart eyes everytime.

"she looks sad today," remus noted, feeling an overwhelming sense of worry flooding him. it was funny to think about actually, you two never spoke a word to each other yet remus is worrying as if you're his.

"talk to her," james urged. "it's been- what was it? years of pining, you should make a move first because we all know she won't."

"i can't- y'know, my condition," remus huffed.

"she won't mind."

"how'd you know?"

"because- she is her...?" sirius said. "give it a try moony, if she doesn't love you with your condition then she doesn't deserve you, but if she does, it's worth it."

"right..."

that evening you sat down staring at an open window, catching your breath. you had been crying. you don't know why you're being so sensitive lately especially since your friends are always like this. why are you taking it so personal now?

you let the wind hit your face, drying your tears up with the cold breeze.

remus was on his nightly patrol around the castle. he's a prefect. that's how he heard a sniffle down the hall, his vision met with the most enchanting sight.

he walked slowly towards you, not wanting to scare. "hey... you alright?"

you turned around abruptly, wiping away the tears on your eyelashes. "i'm sorry for being out late."

"i'm not going to report you to professor mcgonagal, are you alright?" he asked once more.

"yeah, i'll be heading back to my dorm now," you collected yourself. the quiet footsteps didn't go unheard by you. remus was following you to the dorms.

"don't want filch to get you, i'll walk you there," he smiled a generous smile.

then silence fell between the two of you, only for remus to break it. "i know we're not friends but you can talk to me about it if you want, you can trust me," remus took hold of your upper arm, caressing it gently.

"thanks," was the only reply. you cringed at how short it sounded and he probably thinks you're rude and cold which is the opposite of who you are. your words aren't the best representation of yourself.

remus knew you were an introvert, hiding away from crowded rooms whenever you can. you never go to the parties his friends held. he knew you prefer reading to revelling.

he understands, he was once just like you. but with the help and support of his friends, he feels more comfortable in expressing himself now.

"will i see you tomorrow?" remus asked once you were inside the gryffindor common room.

"yeah, thank you- for not turning me in," you sent him an awkward smile.

the next day, you weren't in a better state either. you found out that cassie was talking horrible things about you with some slytherins. you weren't surprised. it was just your nature to constantly be disrespected by them.

remus saw you again that very day. your eyes were watery and your fingers were shaking.

he quickly ran up to you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. how dare someone did this to you?

"honey, you okay?" remus said, looking at you with the fondest eyes.

you almost cried again, hearing how someone actually asked you if you were okay. you shook your head in response.

"talk to me, we're friends," remus said softly. in reality, you two aren't technically friends. you only met face to face twice.

"we're friends?" you asked, feeling unsure.

"we are. from now on. now tell me who did this to you?"

"oh remus i can't," you shook your head.

"okay... but you can talk to me about anything okay? it doesn't have to be important. that's what friends are for," he smiled.

and oh when you smiled back, was like heaven to him. you looked like an ethereal angel with that divine smile and that archangelic face. he might as well fall in love right then and there.

the sparkles in your eyes that hold such loneliness and hope is what he calls beauty. the way you smiles even when you're sad just to assure him that you will be okay is heart warming. to him you weren't just beautiful for something as temporary as your face. you're beauty hides beneath that broken heart of yours, that delicate soul you have.

you opened up after a while, you feel you can trust remus. he is a calm and caring person. the way he asks 'how are you' every morning since. he wrapped his arm around your shoulder because he doesn't want to lose you in the sea of students. he cuts your breakfast so you can eat them easier. he reads to you softly when you cried again because of your friends.

he didn't know how much this has helped you to be okay again. how much you adored him for everything he does, even the questionable ones. you didn't care.

"rem, want to talk to you," you spoke, breaking his gaze from his book.

"i'm all ears, darling," he replied.

"you wanna know why i keep on crying?," you sniffed, ready to open up for the first time. "it's because- cause cassie, elina, and adrienne. they keep saying bad things about me- that you probably heard already. i used to always think we're friends, maybe not the kind like- you and me. but just friends... i guess. they keep leaving me out. it's like they don't even want me there." you were wiping tears away now, feeling unsure of yourself.

you never spoke of your feelings like this. never to anyone. how can remus made it so easy for you to be transparent to him?

"oh angel, they don't deserve you. they're too full of themselves to see how worthy you are. i think- i think you're the perfect just how you are. forget about them yeah? we will start a new beginning. you can come and sit with me from now on. no need to care about them. i will never make you sad, promise."

he pulled you to his chest, embracing you in a warm hug.

he made a promise to himself that every week, he will give you gifts and such to remind you how important you are. how much he loves and cares about you.

he couldn't let you waste your tears for your past friendship. remus treats you like a princess. he wants to make you smile. seeing you happy is what matters most because a dream girl should live in a dreamworld. and he made it a mission to make a perfect world for you.

he remembered you saying how those girls never invited you to picnics so here he is, inviting you to join the picnic he has set just for you and him.

"oh rem, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done!" you sighed, sitting yourself down on the carpet.

"it's nothing! you deserve it," he smiled proudly, pouring you and himself a cup of chamomile tea. your favourite.

there's something sparkling in your wrist. the shine of it glimmering under the perfect weather. you were wearing a bracelet remus gave to you a few days ago. a pretty silver chain with a moon and angel wings intertwined together.

when he first saw the jewelery on the display, it immediately reminded him of you so he just had to buy two of them. a matching bracelet.

god, nobody has ever even given you a friendship bracelet before.

he saw you, picking up the fresh strawberries with your delicate hands. 'what a dreamy girl' he thought 'and to have an angel like her to call my own'

he wanted to kiss you right there. everything was perfect at the moment. the soft honey rays of the sunshine warms the air surrounding the two of you, there's no reason for remus to scoot over closer to your figure. but he did anyways.

"i like a girl, no i actually love her," he started.

your heart sank, you thought maybe-just maybe remus is the one. he pulled you right out of misery in the best way.

remus saw your crestfallen expression, though he continued, "she makes my heart jump. she's the girl i've been in love with for a long time, i wanna go wherever she goes."

you forced a smile at him, munching on your strawberry that suddenly turned sour.

"she gets sad often, but that doesn't stop her from taking care of the people around her, and herself. she's smart and wise. she inspires me actually. everytime we say goodnight, i go to bed and sleep happily. dreaming of happy thoughts because when she's around, there's no negativity."

"i love her- y/n," he said, hinting at the way he emphasised your name.

"can i know who she is?" you asked shyly.

"can you guess?"

"i don't know..."

"well, i see her everytime," remus said, a smile playing on his lips.

"you see a lot of people everyday," you replied.

"i said everytime not everyday," he chuckled.

"that's not possible!"

"it is actually. i could never get tired of her. anyone is crazy if they do," he shook his head. "okay.. she smells like the most cosiest bakery in town."

"i don't think i know anyone that smells like a bakery."

"of course you don't, darling," remus said, cupping your cheeks. "'cause it's you. i'm in love with you,"

"wha- me?" you knitted your brows. he caressed them away.

"yes you, it's obvious actually. i thought you knew," remus chucked. "i don't have matching bracelets with anyone else, i never go on picnics, i never crochet someone a sweater before, i could go on but i want to hear what you have to say."

"i love you too, it's inevitable," you said, rubbing your cheeks further on his palms.

"can i kiss you?" he asked. he always considered himself a gentleman and he will be the most gentlemanly when it comes to you.

you responded with a soft nod, then he pressed his lips against yours. slowly but surely, he felt you melting in the kiss and god does that feel way more magical than the daydreams he had about this. his tongue manoeuvred its way inside your mouth, meeting yours in a soft touch that sent shivers down your spine. he loves the way you taste, licking the remnants of strawberry juice in your mouth.

he placed his hand on the back of your head while the other wrapped itself around waist, making you impossibly closer to him.

you didn't know how long that lasted but when you pulled away, the both of your cheeks were bright red and the smiles couldn't be wiped away.

#remus lupin x reader #character x you #x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff

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chaithetics · 22 days

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Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

************************************************************************

It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in.

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out.

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him.

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head.

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway.

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still.

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient.

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand.

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit.

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly. He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch.

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug.

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him.

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question.

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response.

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much.

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other.

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club.

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours.

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it.

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle.

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone.

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

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ragingbookdragon · 8 months

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Post-mission is always a little rough on Simon. It’s getting back to some semblance of normalcy by sleeping and eating like he didn’t just technically commit a few war crimes. And her, God, if it weren’t for her, Simon doesn’t know where he’d be. Probably still alive, but deadened inside more so than he already thinks himself to be—he’d most likely be an even more hollow specter of a man. She helps, the best she can. Simon doesn’t tell her about the missions (for security purposes as much as it is her mentality), and she doesn’t ask too many questions other than, “Any injuries?” and “Kick some ass?”

He awakens to sunlight, a quiet bedroom, and a digital clock beside him that reads seven-thirty. Simon wonders if there’s something stronger than just chamomile in that tea she makes him drink at night when he isn’t tired, but he feels better than he has in months, so he isn’t complaining.

It does take him a few moments to actually find the desire to move, too warm, too comfortable. Her side of the bed is cool, but the scent of her remains and he rolls over, buries his face in her pillow, and inhales. Simon’s never really understood how shock blankets are supposed to ease someone’s fear, but he does know how the waves of calm seem to roll over him, like he’s laying on the bottom of the ocean, watching the waves as they crash over him, but it’s anything but choppy and rough. Smooth, gentle, loving.

His back aches as bad as his knees do when he finally gets up, but he stretches, pops his bones and joints before slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt, hood over his head as he pads into the hallway and listens. It’s a moment before he hears her humming from the kitchen and he follows the sweet sound of her soft voice, leaning against the doorway as he watches her.

Simon likes BLT’s and tomato bisque soup when he comes back from missions. It’s a special dinner she usually makes him, enough that he can have seconds and lunch for the day after, and she sings to herself as she spoons a hearty serving into the bowl on the tray before placing the freshly pressed sandwich on the plate with “Oo oo ah” as she blows on her fingers from the heat. There’s a fresh cup of tea and one of his water bottles with those electrolyte powders in it he loves. Even a fresh flower in a single vase.

A picture-perfect lunch and her smile drops like a sack of bricks, replaced with shock when she turns and sees Simon smiling softly at her from the doorway.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” she whispers, as if he’s not there. “You’re not in bed.”

He nods. “Your observation skills are stellar, love. Perhaps you actually are learning something.”

Her lids drop in a deadpan stare as she sets the tray back on the counter and points to it, “I made you food, asshat.”

Simon walks over and practically shoves half of the sandwich in his mouth and she merely sighs. “Fhank fou,” he says with his mouth full and normally, she’d make a comment on him chewing and talking with food in his mouth, but he looks at peace and that peace drifts to her as she reaches up, wipes the corner of his mouth as he swallows.

“You’re welcome, Simon.” Her fingers drift to his cheek and she thumbs his cheekbone. “My handsome Ghost.”

His larger hand covers hers and he hums. “No Ghost here, only me.” He gazes into her eyes. “Only Simon.”

Her eyes crinkle around the edges and she steps on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose to his as she whispers, “My handsome Simon. All mine. Always mine.”

“Always yours, love,” he murmurs back to her, hand still holding hers; he feels safe. “Forever.”

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suashii · 3 months

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— 𝒽𝑒𝓎, 𝓃𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝒷𝑜𝓇 ౨ৎ

after learning that you live in the same building, you stop by xavier's place after a long day at work.

xavier x reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ neighbors to lovers-ish ﾉ food

thoughts race through your head as your knuckles come in contact with xavier’s apartment door.

is showing up here weird? is he even at home right now? if he is, what if he doesn’t want company?

you chew your lip as the questions aimlessly bounce around your skull. despite not having many items in it, the plastic bag hanging at your side suddenly feels heavy in your grasp. you’re starting to think the loneliness you’ve felt the past few days is dictating your actions, that your heart is leading over your head.

you briefly contemplate abandoning your impromptu plan and going downstairs to your floor to have dinner alone like you have been. your foot makes a move to turn on its heel, but the click of the door opening and the sliver of light spilling into the hall from the gap stops you in your tracks.

even though you had hoped he’d be home, you find that your lips part in surprise upon catching a glimpse of xavier. he brings the heel of his palm up to rub at one of his eyes, the other squinted as if the light is too bright for him to handle. the ash blonde hair atop his head is disheveled and despite how unkempt he looks, it appears as though he’s still wearing the clothes he had put on this morning.

“sorry,” you keep your voice down, “did i wake you up?”

“it’s fine.” he waves his hand in dismissal and yawns. “i fell asleep on the couch.”

peeking behind him, you see that one of the throw pillows he keeps on the furniture has fallen to the floor along with a book he must have been reading before dozing off.

the mental image you create of him hanging off the edge sound asleep makes the corner of your lips twitch in a smile but, at the same time, knowing that he’s tired almost makes you feel guilty asking about having dinner with him.

though, before you can even pose the question, xavier’s blue eyes flit down to the bag in your hand. “what’s that?”

you look down as if you’d forgotten why you’d stopped by. “oh, i bought ramen. you want some?”

the mention of food seems to wake xavier up a bit, the drowsiness in his eyes fading as he lightly nods and steps aside to allow you in. you do so, slipping out of your shoes and into the pair of slippers the man gestures towards. they soften each of your steps as you make your way to the kitchen.

setting the bag on the table, you pull each item out one by one—two things of cup noodles, a bag of share-size chips (the fried chicken flavor), and two bottles of tea. you can barely consider it a dinner but xavier says nothing about it, turning to heat up water in the kettle upon seeing that you brought instant ramen. it warms quickly and as the noodles cook, the two of you sit on opposite sides of the table, pulling your wooden chopsticks apart to get ready for the meal.

when the timer you set for three minutes goes off, alerting you that the ramen is done, xavier wastes no time dragging his cup towards him and picking up a large bite. the noodles hang from his lips as his cheeks puff out, broth dripping down into the cup as he slurps them into his mouth. you watch with a growing smile and only speak once he’s swallowed the massive mouthful. “hungry?”

“mm,” he hums with a short nod as he digs back in for another bite. “i didn’t eat before i fell asleep.”

the fact doesn’t surprise you but instead of lecturing him, you eat your meal too. the idle chatter you two share ranges from about what he had been reading earlier to plans for the upcoming weekend. each topic holds little relevance but simply talking to him quells the loneliness that brought you here.

as you clean up, you wonder if he’d mind doing this more often.

“thanks for eating with me,” you tell him, slowly starting on the way to the door.

xavier hesitates before he says anything and scratches at his neck before he finally does. “you don’t have to leave yet. we can… watch a movie or something.”

you stifle a giggle at how awkwardly he proposes the idea. you can’t help but mess with him a little. “oh, so you can fall asleep and i have to finish the movie on my own?”

the man tries to hold back a pout at your teasing but it peeks through in the way that his lip slightly pokes out. as much as he wants to, xavier can’t deny the possibility, so he stays quiet.

your teasing is lighthearted but the more you think over his invitation, the more you start to think that maybe, just maybe, xavier’s in need of some companionship just like you. the carefree way he approaches life never made you consider it before now, but maybe he’s lonelier than he let’s on. it’s no more than a silly hypothesis on your part but still, you clear your throat to rid your voice of its jovial tone.

“i’m only joking,” you reassure him with a small smile. your feet carry you to the couch and you plop down on the far end, the one opposite of the mess he left behind earlier. you look over your shoulder to see xavier standing in the same spot. raising your eyebrows, you ask, “does the offer still stand?”

he seems almost surprised that you’re sticking around but he only lingers for a moment before rounding the piece of furniture to join you. he picks up the book and pillow, quickly cleaning them up. with the clutter handled, he turns on the tv and looks to you with a question. “what do you want to watch?”

“you pick. i’m curious to see what kind of movies you’re into.”

“sure.” he turns his attention back to the screen ahead of him and you do the same to watch his selection process. you don’t expect him to add on, “but no more making fun of me.”

your head quickly swivels to see if xavier’s serious, to see if you actually touched a nerve earlier. and while his eyes are still glued to the tv, you don’t miss the way his lips curl up in a jesting smile.

you laugh and tell him, “no promises.”

you could get used to nights like these.

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

#xavier x reader #xavier x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #xavier drabble #love and deepspace drabble #xavier fluff #love and deepspace fluff #lads x reader #lads x you

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scatterbrainedbot · 5 months

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I AM SPINNING I AM PACING I AM FULL ON FROLICKING IM SO EXCITED

@d1sc0rd1a THANK U FOR THESE TAGS

okayokayokayokay so pretty much all of these questions will be Officially Answered properly in the character design/intro pages im working on but also i am physically vibrating with excitement about the fact that you noticed all these details and i have very little self control so! lore dump time!!!

(minor tw for mentions of leos self-harm/self-destructive anxious behaviors and unhealthy coping skills)

- mikey does indeed have curly fur! i believe he would be considered a 'rex' rat (pictured on the left) for this trait? though the curls can be more easily seen on mice (pictured on the right). or, at least it seems that way. have not delved too deeply into the details of rodent genes and husbandry, but id assume its the same sort of mutation considering curly haired mice are also referred to as rex sometimes? either way hes a extra floofy bby 🧡

-as for raphie, unfortunately being more fluff and less shell than the average rapheal comes with its downsides. especially if you and your brothers occasionally encounter things like territorial dogs, hungry cats, or sewer crocodiles while exploring places ur dad said not supposed to go. (most of his scars will have more ninja related stories, but his ear i think got messed up from something very animal. probably around age 11 ish? old enough to sneak out from dads protection but young enough to not fully know how to handle himself alone against real danger. thankfully his ear injury looks worse than it actually is for the most part, as the damage was largely to the outer ear. his hearing wasnt super affected, except that he now has a bit of a harder time being able to track/pinpoint noises origins if its on his right side.)

-also yep! dons got some glasses that just clip/rest on the bridge of his nose! theyre mostly just for home use, as they do fall off if hes knocked around. in the field he has some goggles he tends to use (theyre helpful as they have multiple additional functions like heat-imaging, extra zoom/telescoping, and recording capabilities. but also theyll give him headaches if he wears them for too long without breaks). contacts are theoretically also an option but he absolutely hates the sensation of putting them in. so sometimes when hes tired he'll just not bother with either clips or goggles and just squint and struggle. leo hates when he does that lol.

-speaking of leo, he is def an anxious baby :) he has a few patches of fur missing on his hand cos he has the tendency to tug on it while hes thinking. he yanked and chewed on his own tail a lot when he was younger too, which is why when hes older he usually wears some wraps to cover the scars left from that behavior. he finds those scars specifically to be kinda embarrassing and shameful because they werent from any battle or life-lesson, just his own 'inability to control himself'. all of his brothers have repeatedly called him out on the fact that that is not a healthy way to think about his anxiety or mental health, but leo insists hes fine. hes kinda convinced himself that a proper warrior always has control over his own body* and his own thoughts, thus he should be able to just like willpower-brute-force his way into 'being better'. (this line of thinking pisses raph off so much he has to leave and go hit something)

Splinter also tries to talk him through some of that internalized guilt/shame/everything, but splinters very metaphorical, poetic, and indirect when it comes to talking about Big Things, which combined with how much leo gets caught in his own head, makes it kinda hard to gauge how much these talks actually help

*this is made extra fun considering leos also ftm trans, so he is faced with a body that fundamentally disobeys him perhaps more than the average rat-man.

-and im still going back and forth between a few species for splinter, but im leaning mostly towards an African Spurred Tortoise! they have these beautiful if kinda subtle geometric shell patterns and are the third largest species of tortoise in the world. the only thing that doesnt fit perfectly with Splints is that (allegedly) their lifespan in captivity is around 50ish years, whereas im p sure Tortoise Splinter is well over 75, probably closer to 90 when the boys are born and hes mutated into Old Man Papa.

but maybe hes just a particularly long lasting African Spurred Tortoise.

the Hamato family has taken very good care of him for many decades after all. :)

(well. until everything all fell apart, that is.....)

#tmnt #rat sons #my art #tmnt au #literally bouncing around the room thinking about this all #my downstairs neighbors are gonna hate me #ask reply #sort of???#pats leos fucked up lil head #this bad boy can fit so much projection #get out of ur head idiot ur family loves and wants to help u #also looking at the chaco tortoise and ploughshare tortoise for splinter thoboth of those are smaller species than i think he is

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

ok but whos gonna talk about hotchy boy being all ☹️☹️☹️☹️ when reader does not talk to him just some misunderstanding where they are not in a committed relationship but everyone just knows they have a thing for one another i just wanna hear aaron say “are you mad at me? did i do something? i am a sucker for soft aaron for ONE PERSON his person!!!

Hotch is socially awkward. He can mask it with indifference or professionality, he can manage to assimilate when he's in familiar situations, but now he sticks out like a sore thumb.

He's standing in the doorway of the precinct's kitchen, waiting. Waiting for you to acknowledge him, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to preemptively forgive his apology, waiting for something.

In turn, you're trying very hard not to do any of those things. You're not fond of being reprimanded, especially not for something you didn't do. So when Aaron had snapped at you in front of local officers for being distracted by your phone on a case, and you were only texting back and forth with Morgan about the second crime scene, you'd been annoyed.

You know that it's his job to keep everyone in line, and if he'd been right about you slacking off, you'd have taken the fall. But all he'd done was obstruct you from your job, and embarrass you to boot. So call it petty, but you're trying to avoid even looking at the man if you don't have to.

Thankfully, the precinct's kitchen is against a wall, not in a separate room. It means there's ample space to slip around Aaron and go back to your desk without having to ask him to move.

You're only a few steps behind him when you hear his voice call out after you, "Y/N?"

You try not to stop to abruptly in your tracks, but you turn to him with a politely interested look on your face.

"Yes, sir?"

His jaw shifts at the title, "Are you mad at me?"

You're a little stunned by the question. It sounds like something a child asks their mother, standing by the edge of her bed and asking why she'd rather sleep than play. It certainly doesn't sound like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, the 6'1 man who commands respect in any room he enters.

"What?" Is all you can muster in response.

"Are you..." He repeats, eyes anxious as they stare into your own, "Are you upset with me? Did I do something?"

Now you feel like a child. Embarrassment burns hot at your cheeks, and you chew on the inside of one as you debate telling him that your feelings are hurt because he embarrassed you.

"Nothing," You shake your head, gripping your coffee mug tighter, "You didn't do anything. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired."

Now he's analyzing you, head tilted curiously.

"That's... the oldest excuse in the book," His tone almost sounds sympathetic, like he's pitying you for your terrible lie. "Please tell me if I need to apologize for something."

"It's not-" You rush out, running a tired hand over your face, "It's dumb. Let's just focus on the case, we can talk later."

"I want to talk now," He pushes cautiously, stepping closer to you, "I won't be able to focus on this case until we resolve this."

You try not to think too hard about that, about the fact that his personal relationship with you means more to him than his work.

"It really is dumb," You laugh, but it's a humorless sound, "But earlier, I- I wasn't just slacking off, Hotch. You snapped at me in front of all of those officers, and I was just swapping pictures with Morgan of different missing persons files. I wasn't, like, playing a game or something. I'm not an irresponsible employee."

His face has fallen into something just short of despair. He's calculating the effect of his outburst, knowing now that the local officers probably trust you less, or ridicule you in private for being too absorbed in whatever online presence they think you were updating.

"I'm sorry," He says earnestly, and his chest caves in slightly with how sincere it is, "I should have known you weren't messing around. I hadn't considered that you were talking to one of us, we usually call each other. But I understand - that's no excuse. I shouldn't have reprimanded you, especially not in front of everyone."

Slowly, the more he speaks, his words disarm that little ticking time bomb of pettiness in your chest until its spark fizzles out completely. You're relieved to have closure on the incident, but it doesn't fix everything.

Hotch will, though.

"I'll let you deliver the profile." He decides, in the absence of your response, "And a press conference, if we need one. Give you back any authority I stripped of you back there. I... I really am sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay," You finally give in, shoulders slumping from how stiff they'd been around your neck, "I know this is a particularly stressful case. And it's your job to boss us around."

He offers you a small laugh at that, a soft exhale through his nose paired with something that you could perceive as a smile.

"I just wish it had gone differently."

"Me too," He nods, guilt still trailing after his words, clinging onto him no matter how much he tries shaking it off, "If anyone says anything, or avoids letting you work on something important, let me know."

"I will." You nod, "Thank you, Hotch."

"Thank you," He looks like he wants to surge forwards, and you'll admit that you wouldn't mind a make-up hug. Nevertheless, he keeps himself in check, tugging lightly on his suit jacket to readjust it over his chest, "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me I'd made a mistake."

"Oh I'll tell you," You tease, and his eyes dance with laughter he contains behind a soft smile aimed at the floor, "Mark my words, Hotch, you'll know if you mess up."

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afewproblems · 8 months

Text

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask".

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?'

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?"

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?"

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged".

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window.

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?"

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night.

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack.

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb.

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street.

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake.

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything.

If anything, Eddie has more questions.

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot.

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue.

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?"

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?"

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone.

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him".

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt".

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.

And Wayne would never hurt him.

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse".

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…"

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?"

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday".

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos.

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end.

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again.

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers.

"Dustin?"

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year

Text

Tear Stained Pillow Case - p3

Pairings - Drew Starkey x Fem!reader

Summary- reader tries to move on.

Warnings- language, over the clothes grinding, female orgasm. (18+)

Part 2 Incase you missed it

You had your first date, it was strange. The guy was nice but he wasn’t special, his touch didn’t send shivers down your spine. His lips were rough and sloppy against yours, you found yourself thinking back to the way Drew kissed.

He put his whole body into it, his hands would cradle the back of your head and his lips would mold against yours, goosebumps would litter your skin when his tongue slipped between your lips. You’d taste him on your tongue for weeks after he left.

You tried not to think back to Drew during the date but it was hard, you were so used to the way he did things. Pulling your chair out for you, offering you his jacket, rubbing his thumb against your hand. You missed it.

You never spoke to the guy you went on a date with again, 4 weeks had gone by and you had been set up on another date by a friend. Pushing the negative thoughts to the back of your mind, you need to move on.

You found yourself bored, tapping your fingers on your knee as you listened to the man in front of you talk about his job. Who knew being an accountant was such a bore.

Your eyes wandered over his shoulder, your breath catching in your throat as you made eye contact with Drew. He gives you a soft smile, pulling himself to stand.

Panic bubbles in your chest as your eyes fall back on your date and then back to Drew who was walking towards you now, grabbing the edge of the table to stop yourself from getting up.

“What’s wrong?” Your date questions, reaching his hand over to pat your own.

“Hi y/n”

Both your eyes look up to Drew who towers over the small candlelit table, your date looks back to you for a brief second. “I thought you two were over?”

“Wait… how did you know about him?”

“Bella said that you two broke up… I did some research”

“You looked us up online?” Drew questioned, brows creased together at your date. You shot him a look, as though to tell him to shut up.

“We are broken up”

“About that”

“Drew!”

“I think… I’m just going to leave, here mate” your date pulls himself to stand and grabs his jacket. “Take my seat”.

You watch your date leave, turning your attention back to Drew who sat opposite you with a grin. “I’m leaving”.

You go to stand as your waiter steps to your table, placing down both plates. “Enjoy”.

“Come on y/n… eat first”

He gives you puppy dog eyes, the eyes that could make a girl weak at the knees. You take a seat again and stare down at your pasta, you are hungry. You would eat your meal and then leave.

“You look good”

“Thanks”

“I’ve missed you”

“Drew… please”

“Okay okay… let’s eat”

You both sit in silence, the sound of the chatter around you buzzed through your ear drums. Chewing on your pasta, you can feel his eyes on you every so often. Your own eyes gliding over his body, taking in the purple shadowing under his eyes. He looked thinner, tired.

“Drew” he looks up at you, mouth full of salad. “Are you okay?”. You didn’t want to know the answer truthfully, worried he was unwell.

“Not really” your heart begins to race, every possible scenario running through your head. Gulping down the food you had been chewing on. “y/n please come back to our place, I need to speak to you”.

The mention of your home has goosebumps rising on your skin, you grabbed the napkin and wiped your mouth. Reaching for your bag, you couldn’t do this.

“Please… please don’t leave” he begs, he’s already standing. Grasping your hand that clenched around your purse, taking a deep breath you meet his eyes.

“I don-“

He cuts you off, tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Please”

You find yourself nodding, letting him pull you out of the restaurant not before passing a hundred dollar bill to the waiter. Silence followed you both, walking towards his car.

He does what he has done a million times before and opens the door for you, the familiar butterflies swarm your belly. You offer him a soft smile and step into the car.

A sudden wave of nervous nausea hits you, gripping the seatbelt that hugged your body. You weren’t sure this was the right thing to do, still torn between forgiving him and cutting all contact with him.

You still loved him, loved him so much your heart physically cried for him at night. But him kissing Odessa really fucked you up, you dreamt about the two of them together for months.

“Hey”

Your head snaps to his direction, all negative thoughts out of the window. His eyes are soft, lips quirked into a smile. You watch as he hops out of the car, turning your head to take in your old neighborhood .

Memories punch you in the face, tears welling behind your eyes. You bit down on your tongue to stop yourself from crying, stepping out of the car when Drew held it open for you.

Luckily the street was empty, you both were able to get inside without the old lady next door noticing the two of you. No doubt having a lot of questions of where you had been.

It still smelt the same, ornaments still in the same place. Photos scattered on several bookcases untouched, your blanket still placed on the sofa.

“I haven’t been here since…” Drew’s voice brings you back to the present, you nod your head, unable to trust your words. “I’ll get us some water”.

You find yourself taking a seat on the sofa, running your hands against the material, breathing in the scent of your once happy home. “I get someone in to clean the place every fortnight, so the dust doesn’t accumulate”.

“Drew”

“I’m not selling the place, it’s ours”

You cast your eyes down to the water that has appeared in your hands, staring at the cup you always drank from. Biting your lip you look up at Drew, he’s watching you intently.

“y/n… I’m so sorry, I should have fought for us, I should have been a better boyfriend…”

His hand has grasped yours now, pulling your body closer to his. He’s holding you, breathing in your scent. Your own nose buried into his neck, your favorite cologne invading your nostrils.

“Please, please forgive me… I will do anything, I will-“

You cut him off, pulling away from him and distance yourself by stretching your arms out, palms pressed firmly to his chest.

“How did you know where I was tonight?”

“I didn’t”

“So why were you there?”

You expect him to say meeting him with Odessa, everything always goes back to her.

“I’ve been going every Saturday since we broke up…. It’s your favorite place, I was hoping you’d turn up one day”

“What”

“y/n… I’ve been going to all your favorite places, hoping we would run into each other. You wouldn’t answer my calls, I wasn’t going to turn up at your parents… I wasn’t going to bring drama into your sisters life”

“Drew”

Your heart warms, you let him pull you back into his chest. His fingers stroking your back, your lips press to his collarbone, you feel him tense for a moment.

He kisses your hair, tightening his arms around you. “I promise, I will do better.. I will never work with Odessa again, I will quit acting”

“Drew! No… you will not quit.”

“If it means I can have you back… I’ll quit”

You're holding his head between your hands and kissing him, ignoring the nagging in the back of your mind not to jump back into things. You missed the taste of him, the familiar ache you hadn’t felt in so long settles in your lower belly.

His fingers run through your hair, your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his waist. Settling your bum into his lap, he pulls you in closer until your chest touches his. “I’ve missed this” he mumbled against your lips.

You kiss for what feels like hours, but really it’s only been a few minutes. You pull away, breathless, lips tingling from his stubble. “You're so beautiful”.

You're kissing again, this time your hips move against his. Causing a delicious friction between the two of you, his throbbing cock presses against his jeans.

You let out a gasp when your clit nudges it, his fingers grip your hips. Pulling you down against him, you don’t stop your movements. Letting that tingle bleed through your veins, his hands help you move slower but harder, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his neck.

You find yourself reaching for the bottom of his shirt but his hands stop you. “Let’s not rush this..”

“Oh”

Your movements stop, embarrassment floods you. Cheeks tinting a shade of cherry red, you fumble to pull yourself away but he holds you tighter. “Hey, hey pretty girl… that’s not what I meant. Let me help you another way”

He brings you back to his lap, moving your hips against his once again, he shuffles himself so his hard cock pressed firmly against your mound. “Oh!”

“Like that baby girl” he lets out a groan, his cock aching to feel your around him. His fingers pressed harder into your hips.

You hold onto his shoulders and let your hips move against him, he continues to guide you along. Staring up at your scrunched nose, he pulls you down to kiss you again. “You like that?”

“Mhm!”

Your panties are soaked, pussy clenching around nothing as your swollen clit rubs against him. You want to pull the material away, feel his throbbing cock against your folds. But he’s right, you shouldn’t rush into anything.

“Oh god” you cry, your head feels hot and that tingle spreads throughout your body. Hips meeting him a bit rougher now, chasing that familiar high you hadn’t felt in months. “Let go baby… cum in those pretty panties of yours”

His words edge you closer, dropping your forehead to his. He kisses you again, tongue nudging into your mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as he grinds up against your mound, your crying out into his mouth.

Euphoria, there is a buzzing in your ear. Toes curled as your orgasm hits you, you don’t want this feeling to end. Grinding your hips into his rougher and faster until the pleasure fades and your left feeling embarrassed again.

“Oh god”

You're jumping off him and running to the bathroom, locking it behind you, tears fall from your eyes when you see all of your things scattered in the bathroom still, just how you left it.

“y/n”

His knuckles tap softly in the wooden door, you don’t want to open it. You don’t want to face him.

“Please baby… open the door”

You splash water on your face and turn to unlock the door, he steps in and closes it behind him. Wrapping his arms around your waist, the two of you stare at each other in the mirror.

“Please let me show you how much I need you.. I’m so sorry for everything… let me work for it, please take me back, I can’t live without you, you're my everything, the reason I breathe, the reason I live.”

You stare at him for a moment, you can’t live without him either. But could you trust him, could you forgive him and move forward.

“Okay” you whisper, his arms tighten around you. Pulling you closer to his chest, a sigh of relief emits from his lips. He leaves a soft peck to your shoulder.

“I will be better, I will show you how much I love you, I will make this better”.

🏷️- @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @users09 @teresalesbian @outerbankspov @bbycowboi @stuffyownswrld @ietss @tastycakee @maybankslover @loverofdrewstarkey @wpdailyminimeta @willowpains @littlefirefly08 @brooklynscherry-z @imnotapretzelsstuff @ijustwanttoreadlols @its-ria-07 (I tagged a few people who commented on the last part, lmk if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part)

(If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this series please lmk otherwise here is where you can be added to my general taglist for all fics)

#outerbanks smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #outerbanks drew #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks angst #outerbanks fluff

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chaoticace2005 · 2 months

Text

Random short of Alastor’s shadow being done with his shit and becoming friends with our favorite losers. ( @xxqueenofdragonsxx @downthegenderriver )

Shadowstor was tired.

So tired.

Contrary to popular belief shadows COULD get tired. And Shadowstor was aware of that early on.

Okay… to be fair most shadows probably can’t get tired. Because most shadows can’t feel.

But Shadowstor was an exception. Because the very reason for it’s exhaustion is the same reason it can think to begin with.

Alastor.

Not the Radio Demon. Because Alastor himself isn’t the Radio Demon, no. Shadowstor helped with that. Helped more than it gets credit for (which is virtually none because of how Alastor likes to posture himself.)

And that’s fine, really. Shadowstor is a shadow for fucks sake. It isn’t made for being directly in the spotlight. Alastor is and Shadowstor fades into the background, being obscured with the focus on it’s counterpart.

The thing that does get Shadowstor exhausted though is the fact that Alastor has the tendency of being an impulsive idiot.

Now, don’t get Shadowstor wrong, Alastor is definitely a large part of why the Radio Demon has a reputation as an unhinged, powerful, scary individual. Shadowstor helped with the powers though, but really it thinks its greatest contribution was the fact that this means the Radio Demon now has some semblance of impulse control.

Alastor may not listen to anyone. But it’s usually kind of hard not to hear out a literal manifestation and source of your powers.

Usually. Because Alastor will still start a fight with pretty much anyone. He’ll go on the air and mock Vox for his crush. He’ll say ducks are an overrated animal right in front of Lucifer. He’ll 1v1 the literally first man. He’ll call Susan’s blouse tacky.

And all Shadowstor can usually do is sit back and watch. Because it’s bound to help Alastor. Bound to be part of the Radio Demon. But that doesn’t stop it from being exhausted every single time Al does start something.

One thing though about being tied to Alastor is you get to know others who are tied to Alastor. Others who are equally exhausted by Alastor.

Husk.

The Bar Cat was one being Shadowstor could relate to on a deep level. Because Shadowstor has to put up with the ineptness of Alastor. But Husk has to put up with the ineptness of Alastor and everyone else.

It’s because of this when Alastor is sleeping (which, despite Angel Dust’s verbal doubts on the matter does happen, Alastor isn’t an all powerful being, despite how much he pretends to be,) Shadowstor sometimes will go out, going downstairs to the bar that is usually only occupied by the Cat-Demon waiting from his not-boyfriend to come home.

(Sexual and romantic feelings are so weird. Relationships are so weird and Shadowstor is glad it doesn’t have to deal with that.)

After a particularly tiring day of Alastor trying to break into the Vees tower and destroy Vox’s body pillow of him, Shadowstor was exhausted. It had pretty much given up on trying where Vox was involved, because Alastor seemed to get particular joy out of taunting the TV, but it still felt like it had to try. At this point it was a matter of principle. It had fought with Alastor on this for years and it was not stopping to just let him win.

“Oh, my dear, you worry too much.” He said to Shadowstor before merging with it into the shadows and traveling across the city.

Fifteen minutes later Shadowstor had to rush them out if there because Vox had installed a shark filled moat around his office. Which Shadowstor had seen but Alastor walked right into. Because apparently “radio demon” powers extend to wresting sharks in the water (it does NOT.)

So now Alastor was asleep after pretending he had totally-not-been chewed up by some demon-sharks. And Shadowstor went downstairs to the bar.

“You too, huh?” Husk said to it, seeming to notice right when the shadow crossed with threshold. Working with the Radio Demon for years would get a person skilled at picking up changes in shadows quickly.

Shadowstor just nodded and slumped against the wall, putting its hands to its head.

The winged cat nodded in agreement, “I’ll drink to that.” He said as he took a half-full whiskey bottle and chugged it.

Shadowstor wished it could drink.

“What was it this time? Lucifer’s ducks again?”

The shadow shook its head and flat, vertically-aligned hand on top of it, making the sign for “shark.”

“Oh. Vox. Do I even want to know?”

Shadowstor shook its head again because no, Husk really didn’t. It doesn’t even want to start to think about the Alastor-Body-Pillow. Or the Alastor shrine. Or the Alastor fanfiction it found (which Vox should be lucky that Alastor didn’t find that because otherwise there’d be another broken TV screen in this hotel.)

Right then a beaten up pink spider burst through the hotel doors, going right to a stool in the bar and crashing onto it.

“Tough night?” Husk asked, already handing his not-boyfriend a drink that had been prepared even before Shadowstor arrived.

“You know it. Fuckin’ Val.”

Husk made a sound to show he was listening.

“Apparently Vox was pissed today. So that meant Val was pissed today.”

Oh… oops?

Okay, to be fair, if Vox is pissed at Alastor that isn’t really Shadowstor’s fault. It tried to stop him.

The shadow made a face palm again at its counterpart’s need to harass every single person he came into contact with.

“Wha- Smiles?”

Alastor’s here?! Wait… no he isn’t. Cause Shadowstor is here. And Shadowstor would know if Al woke up.

Oh… the spider demon is staring right at it.

Shadowstor shook its head, a bit annoyed at the idea of being confused with that impulsive buffoon.

“Huh? Husk, what—“

“That’s Alastor’s shadow.”

Shadowstor waved.

“Alastor’s what?”

“Shadow? You know? The thing that goes around with him. Helps with his powers. I’m sure he’s manifested it in front of you before.”

“Oh… yeah. So it’s just… here? Where’s Al?”

Shadowstor made the sign for sleeping.

“Sleeping.” Husk translated.

“What? How?!”

“His shadow can leave when Alastor isn’t conscious or controlling it.”

“No. I mean how did you get that from that?!” Angel says as he motions back over to Shadowstor which… rude.

“I know sign language.”

“You know WHAT?!”

“Sign language.”

“Jesus Whiskers, how many languages do you know?”

“Well there’s Russian, Spanish—“

“Wait. No. Back to the point. Alastor’s shadow just comes down here sometimes and talk to you?”

“…yeah?”

“About what?”

Shadowstor just makes one sign with as much as exhaustion as it can.

“Alastor.”

“Al— wait,” Angel laughs, “even Smiles’ shadow has a problem with him?!”

Shadowstor starts signing to explain the exact issue it faces with Alastor, Husk working to translate while Angel just nods in response.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe a fucking shadow has some oftha same shitty boss troubles as me.”

Shadowstor gives a shake and growl at that. Because Alastor isn’t it’s boss. It can see Husk about to translate before Angel cuts in.

“Oh… not your boss.”

Shadowstor nods.

“…so you’re like… you’re own person?”

Shadowstor shrugs because who knows. It wasn’t sentient before Alastor but it sure as hell is now.

“… you got a name?”

And Shadowstor pauses because no. It’s just Alastor’s shadow. For as long as it’s been around it’s never had a name. Alastor never deemed that necessary.

“Husk? Does it?” Angel asks when Shadowstor won’t answer which- hey it’s still right here. It can talk for itself. Or respond anyways.

“I don’t… think so?”

Angel turns back to Shadowstor.

“Do ya want one? Like… if you’re separate from Alastor shouldn’t you have a name that isn’t just ‘his shadow.’”

The shadow thinks for a second before slowly nodding, intrigued by this novel idea.

“What about… Tom?”

Tom?

“Tom?” Husk asks.

“Fuck. Fine, what about… Dusk? Cause y’a know shadows and darkness and stuff…”

Dusk… Dusk… it likes that.

Dusk nods and it can see the spider demon smile.

“Sweet. Nice ta meetya Duskie- oh wait. Duskie… Husky! Aw ya rhyme!”

Dusk can see Husk roll his eyes, and that just makes it even more comfortable in its decision.

—Later—

“So, you’re only able to really move around at night? When Al is asleep?”

Dusk nods.

“…Husk, what do you think Lucifer and Vox would say about moving our ‘Fuck Alastor’ meetings to nighttime?”

Oh. Oh Dusk likes this one.

216 notes · View notes

mulloey · 8 months

Text

what you pay for • mingi

you know what he’s here for (aka is it too late for a bouncy au idk)

warnings: western au, cowboy!mingi, prostitution, reader calls him sir but it’s not a kink, fairly dom!mingi, gentle choking, some slaps, threats of punishment, unprotected sex, me wrapping it up way too early because im tired

—————

He catches your eye almost instantly. He’s a little taller and younger than most of the regulars here, scowl on his face as he surrenders his weapons at the door — “Shop policy,” drawls the old man with an outstretched hand. He curses under his breath, they all do, but doesn’t seem any less confident even without his protection. Though you’re certain he’s never been here before, he oozes the confidence not just of a regular, but something even bigger. Something untouchable.

You watch as he buys a drink, served by one of the other girls, and downs it like he’s been waiting for it for years. He mutters something to the bar maid and she blushes. You roll your eyes, imagining he’s trying to buy her a drink but she doesn’t flash the knowing look you all share as you accept the most expensive liquor he can buy, pour yourself some tea, and pocket the cash. So he must be saying something else. You don’t know why you’re wondering what that is — the nature of your job means strange, intriguing characters by the dozen — but there’s something to him you haven’t seen in a while. Endless mystery ends up cancelling itself out, but even as the unpredictable has become expected, he still has you wondering about him. You need to meet this man. Find out his deal.

You stay perched on your table, chewing on the candies your Madame made, trying to look uninterested and passive as you steal occasional glances at him. You take in his broad back and the dark hair hidden beneath his hat before he turns around and finally sees you. Finally, he gets up, thanking the girl for his drink before he approaches you, coming to a stop next to your table. He puts a large, rough hand down onto the wood, just inches from your leg. He shoots a one-sided smile as his eyes rake over you.

“Barmaid says you’re down to play,” he gruffs and wow, his voice is low, low and rough and electrifying. It has you blushing, and this time when you flutter your eyelashes just as Madame taught you, you really mean it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you giggle. He cocks an eyebrow, amused, and leans in closer.

“That a yes?” He chuckles. You watch as his hand moves along the wood towards your bare leg, tantalisingly close. “If it's not, you can feel free to move your leg outta my way,” he says lowly. You smile, keeping eye contact as you ever so slightly move towards him. He’s toying with you — but this is your game.

When his hand finally reaches you, curling around your ankle, it’s not as dramatic a moment as you expected, as he probably wanted, but it does feel different. Good. Right. And watching his dirtied hand sullying your skin as he runs it up your leg is strangely thrilling. As a saloon girl you’re by no means pure, but the presence, the demeanour of this man has you wanting him to find the one last tiny piece of you that is yet untainted, and crush it in his hands.

His smirk says he knows what you’re thinking but, still respectful, his hand stills before it can go under your skirts and towards your heat, but his grip on your lower thigh is tight and wanting. “You work upstairs?” He asks and you grin.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe. He helps you off the table and you nod at another bar maid, letting her know what you’re doing before you lead him upstairs and towards your private rooms.

When the door of your room slams shut his hands are already on you, up your skirt, across your face and every inch of you he can reach. His kiss is hungry and desperate but a hand on your neck puts him firmly in control. “Fuck, little girl,” he groans. “You want it?”

Your head falls back as his lips latch onto your neck. Your grip on his waist tightens. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Fuck.”

He smacks his hand scoldingly against your thigh, brows furrowed. “Don’t dirty that pretty mouth,” he breathes. “Terrible language for a lady.”

You laugh softly at that. “You’re the first— fu—” you catch yourself before the cuss leaves your mouth, instead going for a vague, strangled sort of groan and he snorts, but the pleased look on his face encourages you. “You’re the first in a while to call me a lady,” you finish.

“Well you ain’t a man,” he laughs. “Let’s just—” You gasp when his hand finally reaches your pussy, sliding into your panties and finding your clit instantly. He smiles. “Yeah, definitely a lady. Got the pretty little parts to match.”

A long finger penetrates you slowly, as gentle as if you were a still virgin, tight and unbroken. You push into it desperately, whining when he starts to rub slow circles on your clit. You’re more than experienced with men, but you enjoy this careful treatment. You feel almost… cherished.

The finger inside you finds your spot and you cry out, jolting against him until his other hand wraps easily around your neck, holding you still against the door. “Fuck, Sir—”

“Mingi,” he interrupts. “You can call me Mingi, I— fuck, I wanna hear you say my name.”

If you weren’t so wound up you’d smirk — names are not commonplace here, even regulars preferring to keep theirs private lest the sheriff come knocking, so for him to hand out his purely out of desperation to hear you say it must mean he wants you just as badly.

“Mingi,” you moan and he grunts, curling his finger inside you.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers. “Sounds so good.”

“Then fuck me,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Tellin’ me what to do now, doll?” He asks. “Don’t do that. You’re fuckin’ electric but I’ll spank you if you get cocky.”

You huff but nod your head. You strangely love the way he talks down to you, telling you what to do and scolding you like a little girl. It’s somehow different from the others, the endless men who traipse into your room and speak to you like a common whore. Perhaps the difference is how Mingi strokes your neck so gently as he humiliates you. Or maybe it’s the finger that fucks your cunt like no one has ever even tried to. But it doesn’t matter. This man is addictive and you already know you’ll do anything to get your fix.

His eyes are piercing as they stare you down, lips twitching as he observes your reaction to every movement. “I do think you deserve it, though,” he says. “To get fucked.”

You should be humiliated by the way you nod fervently, like you’ve been starved of this your whole life, but you’re not. Right now you’re capable of any emotion but unbridled desire and desperation. “Please,” you whisper. “Please, Mingi.”

“Get on the bed,” he orders, smiling sweetly as his hands leave you.

You whine pathetically at the loss of contact and he laughs, watching as you stumble towards the bed. You look back at him, waiting for instruction but he just smiles.

“You choose the position, angel,” he says. “Since you’re being so good.”

“From the back,” you say much quicker than you should have. “Want you to use me.”

The way he grins tells you he was thinking the same. “Ass up then, doll.”

You find the position easily, well-practised but your heart faces as though this were your first time. You feel Mingi’s presence behind you, towering over you as rough hands run up the backs of your thighs. He pulls up your skirts without a word, leaving you bare-assed and more vulnerable than ever. A sharp smack lands against one of your cheeks and it’s painfully delicious. You want him to hurt you, you realise. You want him to ruin you.

“Should I go slow?” He asks. “Or d’you reckon you’re wet enough for me to slide right in?”

You both know the answer. “Wet enough, Sir.”

He chuckles, sliding a finger in to check his grunt of approval is both gratifying and humiliating. “You’re right,” he says. “This cunt is fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Seconds later and his cock is penetrating you without warning, entering you easily but still stretching you. He’s big, you think. You knew he would be.

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it, thrusting into you fast and hard. Your chokes and gasps mix with the sound of skin slapping and his groans of pleasure. A drawn out ‘fuuuck’ fills you with pride. You’re tight even after all this time, like you were made for taking dick, a vessel for pleasure — his pleasure.

You cry his name over and over, chanting it like a prayer — apt, you think, because this is certainly the closest to heaven you’ll ever get. On the edge of bliss he pulls out only to slam back in again, pulling your hips against his to push himself deeper. His grip on you is bruising, as are the slaps he lands on your ass just to hear you scream. A single touch to your clit pushes you over the edge and you collapse into him, breathless and dazed but he keeps going, chasing his release. For once you pray he doesn’t pull out — you want him to come in you, pump you full of his seed, maybe even get you pregnant. You crave it like you’ve never craved anything and he delivers, unloading into you with a yell.

When you come to your bundled in his arms, held tight against his warm chest.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks and you sigh. You’d almost forgotten what this was, a simple exchange of services between two people. But it doesn’t have to be. Business may be business, but you know what you want, and you want it again.

“First time’s free, baby,” you lie.

He hums, not really believing you, but you know he’s just as addicted to you as you are. “Guess I’ll need to come back, huh?”

Yeah, you think with a smile. You guess he will.

—————

Heyy just dropping something small cus I haven’t posted in a while. Not proofread but please reblog and comment if u like this! Requests are still OPEN! Love🖤🖤

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez au #ateez x reader

523 notes · View notes

dmitriene · 5 months

Text

𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗚𝗜𝗡 𝗚𝗙 𝗣𝗧 𝟮.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘣𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘛𝘞: 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛, 𝘗𝘜𝘙𝘌 𝘍𝘓𝘜𝘍𝘍, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

days passed one after another, it seems simon was really scared after your last attempt at intimacy, it was even kind of comedic, a man who could break skulls and wash himself with the blood of his enemies was scared when his beloved girl got a small scratch on her lip while she was trying to blow him, wasn’t it charming?

it would have been so if he had not completely cut himself off from you, no, he did not stop touching you completely, on the contrary, he brought you to crushing pleasure with both his wide fingers and his deft tongue, looking into your tearful eyes through his light eyelashes, watching as your mouth opened slightly in the shape of the o, and your face was replaced by a new emotion each time, until you threw your head back, arching your spine with a quiet mewl, as soon as his tongue touched your pulsating bud, sucking it into his warm and wet mouth, full of saliva, as if he had been starving himself all day before touching you ‹𝟹

but that's not fair! you also wanted to do make him feel good, and even all sweet nothings in your blushing ears like — «your mere presence is enough to make me feel good, love» or — «the way your tender walls squeeze my fingers is already the fuckin' best thing i could have dreamed of» wasn't enough! you really want to learn, to do even better, but you know better than to argue with simon, and even your innocent teasing, such as licking his fingers, biting them, or biting his earlobe, making him growl and squeeze your waist until there are reddish marks on skin, none of this works, he knows how to hold back, and so he just ruffles your hair like an adorable pet, allowing you to continue, knowing that if he says no, it means no.

but it gets even worse when he says that he needs to go on a mission, yes, it is not as long as usual, but this does not change the fact that you will be left completely alone for a decent amount of time, and even none of his soft kisses and consolations do not cancel your disappointment, it’s not simon’s fault, of course not, and you never think so! you'll just be so bored and so lonely((

well, or you thought that you would, until you found yourself an innocent little hobby ‹𝟹 he will be away for so long, tired and miss you, so why not please him by sending him photos about how your day is going?

even if in the end, somehow magically, all your days consist of lying on your shared bed in a charming set of underwear with your cute fingers stuffed deep into your wet hole, chants of his name every now and then escape from your lips in the videos that you record for him almost daily, making him practically cum right in his pants, looking at the screen morning and night with wide pupils, grumbling and trying to tell you off with his promises that only push you to continue — «such a fucking tease you are, lovie, wait for me to come back and you won't be able to stand properly, gonna fuck you finally, what do you think, hm? dreaming, begging for it, aren't ya?»

and this promise alone is enough to send a shock of shivers down your spine, a quiet whine intuitively escapes from your throat when you look at this message and chew your lower lip, fidgeting with your teeth against it and typing the answer with almost trembling fingers, impatiently fidgeting on the sheets — «please, si, wouldn't want anything else, can't wait to you to get back home, feeling so empty already..»

every word pushes him into the abyss even more, he wanted to spend more time, he really did, but every vulgar message you send, a video with your precious naked areas of skin and how needy you act make him not care at all, he definitely will fulfill your every wish as soon as he returns home, anything for his sweet girl, just wait ‹𝟹

he returned home after about two weeks, about half a month at most, and he is finally in a familiar environment where he is immediately greeted by a light aroma of freshness and notes of your scent, but you are not on the sofa or in the kitchen, forcing him to habitually to worry, because even from the bathroom there is no sound — until he passes by your bedroom, catching the quiet purrs of his name from there, his hand shamelessly squeezes the door handle and opens it, revealing a charming scene in front of him.

your body arches against the sheets as you bury your face in the pillow, incoherently mewling his name like a prayer as your fingers move in and out of your wet, loose hole, you didn’t know that he would return today, and you missed him so much, you wanted to feel him so close that in the end you ended up in this position, your panties are somewhere on the edge of the bed, falling to the floor, there is nothing on your body except his t shirt, and your eyes become wet with tears of disappointment because your own fingers are not enough for you, when the sound of his voice makes you shudder sharply and squeeze around your digits — «what a beautiful scene, hm? are ya greeting me like this, darling?»

you whine something, looking at him over your shoulder through the damp veil and stupidly tilting your head like a lost kitten, whispering softly — «s-si? you're back?..» realization comes gradually, this is simon, you smell him and, albeit imprecisely, you see his figure in the doorway, so you move to remove your fingers from your pussy, wagging your hips and your ass that currently raised into the air when his commanding voice calls you, making you shudder and obediently freeze — «tsk, no.. no lovie, keep those fingers in and then i'm gonna replace them with mine»

your head moves on a subconscious level and you nod like a dummy, freezing in place even despite the slight numbness in your legs when he steps closer with measured and silent steps, crossing the path from the now closed door to the bed, allowing the mattress to sag under the weight of his knee as he settles down behind you, tracing your plush ass with his hand, pulling off his balaclava and throwing it away, a straight line of teeth clinging to the fabric of his gloves to expose his fingers and allow you to feel the warmth of his skin, as well as the beloved roughness of his fingertips.

— «waited for me so obediently, teasin' me, stuffing your poor cunt with your fingers while she begged for more, ye? don't worry, i'm here now» a rough, slightly hoarse voice teased, his eyes darkening even more with primal hunger as he watches your seductively arched body, wanting nothing more than to completely take possession of you, to take care of you.

simon settles on his knees behind you, his strong hands taking control as he guides your fingers deeper into your throbbing slick hole with one hand, pushing you over the edge, his touch intentional and guiding, allowing you to finally feel your stomach heat and twist with that lovely feeling.

his other hand quickly undoes the belt on his pants and his fly, casually and with a slap he pulls down the elastic of his boxers, freeing his swollen, throbbing cock which jumps forward, stands at attention and begs for release, pearls of precum slowly forming at the tip as he smears them along his impressive length.

soon his fingers smoothly take the place of yours, so much so that you don’t even notice when he thrusts into your wetness with decisive speed, plunging into your absolutely relaxed hole, he feels your walls squeezing his thick digits, and your moans of pleasure only increase his own arousal.

his free hand wraps around his aching shaft, stroking it firmly, causing milky drops of precum to gather at the tip even more actively, the pulsating sensation only intensifies, prompting him to seek release in the depths of your needy cunt, he just needs to play with you longer, make sure you are ready.

his breathing becomes heavier, his movements become more insistent, he can't help but imagine how he will stretch you, the thought makes his cock throb and ache with a raw, instinctive desire to finally feel you around him, making his thoughts melt and tongue take the leading position — «jus' a little bit, ffuuck, longer baby, gonna make you cum on those fingers your cunny loves so much»

his words alone are enough to make you squeeze him with a sucking tightness and tremble, simon's chuckle resounds in his chest and throughout the room when he sees your dumbfounded expression on your face, your moans of pleasure echo throughout the room after the long awaited orgasm, and he removes his fingers from your throbbing cunt, and the flow of your juices follows suit.

his teasing nature takes over as he runs his fingers over your sensitive bud, causing you to shiver, before, with deliberate slowness, he slides his swollen, sticky cock between the soft globes of your ass, the tip, bright red and slick with precum, pressing against yours puckered entrance, teasing and taunting, causing you babble confusedly — «pleaseplease, hhmnh, sisi, need you inside»

he savors this moment, taking his time to build anticipation, he unabashedly enjoys the power he holds over your trembling body, his own need barely contained as he holds both you and himself back, his senses on fire.

simon's actions are quick and decisive as he suddenly flips you onto your back and your body slides lower, positioning you perfectly for what's about to happen, giving him a view of your flushed face.

his deep, bottomless eyes meet your drunken expression as a small smirk appears on his lips, your legs spread wide, inviting him into your depths, and he obeys, feeling a rush of possessiveness, holding one of your legs under his knee, spreading it for his own review.

with deliberate slowness, he begins to slide his throbbing cock into your tight, virgin cunt, sharp new sensations overwhelm you, forcing you to close your eyes and instinctively hug his neck, seeking comfort and connection, hiding in his fragrant skin and calming down a little, especially thanks to the loosenes and the wetness of your pussy from early.

simon openly enjoys the tightness of your untouched walls, feeling pure pleasure as he finally slowly slides into you, taking his time, allowing you to adjust to his size, feeling every inch of your warmth gradually envelop his length, tight and pleasantly wet.

his cock continues its leisurely pace, plunging deeper into your depths, his every movement is calculated and controlled, therefore, having reached the deepest point of his penetration, he freezes, giving you the opportunity to adapt to the fullness and intensity of his presence between your walls.

his hand leaves your leg and slides to your face, gently touching your cheek, he nuzzles your cheek, his stubble brushing your skin, seeking connection beyond the physical, caring for your condition and purring huskily when you whine, fidgeting slightly — «i know, got you all dumb on my cock, but i need you to tell me if it's okay, love»

brown eyes search your face, looking for any signs of discomfort or pain, he wants to make sure that you are enjoying this experience as much as he does and that he is not pushing you beyond your limits, the heart in your chest swells and melts at his tenderness, so you struggle with the weight of your tongue in your mouth and whisper — «g-good si, feeling good, move, please move, mm» while his body is pressed against yours and his fingertips continue their gentle ministrations on your twitching bud, relaxing you.

simon registers your soothing words, knowing you're ready for him to continue, and when you recoil from his neck, letting your head fall onto the sheets, he takes the lead and his body instinctively begins to move inside yours.

your moans of pleasure slowly fill the air as you arch beneath him, the feeling of his teeth and lips on your neck adding to the intensity as he marks you with bites and kisses, leaving his imprint on your skin, slowly thrusting in and out of your tightness.

with a movement of his hand he moves it back under your knee, leaving your quivering bud, spreading your leg wider, giving him more access to your tight, drooling sex, his movements gradually becoming more purposeful, each thrust and rock of his hips calculated to please both of you, slapping gently with his skin against yours.

the thrusts become more intense, his muscular thighs slapping your ass with each more powerful movement, he lifts your leg even higher, giving him deeper access, causing you to squirm and claw at his arm in response to the sudden fullness, suddenly sighing and gasping, eyes rolling — «ah! mm! gonna — gonna cum like that, s-simon»

he hears you, but doesn't stop, his cock sliding deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix with every hard thrust, and the sensation alone sends waves of pure pleasure through your body, causing your mouth to open and close in silent ecstasy.

your eyes, slightly closed with desire, meet his dark gaze as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, gently touching your cheek with his lips, whispering words of encouragement, putting your pleasure above his own, saying through quiet growls — «good job, mgrh, go on, don't need to wait, yeah? cum f'me»

a couple more increasingly insistent thrusts become the final ones, bringing you to the edge as he continues to fuck you to orgasm, your inner walls clenching and sucking on his cock, feeling each vein and clamping around him in a wave of pleasure, soft mewls filling the room, echoing his satisfied grunts.

he kisses you passionately, his lips trailing down your face and neck, leaving marks and bites in their wake, the feeling of his teeth scraping against your shoulder only intensifies your pleasure, making you twitch and squirm across the sheets.

at the height of the moment he reaches his climax, his body tenses, muscles and abs flex and he releases his warm, pulsating cum deep into your slick pussy, his liquid warmth sending another shiver of pleasure coursing through your slightly exhausted body.

you cling to him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, seeking comfort and closeness after the first thrilling experience, and it makes him chuckle softly as he nuzzles your warm cheek, stroking your leg — «that's it, did soo good, now it's time to rest, mm?» you respond with something incoherent, nodding, although in the end you only bump into his shoulder as your consciousness slowly falls into sleep, and the last thing you feel is a warm towel and gentle strokes on your skin as he wipes you down, stroking you tenderly on the head ‹𝟹

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