#like I’m tickled pink every time I see stuff like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seeingivy · 1 month

Text

the lore

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) sukuna fic

previous part linked here

AN: tw/ mentions of SA and manipulation. please read at your own discretion - protect your own peace!!!

“okay, well. it was back when-” you start.

sukuna reaches forward and pinches the bridge of your nose.

“are you a nutjob?”

you frown.

“huh?”

sukuna drops his hands from your face, resting them against your waist before he uses them to spin you around. he’s walking behind you, leading your steps to the bedroom and whispering into your neck.

“c’mon. we’ll wash up for bed and then talk. want you to be comfortable and all that, we’re not gonna have a serious conversation in the fucking kitchen.” sukuna murmurs.

you smile, letting his attentive hands lead you to the bathroom as he busies himself with doing nearly everything for you. pulling the clips out of your hair and placing the headband just right to pull your hair back, putting toothpaste on both of your brushes, and busying himself with doing your skincare.

his fingers are soft on your cheeks, the slight tautness of his fingertips massaging the terse of your cheek.

and you can’t help but stare at him. at the arch of his eyebrows, his eyes attentively focused on the task, and how slowly he’s breathing – in full focus.

“quit staring. you're freaking me out with your bug eyes.” sukuna murmurs.

you smile.

“you’re a big acts of service guy.” you state.

“eh?”

“acts of service! it’s a love language.”

sukuna glares at you.

“love language? where the fuck do you come up with this shit?”

you hum in response.

“it’s a book – you can even take a quiz to see which of the five is yours. it’s how you show love, how you like to receive it. and yours is acts of service.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“is not.”

“yeah, it is! you always like to do stuff for me. like when you washed all my clothes. took the train back to the apartment for me, making me breakfast. you like to do things for me!”

“you’re my girlfriend. i’m not a fucking asshole that’s going to let you take the train alone at night.”

you roll your eyes.

“but the breakfast.”

“you know, i’m quite attached to my security deposit. can’t exactly have you burning my apartment down every morning.” sukuna complains.

you frown.

“still. you like to do things for me. that’s how you show your love.”

the serum he spreads under your eyes cools your skin, as you instinctively shut your eyes and welcome the tiny sting.

“what’s yours?”

“quality time! and words of affirmation.”

sukuna pauses.

“sounds about right. you’re always lurking around here, like a troll.”

you open your eyes and give him a grin.

“i’ll just be on my way out then.” you state, stepping out of the bathroom.

but sukuna’s too quick with it, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on top of your head. he tickles at your sides, as you try to squirm out of his touch and smack his arms.

“when did i tell you to leave, huh?”

“quit tickling, i’m-”

“you leave when i tell you to leave.” sukuna states.

sukuna’s tickling subsides, as you heave and turn around to glare at him. sukuna’s delighted at the pink flush in your cheeks, coupled with the murderous glare you’re giving him.

“if you had your way, i’d never leave.” you state.

sukuna leans forward, lips brushing against yours and nose ghosting your skin.

“something wrong with that, huh? is it a crime to want you all to myself?” sukuna whispers.

it’s enough to send an electrifying jolt down to your core, as you look up at his brown eyes – honeyed over with sweetness. you reach forward and cup his cheek.

“no.” you whisper.

sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head, before locking his hand in with yours and dragging you out. and you both turn around, quickly discarding your dress clothes for your pajamas and settle under the sheets, tangling your legs together, as you rest your head against his bare shoulder – twisting the little charm on his necklace between your fingers.

sukuna’s hands are in your hair, massaging into your temples as you push your cheek harder into the warmth of his shoulder.

“sometimes it’s hard to explain how things were when they…build up over time. when i try to explain it…it all seems so trivial but i-”

“none of this is going to sound trivial to me.” sukuna clarifies.

you smile.

“i know. i just mean, it’ll sound…stupid. petty stuff at first but it–”

“acknowledging that someone treated you so far from what you deserve is never going to be stupid to me.”

the bluntness is enough to catch you off guard. you give him a meek nod, feeling your cheeks head up as you try to remember the order of events, how things escalated so far, and it’s almost like the damper of it all is back in your brain.

sometimes remembering feels like an oversaturated filter. that if you recollect your memories, that underlying feeling of the memories casts over your entire head, that it sucks out your energy even though nothing is really happening – even though you’re far from him and from being treated like that again.

“no one liked me when i was in middle school.” you state.

sukuna fights the urge to correct you. to tell you all about the camping bag, about how he thought about it for years, even mentioning it at his big age of twenty one to all of his coworkers. but he refrains.

“maybe some part of me internalized that. but i’d watch as people all around me would…would have these guys interested in them. and sometimes i’d try to copy them. i’d want the same jewelry, like the same movies…try to change my hair so i’d look like them.”

sukuna presses a kiss to your hair. you get the message and shoot him a halfhearted smile.

“when i went to highschool…i was really hyper aware of what other people wore. talked about, when it came to guys. and sometimes it would really frustrate me – how stupid, how fucking petty people would be in relationships.” you start.

“i would have killed to be in their position, sukuna. that if i got to love someone, if…if i could get someone to like me back, i would have done it so right. i’d buy them gifts, i’d tell them i love them, i would never talk to other guys because they were all i wanted.” you finish.

how adamant you were being about sucking his dick an hour ago suddenly makes plain, clear sense to sukuna – confirming his hunch entirely. that you’d do anything to make him happy, and while it’s a noble quality, a part of him knows where this is going – and the fact that someone took advantage of it, such a deep earnestness to love, to please, fills him with an insurmountable amount of disgust.

“when i was in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker.” you state.

“with your weird inappropriate english teacher, i remember.”

you smile.

“yeah. i feel like it was one of those…those cosmic connection type things. where you see someone and you just know you like them. he was doing role on the first day and…and i don’t know what it is but i just found myself being drawn to him. i couldn’t help but stare – at how he smiled at his friends, waved at other people in the class.”

you cringe.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be talking about other guys like that when–”

sukuna shakes his head, dismissively.

“i want to know the whole story. if this is a part of it, if this is what’s truthful for you, then that’s okay. granted, i already have a leg up on this parker idiot – you’re in my bed, tangled up in my arms right now. not his.”

you smile.

“you jealous?”

“of some pipsqueak little fifteen year old who didn’t see your worth? absolutely not. and we’re the ones with the real cosmic connection, so i’ll live.” sukuna deadpans.

“we have a cosmic connection?” you ask.

“of course. you think i let yuuji play my video games when i was six? i only let you guys play, the first time we met because you were there. i was fully intent on hanging him upside down from his legs but…decided against it.”

you smile, pressing a kiss into the muscle of his shoulder. it takes a second – to reach your train of thought again – and sukuna affords you the time to think, twirling the ends of your hair in his fingers.

“the year after that, i ended up in this big friend group of people, with guys, which i had never had before. it was originally a big group for a school dance, but…we just ended up hanging out after that. and when we all started hanging out as a group, i realized that my best friend and parker would…talk a lot. we’d go on picnics and they’d be trailing behind the group – and i’d never really found myself fitting in with any of them.” you state.

you pause.

“i’m really boring, sukuna. i mean, i know that i’m not boring, that drinking and smoking and going to parties or whatever doesn’t make you cool – but at that time, i felt boring. they’d all smoke and i’d shake them off, they’d all dress a certain type of way and i wouldn’t. and…and it was like everyone knew it too.”

“we’d play these games of truth or dare. and i’d always do dare, just to…get sometime tame. like writing something in marker on the wall.”

sukuna’s eyes widen.

“how is vandalism tame?”

“erasable markers. and compared to everyone else’s dares – to kiss each other on the neck, to wear each other’s clothes or…or take their own clothes off. i’m glad they never asked me to do that stuff, because they knew i wouldn’t or…or i couldn’t…but. made me feel like a sore thumb sometimes.”

you swallow hard.

“there was this guy in the group. his name was mazzy.”

“prick name.” sukuna states.

you laugh.

“you’re funny.”

“what was funny about that? objectively, that is such a prick name. i want him dead.”

you can’t help but look up at him, his angry brown eyes looking down at yours. and slowly but surely, he breaks out into a smile, rubbing into the little smile lines by your eyes.

“i love how i just wished death on another person and you’re smiling at me like i’m the sun.” sukuna states.

you laugh in response, as you rest your head back against his shoulder and trace stars into your shoulder.

and there’s a searing regret when you recall that what comes next was the catalyst for everything that happened – that a seemingly harmless move caused you some of the deepest, gutting pain of your life.

“i sent him a tiktok, based on this inside joke that the entire group had about him. individually, in a chat with just me and him. and after that…we just started talking. everyday, about lots of different things.”

you swallow hard.

“about him, a lot. he’d tell me all about…the girls he liked, what he liked about them. it was always objectifying. and…sometimes he’d make these comments after i asked why he told me. i was…trying to hint that he thought i was really trustworthy, or that we were friends but-”

you frown.

“he’d always say it’s because i’m not a real girl.”

“what?” sukuna asks.

you can feel hot tears in your eyes, remembering the biting sting of being told that in the early hours of the morning, when you’d sacrifice your sleep to hear what he had to say.

“i wasn’t a real girl.” you whisper.

sukuna reaches forward, swiping the lone tear spilling from your eye, his demeanor washed over in concern, in contempt.

“he…he wasn’t a good guy. so, just…don’t judge me for not saying anything about it or the comments he made and-”

“you were sixteen. keep going.” sukuna whispers.

the recognition, or the mere acknowledgement, that sukuna wasn’t going to accost you for not doing the right thing is enough to make your chest ache. because now, at twenty-two, the comments he made – slight jabs at the expense of others – they disgust you.

and sometimes it disgusted you that you had put up with it, that you had brushed it aside, just so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. that you were that desperate for it.

“when i asked what he meant, he said it again. that i don’t count as a real girl, that…which is why he can tell me about how hot other girls are, how horny he is for them all the time. and i know – trust me, i know how fucked up it was of him to say that, of me to not correct him – but…i guess i just internalized it instead. that he had put words to the feeling i had. that i didn’t get dares like the other girls did, that other guys weren’t interested in me, because…”

there’s a block lodged in your throat, vision blurry.

“because i’m not a real girl. i’m not pretty, and i wasn’t smart and – why would someone ever consider me…why did i delude myself into thinking it could be different?”

sukuna’s insurmountable rage is displaced now, from this faceless asshat, to everyone else. to idiots like naobito – who was going to get another beating from him – to yuuji and kugisaki’s seemingly harmless comments, even down to your mother who had affirmed this feeling to you. hundreds of times over.

but he realizes that it's because they don't know. and makes every intention to stop them, in the most discrete way he can.

“a year after that, he started talking to me about more personal stuff. about his parents, how he thought his sister hated him. and i’d always listen – i’d always affirm him that i thought he was great, and that point, i had started liking him…and i’d do anything to make him feel good.” you state.

you bite into your cheek.

“there was this day where he was talking about his parents, about how he felt so frustrated hiding it, and i…i told him that it wasn’t just him who felt like that, that lots of people did. like me. and it was almost like he had flipped a switch – because we went from talking about him to him…wanting to know everything about me.”

sukuna absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear, the thoughts floating around his head. that at that time, it must have meant the world to you. that now, you were one of those people. that someone wanted to talk to you, to know about you too.

but it leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth. because it almost feels exploitative to him, that this asshat had talked to you for a year at this point, and had only now thought to ask about you. after you had played therapist for a year.

and the thought of you spilling out your secrets – about your dad, about sammy – just to have it turn around on you alter makes him understand that little concrete wall. and thanks the lords that he was there, a house across from you his entire life.

the regret that sukuna left is deeper. because sukuna couldn’t have prevented it – any of it – but the thought of you suffering alone made his stomach hurt. that he could have at least been here.

“where was yuuji?” sukuna asks.

“you know…no one really knew that we talked. yuuji included. it was almost late into the night and…and when we first got together, we didn’t tell anyone for months. it wasn’t going to be a good idea, because of a fight we had before we were dating, where he called me a bitch in front of everyone and-”

“he called you a bitch?”

“yeah. it was this dumb thing, group plans that i had made that were kind of spontaneous from this volunteering thing. some people felt left out, and…and i had even invited him because he wasn’t there…but later…when it all kind of blew up in my face, he called me a bitch and everyone was just confused as to why we were friends after that. left a bad taste in people’s mouths.”

“why didn’t it? for you?” sukuna whispers.

“he was really good at being apologetic. and if someone was being earnest, i was always going to forgive.” you murmur.

sukuna frowns.

“always loved that about you. that you saw good, even if there wasn’t any.”

you smile.

“yeah. came to bite me in the butt later but…i’m getting ahead of myself.”

sukuna nods, hand warm around your neck, as he pulls you closer.

“when we met up for the first time, we wrote each other these letters. mine was four pages – about all the things i liked about him, memories that i cherished. and he wrote me one too, but…”

you pause.

“it was nice. there was stuff in there that was nice. but..he ended it with some joke about how he wanted to hit it from behind.”

sukuna watches the disgust spread over your face, as you shake your head like you’re trying to get it off of you.

“he also tried to kiss me that day. but i dodged it. he did grab my butt though, which…i don’t know. guess i wasn’t expecting, but maybe should have in hindsight. he had asked me to wear these leggings and this form fitting shirt…”

sukuna tries to think back to the first time the two of you kissed – to see if there were any inclinations of you pulling away. but he remembers it vividly, the way he pulled you into his lap in your bedroom, pressing kisses into your neck while you were begging him to kiss you full on.

it makes him happy.

but it disgusts him, the second part. that he had dictated what you were going to wear, that he had run his hands over you without asking for permission. and it reminds him of that day, where you were purposely trying to dress to impress him, and thanks the heavens he trusted his instincts and asked you to change.

“the second time, i mustered the courage to kiss him back when he leaned in. and he was kind of…aggressive with it. a lot of the things he did were that way, kind of a lot. i’m more into…the softer things i guess but –”

“i love that.” sukuna states.

you smile.

“yeah?”

“i’m not a fan of that – the aggressiveness.”

sukuna brings his fingertips to your face, thumb brushing down from the bridge to the end of your nose.

“i like to savor it. keep it slow, so…so i can feel it all. commit you to my memory.” sukuna whispers.

your shy smile makes sukuna’s heart skip a beat.

“me too. wanna remember it forever.” you whisper.

sukuna gives you a smile, before nodding for you to continue.

“he talked to me a lot about how…horny he was before we were even dating. but now that we were, it was…something he talked about a lot. and while he never…outright forced me to do something, it was almost like he was wearing me down. first, he…he wanted me to send him nudes. i didn’t like the idea of doing that because he could use them against me so he told me that we should just…facetime and do it, if we had to.” you murmur.

there’s an embarrassment that’s blooming over your skin, images of sneaking downstairs – past sammy and your mom – just so you wouldn’t get caught.

“and i said no. but he asked again and i…i guess i caved. then he was talking about he wanted to take screenshots…because…”

you lean your head back, the embarrassment – the realization that you had done something so utterly stupid that it made you keel back. but this time, sukuna fills the silence. the way you were harshly cutting off the circulation to his hand from squeezing signaled to him that he had to – and he wanted to meet you where you were.

“you’re doing so good, you know that?” sukuna whispers.

there’s a film of tears in your eyes. and you shake your head.

his lips are warm on your forehead, brushing away the frown lines.

“doing so good, angel. so proud of you, you know that?”

you scoff.

“for what? being an idiot?” you murmur.

sukuna’s voice is soft, but adamant.

“don’t.”

you sigh.

“sorry. it’s a habit. i…i don’t actually think i’m an idiot. for any of it, because…i was just a kid. i just wanted someone to like me and–”

“and someone took advantage, sweetheart. that doesn't make you an idiot.”

it makes your chest ache. that he understands it.

“yeah.”

you swallow hard. it's enough to keep you going.

“he told me that i made it really hard for him…to jack off. because i didn’t really wear revealing clothes, which is why he needed the picture. that it would take him hours and that…if he had something it would just make it easier.”

sukuna’s eyes have a murderous glint, but you ignore it for the time being.

“it was kind of a slippery slope after that. because how are nudes different from a screenshot? that he’s my boyfriend so i should trust him and let him save them. that i should take my phone in the shower and call him and…”

you trace the outline of sukuna’s tattoos.

“he’d mask it all in compliments. tell me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and then ask. say that i was the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen before he asked me to get up and send him a picture after i was already in bed.” you state.

sukuna gets it. words of affirmation. mazzy knew it meant the world to you and used it to his advantage.

“we started meeting up after that. and you remember how strict my mom was with sammy and his parents were too…so we’d kind of just…do stuff in my car.”

you frown.

“i’d fight with my mom about it. about how i wanted to drive myself to hangouts. she thought it wasn’t safe, but i’d just…cry so hard about it…because i knew it would disappoint him and i had to go. she’d give in, but…i’d feel like shit after the fact. and whenever we did stuff, it would be blistering hot in the car and his touch was already so…aggressive that i hated it.”

you sigh.

“i’d feel disgusting afterwards. not only because i was caked in sweat or because i did that, but…he’d always call me names. was really into choking and…and i was always scared that my mom would find out when i’d come home looking disheveled or smelling like him. i’d spend hours in the shower trying to scrub the feeling off till i was clean.”

the obsessiveness. sukuna had watched you do it hundreds of times, pricked and prodded at your skin when you felt like you were at your worst. he cups his cheek in your hand, fingers soft on the little blemish on your cheek – and he can’t help but wonder how many times you had picked at it until it bled, scraped off the healing in the name of feeling like his touch was off of you.

you can see sukuna’s eye watering and before you can even prod as to why, he shakes his head.

“there was one time where the security guards of that mall caught us, because i needed to turn the air on in the car. and it was so humiliating, because i wasn’t wearing a shirt and…and they flashed a light on me and started yelling at me. i…i found it hard to take my shirt off after that and…i don’t know. he’d do stuff like that all the time. grope me in public when we were standing against the wall or…at the prom after he didn’t ask me.” you state.

you shake your head.

“anyways, we told people at some point. and people stopped talking to me. he wasn’t a nice guy, he…he had even bullied some of my friends which i found out about later, but…they just didn’t want to associate with him or me by proxy. yuuji was one of the only friends i had during that time, but he was really confused about what was happening too. and he’d ask but…i couldn’t bring myself to tell him because he’d want me to end it then and there. and i would have but–”

you lean your head back.

“he was really unstable. every time he fought with people, he would tell me that he…he'd get so upset and...and punch walls and stuff. and…i felt like it was on me, that his life was in my hands if i didn’t say the right thing. so if i ended things, i’d be leaving him alone – without a lifeline.”

sukuna breaks the silence.

“that’s a big burden to carry at seventeen. feeling like you’re responsible for someone’s wellbeing.”

the recognition makes you cry.

“yeah. it…it is, isn’t it? and-and it was so scary, sukuna. i really thought something bad was going to happen…so i did what i knew would make him feel better.”

sukuna understands. that you were able to give it up and do the one thing you hated doing just to make him feel good, to satiate his needs.

you shake your head.

“anyways, it went on like that for the rest of the year. almost all of the memories from that year are colored dark – because he either did something bad or was mad at me. my eighteenth birthday, my graduation. and around july, i…i had found something bad.”

sukuna tilts his head to the side.

“i was curious one day, so…so i decided to look my dad up. it had been years since he had gone but i just wanted to see. and i found a yelp review for his company and just searched that woman’s name up who left it.”

“sukuna…my dad had been cheating on my mom. for a really long time. there were pictures and…vacations and all this stuff while my mom was like…taking loans from your mom just to buy us clothes and–”

sukuna’s perceptive. and you’re endlessly thankful about it in this moment, just because you don't have to say it.

“he cheated on you, didn’t he? just like your dad did on your mom?” sukuna whispers.

“yeah. i had asked him not to, begged him even, and i-i found out the same way. when he left for college, he’d been so distant that i had started stalking all his followers, just to see what he was up to. and he was…commenting pick up lines on this girl's account.”

you tuck your head into his neck.

“when he came back for break, he told me that he was confused but…but we still did stuff. he broke up with me two days after that.”

sukuna brings his hands up around your waist, pulling you up till you’re straddling him and secured in his lap. you’re stifling your sobs into his neck, his hands warm on your back as he leans his head against yours.

“our anniversary was on december first. i had sent him a gift, this custom made expensive necklace he wanted, and…and two days after the fact i found out that while i was ordering that online, paying same day shipping, he was on a date with her.” you state.

sukuna sighs, pulling you in closer.

“he sent me pictures of their date. because we were still friends. he’d tell me how i was going to be important to him forever, and…tell me all about her. how perfect her family was, how smart she was…that she even matched his sex drive more and–”

you sigh.

“we talked on and off for that year. whenever he came home for break, we’d basically talk all the time – but i figured out later that it was only because of the time difference and that his girlfriend was asleep. and the time that we did spend talking, it was him talking about how he felt like such a dick for how he treated me. and every time, i’d-i’d reassure him that it was okay, that i didn’t mind it.”

“still using you to make himself feel good, huh?”

“yeah. isn’t that….so fucking stupid?”

sukuna sighs.

“that’s very cruel, y/n.”

you pull back, the full depth of the word hitting you as you look at his eyes, brown and washed over in hurt. not pity – because you had seen that droop hundreds of times, but…in recognition. you reach forward, cupping his face.

“very cruel.” you whisper back.

“that’s heartbreaking. you’re a very earnest person and for someone to take advantage of this –”

sukuna reaches forward, pointing at your chest, before he crosses on it again – like the promise he made earlier – and continues talking.

“– of your beautiful heart is brutal, y/n. of course, you felt the way you did about it. anyone would.”

you nod, reaching forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“i hope you know i’ll spend a lifetime trying to mend this with you, whatever that looks like.” sukuna whispers.

“sukuna–” you whisper.

“i’ve always seen you as what you are – a girl. in fact, the only girl for me.”

it’s almost painful. that sukuna’s repeating every word back to you, but the other way. in the way you had wanted when you were seventeen, when you were so desperate to love someone.

“you’re the only person that i’ve ever considered, for something this serious. i know i’ve dated other girls and slept around but…i’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

sukuna reaches forward, taking your hand into his and placing it flat against his chest, over his beating heart.

“s’yours. all yours, for as long as you want it.”

you cross on his heart, which has him breaking out into a smile.

“there’s my pretty girl…come here, yeah?” he whispers, gesturing for you to scoot closer, till you’re faces are only a few feet apart.

and the way he scans his eyes over your face makes your chest hurt – with such attentiveness, with such adoration as he continues murmuring his sweet nothings.

“i’ve always loved your style. i think you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen – i love when you frown at me and pretend to be mad and when you sleep with your mouth open.”

you roll your eyes, sparing him a teary laugh.

“i do not.”

“yes, you do. but anyways–”

“no i don’t!”

“baby, i’ve watched you sleep. your mouth is wide open, like you’re going to catch flies.”

“okay, edward cullen. why are you watching me sleep?”

sukuna smiles.

“you look at peace. i love it.”

you shake your head, as he continues.

“you…you drive me crazy.”

he drops his hands down your back, the touch making you shiver.

“but you’re going to call the shots. we’re...we’re going to do what you like. when you’re ready for it and –”

“i meant what i said earlier. i’m ready.” you state.

“i’d wait years if you needed me to.”

you smile.

“i know. but i want you too. and– you…you’re everything to me.”

sukuna smiles back.

“never want you to put your own needs to the side for me, ‘kay? i’d never expect you to do that. you don’t need to sit in sweltering cars or…or get up from bed for me. i’ll always be there after – washing your hair and tucking you into bed and –”

you lean forward, cupping his face, as you press a kiss to his lips. it’s warm and sweet, mixed with a mess of your tears – and him murmuring against your lips.

“angel–” he whispers.

“what?” you murmur back, whispering onto his lips.

“i’ll write you hundreds of letters. i’ll buy you nice gifts on our anniversary and it’ll be just you and me. make you a playlist with all my favorite songs, listen to all of yours. i'll even get a shitty cat if you want one that bad.”

you pull back, shifting your gaze from his left eye to the right and then back to the left. it’s the jump again – the same one you made last time.

when you promise someone your heart, when you begin to cross your heart on someone else’s.

"cat? really?"

sukuna glares.

"of course that's what you fixate on."

you smile.

“do you really mean it?”

sukuna reaches forward, crossing on your chest. you return the gesture.

“always. you’re everything to me.”

you poke at his dimples. you’ll leap – for him.

“does this change things?” you ask.

sukuna pulls you closer.

“it helps me understand you better. makes me love you more, because you’re the strongest person i know. has me filled with pride because you won’t let bad things, or experiences, change how good your heart is.”

you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands.

“don’t flatter me. you’re going to make it impossible for me to leave, ryomen.”

you can see it – the glint in his eyes when you use his given name. and the ear splitting smile that follows makes you ache as he leans forward and closes the gap.

“that sounds like the perfect scenario to me.”

the following morning, sukuna leaves early for work. but you find a perfectly plated breakfast and a letter sitting on the counter.

seven pages worth of sukuna and his sweet words – and an embarrassingly cute story about the camping trip you took years ago.

(you ask satoru to corroborate the story after. and he spells it out in full detail, about how in his drunkenness, sukuna told the group of them about your night together in the camping bag.)

next part linked here

an: anyways. lore. no one look at me - and big fluff chapter after this one, trust.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @gyros-cum-sock @wishmeme l @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

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undeadcannibal · 11 months

Note

Your honor I'd like to propose an amendment to the 🍆 head cannon post:

Curvature and distinguishing colors, features? Are they darker or the same shade? Lighter? Hair color? Texture? Who's got a lean? 🥎⚾s?

Summary: More requested ‘N.SF.T’ headcanons for Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and König~ Part 2 of this post here!

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and König.

Warnings: explicit content!

A/N: Never did I expect for that other post to become as popular as it did. I’m happy y’all enjoy my gross and overly-detailed headcanons. Also, please note, if any of you happen to not like or find any of my hcs to be gross or not what you expected, keep in mind they’re just my headcanons. Don’t take ‘em seriously, dudes. Weird and rude replies will be deleted. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Gaz―

Not much of a curve to it, honestly, he’s pretty straight curvature wise. Distinguishing colors? I’d say his foreskin is the same as his skin tone overall, tip-wise? I’m thinking it’s a bit darker than the color of his lips and flushes an even deeper color when he’s fully aroused, mhm. Hair color of his pubes is dark and also has a some curl and texture to it when he does let it grow out for some time. Balls, too? Hm... I’d say Kyle’s sporting a nice, snug set he prefers to keep smooth and clean more often than not.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that he adores you paying extra special attention to his balls. Worship them and he’ll be cumming all over your face in no time~

Ghost―

Slight upward curve that stimulates you in the best of ways. IDC what anyone says, man has a mouthwatering cock with a nice flesh-pink tip and anyone can fight me on it. Probably slightly darker than his overall skin tone but not by much. Pubic hair stuff... I’m torn between him being a natural dirty blond or brunet. (I can’t remember where I saw the fanart from, but someone has a headcanon that he bleaches his brunet hair blond and oof, I’m in love, also give him long ass roots since he can’t keep up with his root touch-ups while out on missions) Straight-ish texture to his hair as well, grows pretty smoothly altogether. THIS MAN has a thick vein running down the middle of his shaft, my lord. And finally, for his balls, I’m thinking he’s got a hefty set that he’s quick to push you down to so you can pay them some attention, expect some light tickling from the hair there, too. uwu

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he struggles with being submissive and prefers being dominant the majority of the time due to his trauma. He doesn’t like the idea of submitting to someone -- he’s far too afraid of what kind of consequences it could possibly have for him. This doesn’t mean he’s a sadistic or strict Dom. If anything, he’s hyper aware of your reactions to every little thing he does, also refuses anything hard or physical against you, he detests the thought of causing his partner pain.

Price―

Leans ever so slightly to the right, isn’t too noticeable though. Since he’s circumcised in my previous post, could probably notice a scar that separates light flesh-tone color of his shaft from the faint pink of his tip. Also, despite him preferring to trim his facial hair specifically, I’d see him as going fully natural bush-wise. Man’s got a lovely cushion of brown hair that’s got just the faintest amount of gray speckled throughout. While he looks very textured, I personally think his hair would be soft af. Large set of balls that droops a bit lower now than when he was younger~

Bonus! Kink headcanon for John is - if you’re willing - he’d love to use you as an ashtray when he’s smoking. He’d light up, take a few puffs, than order you to open your mouth so he could tap the ashes off onto your tongue. Ordering you to keep your mouth open so he can see the black and grey specks of ash decorating your tongue before having you swallow.

Soap―

Has just the slightest upward curve to him, definitely jokes it’s great for helping stimulate his partner’s g-spot. Also knows all the best camera angles for top-tier dick pics. Shade darker than his natural skin tone and also has a smidge of hair going up the bottom of his shaft. Doesn’t mind in the slightest though. As mentioned before, he prefers going all natural and doesn’t shave or trim much. Lord, the amount of hair this man has. Has treasure trail, hair thighs, ass, groin, everything. Sorry, I love hairy men, what can I say? Also, when he’s super pent up, his tips turns a deep ruddy shade you love to see every time. Balls are on the larger side with one being slightly smaller than the other, also very sensitive and will have him turning into a whimpering mess if you pay special attention to them.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he takes every spare chance he can get to take and send nudes and videos of him jacking off. Doing his best to make those sounds you love whilst trying not to get caught by anyone. Those moments are for your eyes and your eyes only~

Rodolfo―

Sobbing because his cock is the same gorgeous shade as the rest of his skin, although can see the head of his cock and his balls being a tad darker. Maybe has a tad lean towards the left. Has trimmed dark hair that feels amazing beneath your fingertips. Balls are a bit on the larger side. Run your tongue over them and his dick will be twitching above your face in no time, also will draw up tight to him when he’s cumming~ Please spread this man’s thighs apart, he’s got beauty marks for days and will fucking tremble if you kiss and run your tongue over them!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he’s got such a praise kink when it comes to his partners. The hottest thing in the world for him is for him to be showering his partner with compliments, feeling them clench tightly around him as his words register in their pleasured-addled minds.

Alejandro―

Much like Rudy, he’s a beautiful shade of tan all throughout, and his cock head is just as flushed and ruddy when he’s aroused. Much like Rudy, has a lean but his is the exact opposite, veering to Also is hairy just like Soap, but nowhere near to the same degree. If anything, man’s sporting a thick bush, hairy thighs, and legs. Also another man sporting thick veins throughout the length of him that he’s more sensitive about being touched than he’d like to admit. Large set of balls that do sag a bit but doesn’t mind in the slightest definitely likes to teabag his partner as a result if they allow him to

Bonus! Kink headcanon for our man is that he’s a sucker for sloppy oral, giving or receiving, but especially receiving. Nothing excites him more than seeing how ruined and messy he can make your face as he fucks it.

König―

Doesn’t really have much of a curve or lean to him, but rest assured he’s got veins for days lining his shaft. And, if you run your tongue along them, he melts on the spot. Perfect male whimpering audio material <3 The color of him is noticeably darker than the rest of him. That, combined with his beautiful sandy colored curls make for a mouthwatering view. Also has large, yet tight balls that are far more sensitive than he’d like. Overstimulate the big guy right now!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that due to his size all around, he’s grown to have a liking for size difference with his partner being smaller than his. It’s pretty easy given his height, but more so it drives him feral to see his cock bulging his partner’s belly out with every thrust he gives.

#john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #könig x reader #call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #los vaqueros x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #'nsft'#opened mail #requests #my writing #lordsexmachine

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

First time Iris stays over the whole night with Jake, and he’s trying to figure out all the ways to make it happen again. Maybe he brings her breakfast in bed?

I feel like Jake & Iris experience a lot of first together. But especially the whole next morning after the first full night together after they become ‘exclusive’ I.R.I.S Masterlist Here.

Warnings: Smut! Jake Seresin x F!mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

After about a two hour debate, a solid rebuttal and a flawless conclusion as to why you should be let into the TopGun program again, Beau Simpson ultimately caved and gave you one final shot. He gave you one chance to prove that you could keep a lid on your temper, you’d admit that you knew you had to work on that. Guess hot headed egos ran in the family. But you made sure not to leave until you’d heard that Cyclone would take back the command he’d given to have your points pulled. He did, internal investigation be damned.

“The only reason I mouthed off in the first place was because you held a gun to my back, sir—“ You explained as Cyclone looked at you with an expressionless face. “You know I’m better than those guys, who my dad is shouldn’t mean shit—it’s not like he helped me get here?” You couldn’t have said anything more perfect, Cyclone raised a single brow your way, you were right. Pete Mitchell had never offered you a helping hand your entire career. “Fuck Bradshaw got more of a handout than I did! He’s a gold star! That’s nepotism too and Goose isn’t even around!” It was a dog shot, but in your case you needed every ounce of leverage.

“Okay, okay—I hear what you're saying, Lieutenant, I’ll expunge the record.” Tickled pink, you beamed, ecstatic you’d been able to plead your case and enter back into the program. “You Mitchell’s age me ten years every month I swear—“

“I still don’t think I should have to suppress myself because of what those idiots think of me. You would survive through this knowing one day your rage would truly be witnessed by the men who poisoned you with it in the first place. “But I’ll do it if that’ll appease them—“

“They’re a sensitive bunch I’ve noticed.” Cyclone smirked for a millisecond of time as you sat across from him at his desk—looking all kinds of like your father. Just a little scarier and a lot more unpredictable. “But it’s more to keep you in check than anything else, I’ll scratch your back and keep any allegations of nepotism off your back if you scratch mine and keep your nose clean and out of trouble, understood?”

It was game time. You were back in business and you were heading back to Jakes to celebrate such a victorious moment. Because fucking a superior officer didn’t correlate with keeping your nose clean and out of trouble did it?

“In abundance, Sir, you have my word.” But first? It was off to the Hard Deck.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’mnothometonight—“ You practically said it without so much as a second in between words. It all came out against your dads cheek in one single moment as you kissed him goodbye and headed towards the front door with a bag full of stuff slung over your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Woah woah?” Pete frowned as he looked up from his book, perched on his favourite recliner enjoying a good cup of tea. He was in full relaxation mode. “Where are you off to?” You’d prepared for this moment, you knew there was a chance Mav would ask you where you were going. So you’d already come up with a cover story to get you out of the house.

“My friends in town, Lily? She got a hotel room up at the gorge.”

“You didn’t tell her she could just stay here?”

“What? And have you all up in my business?” You groaned. “I’m not sixteen anymore dad, I’m an adult—I’ve got my work gear with me so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Pete just looked at you over the top of his reading glasses, something was up, something was incredibly up here and he knew better than to trust your word. Why? Because you were his damn daughter.

“Alright well just don’t go crazy, you fly a multi million dollar fighter jet for a living—keep your wits about yourself on a Wednesday night, kid.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you wanted to as you grabbed your keys from the key bowl near the front door.

“Bye dad, love ya guts.” You chuckled to yourself as you left, did you feel bad about lying to Mav? Not entirely. It was for his own good. The poor guy would have a heart attack if he knew what you were up to and who you were doing.

But did you feel any ounce of regret? No—because Jake Seresin was the perfect amount of thrill, the perfect high, the perfect rush to any thrill seeker. And you were addicted.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake knew you were coming over so he did his best to freshen up the place. That’s not to say his house wasn't clean–because it was. But he lit a candle and fluffed the pillows on the lounge and spent a little longer than he would ever like to admit researching what was the correct way for toilet paper to roll. Over and under he still didn't know. He went under.

“I parked down the street–” You made sure to tell Jake as he opened the door for you. “Mav grilled me pretty hard when I told him I was heading out for the night so I thought it was probably a good idea.”

“Hi to you too Iris.” Jake chuckled as you walked on it.

“Hi Hangman–” You cooed. Turning on your heels as you dropped your bag off your shoulder.” You look. Good.”

“Oh I am good Iris–” Jake smirked wildly as he backed you up against the wall in the entryway. Leaning on the cream painted dividing wall with his hands on either side of you, trapping you there against him. “I'm very good, but I'm even better now that you’re here.” Jake maintained his gaze as you drank in the sight of him, dropping your hands to play at the waistband of his sweatpants. Exposing the elastic band of his boxer briefs. “It's good to see you.” It was a nod to Jake's declaration that he was officially seeing someone, Hangman was off the market and very much invested in the entanglement he had going on with none other than Pete Mitchell's incredibly hot headed and beautiful daughter.

“You just saw me when I demolished you at pool.”

“Ah, ah, correct yourself there Iris, you mean when I let you demolish me at pool.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night there deadman–” Jake was the one who leaned in first, connecting his lips with yours in a fever dream kiss. His hands made quick work to cup your cheeks, spreading your legs further apart with his foot against yours. “Jake–” You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands came down to find its way into your sweat pants. Both wearing grey, just in different fonts.

“I wanna try something, but you gotta trust me.” Jake had a wicked glare in his eyes as he ducked his hand into your pants. The gentle motion he used to spread your lips apart and find the sweet, sweet spot that needed all his attention made you forget how to breathe. “Do you trust me Iris?” Jake asked as he slowly but surely worked the pads of two of his digits against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come on baby, tell me you trust me?”

“I trust you–” You sighed out, rolling your hips as Jake used his fingers to expertly guide you towards your first orgasm. You weren't there yet, you weren't even close. But you were going to be very soon if Jake kept going exactly how he was. “Fuck, yes, I trust you–”

It was all Jake needed as he pulled his hand out from your pants and scooped you up. With a gasp you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist as he connected his lips to your once more and walked you to the living room. His bedroom was too far away, he needed you now and the lounge would just have to do. As he dropped you down carefully, Jake stood over you. He said one word that made you soak your panties right through, but it wasn't like you were going to need them anyway.

“Strip–” You didn’t hesitate as you saluted your Lieutenant Commander almost seductively.

“Yes sir.”

In a needy and almost giddy fashion, both you and Jake stripped down, articles of clothing were discarded in not so respectable piles on the floor before Jake was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head as he kissed up and down the expanse of your next, leading down to your exposed chest to take you nipples in his mouth one by one.

“God your tits are perfect, you’re perfect baby.” Jake mumbled as he looked up at you looking down at him with your tit in his mouth. It was truly a sight that made you feral. “Now I'm usually one for foreplay, you know me, but we’re gonna do things a little differently tonight.” Jake stated a matter of factly as he sat back and pumped himself a few times, just thinking about what he was about to do. He needed to confirm his suspicion because the unknown was killing him. “I know you're ready for me though–” It was true, you were, and as Jake jerked himself off, you reached out to help guide him down between your legs.

“Need you, now.” Slowly, inch by inch, Jake buried himself inside you. Watching as your jaw slacked and your eye rolled as you stretched and welcomed him to the hilt. “Ohh yess–”

“Fuck you’re so perfect, such a perfect cunt Iris.'' Jake made sure to kiss the pulse point at the juncture of your neck as he throbbed away inside you. Staying still for a second before he began to rock his hips. “Holy shit so good–”

“Love your cock so fucking much–ahh!” It felt so good to be so full, but this wasn't what Jake needed to do. He needed to call someone, he needed to fuck you while he called someone to see if he had really formulated a connection, if the idea of really loosing every he had got him off to a new extreme. Jake had called it the Mitchell effect, and he was as deep inside it as he could get. “What are you doing?”

Jake reached out to the coffee table, not once slowly his thrust as he grabbed his phone.

“Shhh–” Jake manoeuvred the two of you into a different position, he made it all look so easy with strong arms encapsulating you and putting you wherever he wanted, wherever he needed you. Where he wanted you was on his lap, warming his cock as you slowly rode his shaft, still with a curious expression on your face as Jake pressed the name in his phone that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing when he turned the phone around to show you who he was calling.

Maverick:

“Oh my god! Jake no what are you—!” Within seconds of your heart sinking into your stomach Jake sat forward to press a palm against your mouth. With wide eyes and a soft moan you looked at him as if he were crazy. He was, he was crazy because he was with you.

“Shhh, don’t let daddy know you're riding me baby.” Jake's phone rang once, twice, three times on loud speaker. “You wouldn’t want Mav finding out his daughter is a little whore now would you?” It made your core tighten around Jake's cock as he thrust into you. Keeping a hand over your mouth and squishing your nose. “Would you?” Jake was waiting for you to give him a response, you nodded softly as the fourth ring rang out and your dads voice came through the phone.

“Hangman—“ Pete’s voice was gruff as he answered the phone. “What’s up man? Is everything okay?”

“Hey Mav—“ Jake replied as casually as he could as he fucked up into your tight little pussy, your arousal dripping down his shaft like to tomorrow as he kept a palm pressed harshly over your mouth. “Yeah nah everything’s good, I was just ringing to see if Iris had any luck with Cyclone today?” It was a question Jake could have asked you, it was a question he could have asked you at the Hard Deck even—or asked Pete! But he wanted to wait, wait until you were riding his cock. “I didn’t get a chance to catch you.”

Jake placed his phone down beside him on the lounge as he pulled you forward against his chest, reminding you to keep quiet before he pulled his hand away from your mouth. Mouthing a silent ‘keep quiet’ your way before he took your arms and wrapped them behind your back.

“Yeah, yeah she said he’s gonna give her another chance, so long as she keeps a lid on your attitude and doesn’t get into any mischief.” Mav laughed to himself all the while Jake placed his feet firmly on the ground as he held your hip with your hand and your forearms behind your back with the other and fucked up into you. Deep and harsh.

“Oh yeah that’s real good isn’t it.” Jake smirked as he buried himself inside you. “She’s a good kid man, didn’t deserve that—“

Against Jake shoulder you sunk your teeth into golden skin to stop yourself from singing out in utter euphoria. This was wrong, so fucking wrong yet you felt like every nerve ending in your body had been set alight. Jake could feel you tightening around him, your velvet walls took him in without mercy and threatened to keep his length hostage.

“She is, just do me a favour and don’t give her any special treatment?” Mav added. “People know you’re like family, just like Rooster, if she slips up you pull her up no questions no hesitation.”

“You have my word Mav, no special treatment for little miss Mitchell.” Jake could feel his orgasm barreling towards him as he let go of your arms and let you sit up. Gripping your hips as tight as he could as he lifted his own and fucked harder and deeper and faster into you as you threw your head back and cupped at your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming. “Anyway, I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Seeya tomorrow Jake, have a good night.” Mav signed off as Jake hung up with the single press of a button. The moment you knew the call was over you cried out into the heavens above.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!” You hissed as you and Jake toppled from the lounge to the floor. “Ahh god I’m gonna cum, fuck!!!” You cried as Jake fell on top of you. Wrapping you in his arms as he continued to fuck you with force. He was so close.

Damn—his suspension was true. He had formed a connection. Fuck.

“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna fill this little cunt of yours baby.” Jake babbled to himself as he reached between the two of you, rubbing small circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Cum for me Iris, cum with me, cum on my cock beautiful I know you want to.”

“Jake! Fuck yes yes don’t stop!” It was nearly overwhelming but you were there. You got there in the end and with a moan that could have only escaped from God's golden gates, you came as hard as you ever had as Jake spilled himself inside you. “Ahhhh god yes!!”

“Fuck my life I’m screwed—“ Jake sighed and he buried his head in your chest. Kissing along the curves of your swollen breasts. “I’m so fucking done for.”

“Jake?” You sighed, both panting heavily as you came down from your respective highs.

“Yeah babe?” Jake looked at you, with golden hair clinging to his forehead and sweat coating his body, making him glistening in the dim light of his living room.

“You have three seconds to get off me before I fucking kill you for that.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

When you woke up in Jake’s bed to see he wasn't there, wrapped in the mess of tangled sheets next to you. Your heart sank for a brief second. The slight nervousness was quickly replaced by reassurance and the smell of bacon and eggs and what could only be the undeniable notes of burnt raisin toast. You weren't alone–Jake was just in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

He’d never cooked breakfast for anyone the morning after, because you were the first woman he’d ever wanted to cook breakfast for the morning after and he wanted to do it over and over and over again.

“Mornin–” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and padded into the kitchen. One of Jake's crew neck jumpers had become your attire of choice. It smelt like him in all the best ways. Notes of creamy vanilla and aged bourbon from his time at the Hard Deck, fresh ripe pear and hints of beautiful freesia coated the fibres of the navy crew–his scent of choice for cologne.

“Hi–” Jake sent you a smile when he caught sight of you. Bed hair looking all kinds of messed up and unruly, no makeup–although you never really wore much to begin with. His jumper adorning your body just barely covering your ass. The sleeves were a little long on you which made it even easier for the fabric to just encompass you. “You sleep well?”

“You run hot like a furnace.'' Jake chuckled softly as you came to wrap your arms around his mid second from behind, pressing your cheek into the warmth of his exposed back. “But I quite liked it.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the sound of bacon sizzling away in the frying pan babbled away. “You make enough for two?”

“I didn't know how you liked your eggs so I just guessed.” There was a soft hume creeping across the apples of Jake's cheeks as he felt you unwrap your arms from his mid second. “Hope over easy is alright, and there's coffee in the pot.”

“Man of my dreams.” You sighed as you padded over to the coffee pot, working to pour yourself some liquid energy into the mug Jake had gotten out for you. “You treat all hookups with this kinda bed and breakfast service?” There had been a definite shift in your dynamic with Jake recently. Things were becoming real, serious, all consuming and suddenly it wasn't just sex. There were feelings here, real and raw emotions the two of you didn't exactly know how to navigate.

But there was no harm in being honest.

“Uh, no–actually.” Jake turned to face you, a pair of tongs in his hand as the other came up to rub the back of his head nervously. “I actually haven't cooked breakfast for someone before, you know, after–”

“Oh.” You caught what Jake was trying to imply. “I'm uh, honoured then, I guess.” As you took a sip of the coffee you'd just poured yourself and held the warm mug in the palms of your hands. You sauntered back over to where Jake stood with his low hanging sweatpants and his morning wood bulging through. “I'm very honoured actually, so much so I might just go back to bed with this amazing coffee and settle back in and wait–”

“Wait for what exactly?” Jake questioned as he dipped down to take your lips hostage with his for a fleeting moment. Pulling you closer by the small of your back.

“For you to bring me breakfast in bed.” You smirked, walking two of your fingers up the expanse of Jake's chest. “I'm still a little tired from last night, Lieutenant Commander–” Jake felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him, he felt his whole world shift when you swiped your tongue across his lip to gain access to his mouth. He let you in with ease as he followed your lead and deepened the kiss. Only to feel you pull away seconds later. “Breakfast in bed, you me?” It was an open invite for Jake to join you, the corners of his lips curled into a cheshire cat grin as he nodded.

You really had become someone of import to Jake. Your weren’t just Mavs daughter anymore. You weren’t just Mavs daughter that Jake was messing around with. You were exclusive, dating, you were officially unofficial because no one knew. So as you smiled up at Jake, wearing his crew neck in his kitchen drinking coffee from his mug? He thought maybe you were worth all the risks that came along with being with you.

Because being with you made Jake Seresin feel more alive than flying ever had.

“Give me five minutes and it's a date.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Good Morning aviators, this is your captain speaking–” Maverick had somewhat coined this Basic fighter manoeuvres speech since he'd first done it with the dagger squad who were all now his friends and respected colleagues, some as it would turn out, were a hell of a lot closer to family than he thought. “Welcome to basic fighter manoeuvres–as briefed earlier, today's exercise is dogfighting.” If there was one thing about your dad you did admire, it was his ability to seamlessly and effortlessly get under your skin without even trying. “Guns only–no missiles.” He knew you were out for blood, he knew you were set on seeking revenge and this was his way of promptly and professionally telling you to pull your head in before he smacked it off your shoulders. “We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet, working as a team, you have to shoot me and Lieutenant Commander Seresin down, or else.”

“Or else what, Sir?” P:E smirked into the comms as you rolled your eyes. You knew, it was kinda a drag that you knew your dad like the back of your own hand. You were one in the same. You knew because well, if it was you in Pete Mitchell's shoes you'd be just as cocky, if not worse.

“Or else we shoot back–” Jake's voice came in hot and strong through the comms and the thought of taking him down a peg in such an exercise that could see you back in the game if you did had your whole pussy throbbing as your grip tightened around your throttle. “If we shoot either one of you down, you both lose.” Putting Jake Seresin in his place in the sky was your number one priority, especially after the stunt he pulled last night calling your dad.

“This guy needs an ego check.” Back on land in the rec room, Bradley Bradshaw had never experienced a case of deja vu harder in his life as Rebound rolled his eyes and puffed his chest. “We’ll see to that, won’t we boys?”

“Hangman, for a while there fellas, was the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.” Rooster didn't even look up from the written assessments he was grading on what it means to be a good TopGun pilot. He could tell right from the get go whose response he was reading before he even looked at the name. “He’ll be sure to make you work for it today, you can count on that.”

“Did anyone notice Iris was back in Normex this morning?” Lieutenant Davie ‘Trash’ White asked as he stuffed his face with a protein bar he’d just brought from the vending machine, he always needed something in his stomach before a flight. Something small and light and that would keep him full for a while because he wasn't gonna wanna eat for some time after landing. “Didn't take daddy dearest long at all to step in and pull the ‘But she's my daughter’ card on Cyclone.” Bradley's ears grew hot as he tried to mind his business. He couldn't help but to listen as the guys who all sat around waiting for their turn ragged on you. All taking turns obliterating your self worth, your value. “The fucks that about? I thought she quit the program after Hangman dragged her into Cyclones office for a double-teamed spanking?”

“She's wasting her time, as if the Admirals would allow a Mitchell to take TopGun, they barely let Mav himself back on sight after his stint.” Coen ‘Rebound” Rhodes smirked to himself as he flipped through one of the old aviation textbooks on the bookshelf. “I would've just taken the spanking.” Rooster, as professional as he was, was a prankster, a grade A shit stirrer just like his dad had been. He’d brought the nerf gun to piss of Coyote but in all honesty, the childrens toy that say in the bottom drawer of the study desk he was currently sitting at came in handy right about now as he pulled it out, loaded it silently and sent a single bullet flying into the middle of Coens big ass forehead. “Aye! What was that for?”

“I found out how you got your callsign the other day, just how the hell you ended up here really makes me question the state of the US Navy.” The group of aviators all chuckled and laughed at Braldey Bradshaw's comment that made Rebound go silent. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what Iris stands for, don't let her out of your sight because the second you do it's over for you lot and me and all the other guys around here don't need your poor performances to prove that she's already a shoo in for this, despite your ugly ass tactics to get her to bail on herself.”

“You know. I don’t think I like what you're insinuating there Rooster—“ Coen snarked as he stood his ground with his arms crossed over his chest. Fanboy was only just now coming in to gather the next group ready for preflight. “Sounds an awful lot like you're defending someone who you see as a sister to me?” Everyone went silent as Rebound thought he’d gained the upper hand, he hadn’t. There was an awful lot Bradley Bradshaw could put up with in life, but listening to people degrade his family, the small select few he had left, was not something he could tolerate in a professional or personal environment.

“You won’t like the foot that’ll go up your ass in three point five seconds if you don’t act your rank, Lieutenant.” Bradley fired another nerf bullet Rebounds way as he smirked and watched the sorry excuse of an aviator duck for cover. “Sit down and shut up before I report you for misconduct.”

“Ill take him off your hands, Rooster–” Mickey chuckled. “You too krod.” Spell it backwards and you'll understand why Levi ‘Krod’ Henderson was such a huge dork. “Up in twenty, on my time so move it or lose it lads.” Mickey sent Rooster a nod that asked if he was good. Bradley nodded back, explaining in a single motion that he was in fact, okay.

Just don't ask him to tell you that he knew for a fact Pete had pulled your name from the TopGun poll of potential candidates on at least three separate occasions because he knew that you'd get coined as the nepotism baby like no other person. Did Rooster agree with Mavs tactics, no– he didn't. But much like his own struggles with Mav pulling his papers for the Naval Academy, he grew to understand the motive behind his actions.

He just wanted to protect his daughter.

“What was that about?” Mickey asked as he walked over to where Bradley sat, watching as he stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan. Dropping his weapon in the process.

“Oh I don’t even know at this point, Iris has me all kinds of worked up as of late.” Bradley tried to shrug it off. “She doesn’t make it easy to defend her when she’s fucking around with Hangman and mouthing off to admrials and—“

“Woah woah woah, back up, Iris and Jake?” Mickey leaned over the desk Bradley was sitting at. “The hell are you talking about Rooster?” Bradley hadn’t even noticed what he’d said before it was too late to take it back. He looked at Fanboy like a deer caught in headlights.

Fuck.

“Fanboy you can’t tell a soul!” Rooster hissed as he stood, looking around the now empty rec room as he ran his hands through his hair. “Fucking hell and for the love of everything that’s good in this world don’t tell Mav!”

“Tell Mav what!? I don’t even know what you mean by Iris and Jake!” Mickey shouted through gritted teeth, he could already feel himself burning up. His Abuela would kill him if she knew he was harbouring secret scandals like this. “Are they sleeping together?”

“Worse—“ Bradley sighed. “They’re dating.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

#iris // jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fic

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d4yl1ghts · 23 days

Note

ok so, i’m such a Peeta girlie so i’m honestly constantly daydreaming about him so i have so many writing ideas, but here’s my favorite idea from today, so modern au where Peeta and reader are teenagers and best friends (basically attached at the hip) and over the summer, they get like one of those crappy, cute kids camera with the bad quality and take photos documenting their summer. but over the summer, they start falling for each other. but they have moments like sneaking out at night to do either adorable stuff like watching the stars or random stuff like late night drives where they sit in the truck and talk while eating fast food. LIKE I NEED THIS SO BAD!!!! but please, i beg cause i love your writing-

summer love

peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: it’s finally summer and so you can spend as much time with your best friend, peeta, as possible but what happens when you begin to catch feelings for him and he for you?

It was the first week of the summer holidays and today you had arranged to meet Peeta to go on a picnic in this gorgeous field by a river. As you walked over to a flat spot beside the river and placed a blanket and your food down, you failed to notice Peeta coming up behind you. He grabbed your sides and started tickling you. You screamed in response and then started laughing and hitting him.

“Look what I brought, Y/N.”, he showed off his polaroid camera. “That’s such a good idea! I love you so much!”, you stated as you hugged him. You meant this platonically right now, but in a few weeks everything would change. He began unpacking his food from his backpack. “Shall we take a photo?”, he offered. “Sure.”, you smiled and so did he as you heard the camera click. It automatically printed the pictures out.

As you were analysing the picture, you didn’t see Peeta sneak up behind you. He picked you up and threw you in the river and even had the guts to take a photo of you in the river. “Mellark, when I get you.”, you threatened. He ran away as you rung out your hair. Once he had returned, he decided to jump in anyway because he felt bad about pushing you in. He canon-balled in dramatically and you snapped a photo of him as he did so.

You eventually ate the food but you were still soaking wet.

That was one week ago, you were going to the mall with him now. You didn’t really need anything, nor did he but it’s always fun to wander around looking at all the shops. “Peeta!”, you yelled as you saw him walking along. “Hi, Y/N.”, he said smiling. The two of you pottered around until you found a cute coffee shop. “Let’s go in there, I’m hungry.”, you lead him in. You ordered a frappe and he ordered a hot chocolate. “This is delicious.”, he stated as you awaited your food. “Is hot chocolate your go-to drink, I swear you get that everytime?”, you asked. He chuckled and responded with a soft “yeah”.

You found a small table in the corner of the cafe and you placed your croissant on the table as Peeta placed his pain au chocolat. You bit into your croissant: “Peeta, this is no where near as nice as the stuff in your bakery.”, you mentioned. He took a bite out of his. “This is so good, just because I made some at the bakery doesn’t mean they’re nicer than this.”, he replied. “You’re being modest now, Peet.”

For another two hours, you plodded around the shops and every so often went into one. You went into a random small clothes shop and found a bright pink jacket for Peeta to wear. “Pose, Peeta.”, you said as he put it on. You took a photo of him. “Now you need to find a jacket.”, he stated. He walked all around the store searching for something appropriate. “Here.”, he returned. It was a mustard yellow glittery one. “Pose, Y/N.”, he repeated your words as he took your picture.

Today you were meant to be picking Peeta up to go for a night drive. It was currently midnight and so you drove to Peeta’s house. You gently knocked on his door. He answered the door with the camera in his hands and snacks in the other hand. You got back in your car as did he. “Should we get McDonalds as well?”, he asked. “Yeah, of course.”, you headed to the nearest one which was luckily only ten minutes away. You ordered a chicken burger and he ordered chicken nuggets and you both got chips obviously with a drink.

You finally arrived at your destination which was on the side of a secluded mountain which fortunately had a car park so you could park and there were no other people there. It would be so peaceful here. You opens the boot and set out some blankets and pillows for you to rest on. Peeta brought the food and things around. You wrapped yourself up in a blanket and Peeta copied your actions. “Picture?”, he questioned whilst holding the camera up. “Yes!”

You posed with a thumbs up and he smiled. “Look at the stars.”, Peeta mentioned. “They’re beautiful.”, he added. “I know.”, you responded. Peeta turned to look at you, opening his mouth but he didn’t say anything. He turned back to look at the stars. “This is so random, but do you remember when we were thirteen and you slipped on some water and fell down a whole flight of stairs.”, you giggled fondly. “How did you not get a concussion?”, you asked humorously. “I have no clue.”, he laughed with you.

“Do you remember when we had to run out of Starbucks because you accidentally broke the table when you put your food on it?”, he chuckled as he remembered it vividly. “There was something wrong with that table because I’m telling you that a packet of crisps wouldn’t break a whole table.”, you answered defensively.

The night went on like that, the both of you sharing fond memories with each other. You turned to Peeta to see him already looking at you. “Y/N, I think I love you.”, he said softly. “I love you too.”, you replied, thinking he meant platonically, you were secretly hoping he meant it in another way but you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. “No, no, I mean in a different way. I mean that I’m always looking at you when you enter a room, I can’t look away from you. You’re always on my mind. I can’t help it.”, he stated honestly.

You gazed at him in disbelief. “I love you like that too. Whenever I hear your voice in the corridors, I turn to look. You’re always on my mind.”, you said. You both slowly leaned in and you shared a gentle kiss that would show your blooming love for each other.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark imagine #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x fem!reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg peeta #thg x reader #thg x you #thg fanfiction #fem!reader

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kiraixi · 10 months

Note

“We cant do this, not here” but make it harringrove or mungrove 🤭🤭

ahah anon right when i’m feeling it too, its kinda long sorry ;w;

nsfw harringrove: ao3

“Steve, we cant do this. Not here—”

“But Baby,” He purrs into blonde curls, “No-ones home, won’t be for another few hours.”

Billy huffs, adorable freckles standing out against his blush. “Yeah we’re not fucking on Susan’s kitchen counter.”

Steve slides his hands down from Billy’s shoulders to his ass, grabbing at a fistful of skin to hoist him up and onto the worktop. He receives and startled gasp and half hearted swat to his hair. He kisses the Billy’s nose in apology.

Billy sighs “Fine, but don’t make a mess.”

“So only inside? How could I resist.”

The other grunts. A hand snakes into his hair yanking him forward, smushing their lips together. It’s uncoordinated and messy but thats always been Billy’s style. A free and sprawling mass ever since they collided, a giggle escapes Steve’s lips, just like the coast he came from.

Billy pulls away, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raising in query.

He stares back with what he know now is the ‘dork face loser smile’ Billy so tenderly named.

“I adore you”

God and the way his boyfriends face blooms.

“Shut up you,” Billy mumbles, resuming their make-out, tongue lapping at his lower lip desperate yet demure. Steve pretends he doesn’t feel the other’s face flame hot and pink against his cheek, he’s being a considerate boyfriend after all.

They’ve done this before, together in unconventional places. Steve is insatiable and Billy is a thrill seeker. The broom closet at school, Steve’s childhood treehouse and Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom are a few honourable mentions. A match made in heaven.

His fingers trail the seam of Billy’s shorts, red tight ones he wears to work that don’t leave anything to the imagination. Makes it real hard for Steve keeping his cool at the pool.

Crawling under the fabric, he massages bountiful flesh, pulling quiet moans and huffs against his spit slicked mouth. Billy growls in retaliation urging him closer, quicker.

He yanks down his jeans and underwear, Billy kicks off his pants and goes to tear of the matching crop.

They embrace again but not before Billy snorts “If we traumatise Max, thats on you.”

“Whatever, I’ll take the blame.” Time is of the essence they say. “Shut up and let me make feel good B,”

The rest is pretty fast, he send a thanking prayer to whatever god made Susan splurge on one of those forward extended counters, gives them a lot more space than usual to manoeuvre. Billy lays back enough to grip the counter and Steve grips both of Billy’s ankles in one hand to hold over his shoulders, the other interlocking with his boyfriend’s palm. It’s the kinda stuff Billy would call sappy shit after.

Steve slides home easy, Billy’s all loose from their messing around earlier on. Still feels like paradise every time he clenches around him, all encompassing like a snake with prey.

The small noises that accompany his every thrust is really what brings Steve over the edge, at first it used to really embarrass Billy to the point he’d always have a hand over his mouth or bite into Steve’s shoulder in hopes of muffling himself. But so far into their relationship he now lets it free.

Quiet pants and whines caress his ears, Steve locks their lips together again mouths moving back and forth with each thrust. He sees Billy’s eyes open, glazed and overwhelmed. Straight out of a painting he looks.

“Steve, please—”

“What is it baby?” Steve whispers soft, breathe tickling Billy’s neck.

“Need it, need you.”

Steve furrows his brow in confused “You have me B, right here.”

He gets a quiet whimper in response, small shake of the head and a tightening of tanned thighs around him.

“Need your cum” Baby blue eyes look up at him, pleading.

And does that not set Steve insides alight. A fire burning within. He slams in with renewed force, feeling Billy slide back at every motion, knuckles desperately clinging at the cabinets, scrambling for purchase. The sounds they make echo around the kitchen, loud and amplified over the cold surfaces.

Steve knows he wont last long, not with the way his boyfriend eyes line with unshed tears, face and shoulders blushed from overexertion. He takes a hand and fondles Billy’s pecs, knowing it’s sensitive enough to throw him over the edge.

He feels the other tightening around him, hears the escaping gasp that leaves Billy’s lips. Then the blonde is spilling over, white streaks across his stomach and chest. The image will forever remain in Steve’s mind, burned into his retinas. He releases into the other, sees the look of content cross Billy’s face once he does.

They kiss for another few minutes, happy to just be. It isn’t until Billy spots Max skating up to the front door that they jump apart, righting themselves to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Steve smirks over at Billy retying his pants, “No where is safe from us Baby.”

And Billy had to agree.

lmao hit me up if you want something in Nancy’s room >:3

edit: someone did hit me up so here’s pt2 !!

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #anon asks #kiraixi #lemon #bottom billy hargrove

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jonkentt · 10 months

Text

a little Sambucky ~

Bucky starts collecting vinyls. Sam notices them accumulate in his apartment. How very typical of Bucky to buy records while refusing to invest in a mattress. Sam glances at the pile of blankets shoved under Bucky’s couch and regrets it.

“Even thinking about you sleeping on this floor every night makes my back hurt.”

“I sleep on the couch sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Sam claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder with a laugh. “That’s great, maybe we’ll be able to get you in a bed before the next century.”

“It’s a lot less important than you make it seem.”

“If you slept in a bed you’d see my side.” Sam squeezes Bucky’s shoulder and leans into him. “You know I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” Bucky says softly and Sam can tell he’s smiling.

“What’re you doing?” Sam leans over Bucky’s shoulder to get a look at the kitchen counter which is littered in tea bags of every color. It looks like Bucky just dumped them all out of the jar he stuffs them in. Why he can’t keep the different flavors in their individual boxes, Sam has no idea.

“Makin’ tea. What kind do you want?”

“Umm you pick. Something fruity.” Bucky grins. “Make sure it goes well with—”

“Honey. I know.” Bucky reaches to open the cupboard above him and pull out a honey bear for assurance. Sam gives his shoulders another squeeze before wandering over to a stack of records that hadn’t been here last time Sam came over.

Sam picks through the records on the top, wrinkling his nose at Dire Straits and Journey. He sets those aside so he can get to the box underneath and leaf through them properly.

“Buy anything good lately?”

“You ask me that as if I would buy bad music.” Sam snorts. “But yeah I found a couple European records. I guess it’s called ‘downtempo’. Café music. It’s nice.”

Sam hums doubtfully. He hears the electric kettle start and continues to look through Bucky’s music, gently pulling out one at a time to look at the covers. He doesn’t recognize a lot of these, which Sam immediately equates to Bucky’s inferior taste. God, he hopes Bucky didn’t pick up any of the stuff Zemo played on his jet.

Bucky sidles over and rests his vibranium hand gently on Sam’s hip. With the other he flicks to the back of the crate and quickly pulls out an album in black with white geometric line art on it. Sam quirks an eyebrow just to be difficult.

“If this is some weird indie shit—”

“Just let one side play out, Sam. Then pick something else if you hate it, but you won’t cause it’s good.”

As Bucky slips the record from it’s sleeve, Sam plops onto his couch. He stretches his arms and leans back, closing his eyes. This has become sort of a routine for them: Sam coming over and Bucky playing his music. It helps Sam unwind, relax, finally exhale the intensity he feels he’s always holding inside. Bucky’s one of the few people Sam can truly be at ease with. They give each other a lot of shit but it comes from a place of truly embracing one another for who they are. It’s never in question that they have each other’s backs.

Sam settles more comfortably into the couch. Whatever tea Bucky’s steeping smells lovely. Definitely fruity. Sam only half pays attention as the record spins through the first track but so far it isn’t bad. As the next track starts all smooth keyboard and mellow vibes, Sam might even dare say it’s relaxing. He opens one eye when Bucky presses a steaming mug into his hand.

“Happy Tangerine,” Bucky says with a wink. “With honey.”

Sam smiles and hums his approval, closing his eyes again. The record is unexpected. Somehow the music is both upbeat and very chill. A pleasant ambiance that inexplicably reminds him of tall evergreens against a pink sky. Sam brings the tea to his lips to blow on it.

“What’d you say this was?”

“Downtempo. Downbeat? I had to get the record shipped in from the UK. It was a whole deal.”

A laugh tickles the back of Sam’s throat. “Nerd.”

“You hate it?”

“No…” Sam considers. “It’s almost okay.”

“Mm, told you.” Bucky’s voice is low and soft. Sam can feel the heat of Bucky’s breath on his lips and his heart skips. Their faces must be so close. They’d barely have to lean in at all to close the distance.

Slowly, Sam opens his eyes. He blinks. Bucky’s face isn’t there. Sam tilts his head to look around the room but he knows what he’ll find. Bucky is sitting against the opposite wall right beside his record player, mirroring Sam with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Sam blinks again and slowly, silently, exhales. He looks at Bucky for a moment longer. His upturned face illuminated by sunlight filtering in through the window and catching the dimples of his small smile.

Sam drops his head back again. One day he’ll have to do something about this. The whole imagining what Bucky’s lips would feel like on his. The whole mistaking the steam of his tea for Bucky’s breath as if it would be just as sweet. But for now he lets their old routine play out.

for @saryasy

on Ao3

#sambucky drabble?#back on my gay shit #sambucky fic #for your records wip

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leefl00f · 8 months

Text

Alice hcs let’s gooo!! Tickle drones AU ver.

Loved this crazy gal, wished she had stayed alive though :,)

She and Nori talk a lot about theories together to argue about it whenever they’re bored

You can say that she’s a witch doctor too, but she’s an actual witch doctor that takes care of Yeva and Nori with solver business (which is how she and Nori became friends!)

I also like to think that she works as a mechanic for regular workers too. Sometimes whenever she’s working w/ one of her patients, she would throw a corny joke or talk about theories.

She is very curious abt the worker body and will not stop talking abt it.

She is autistic

You cannot tell me that they don’t do wacky stuff together like riding wild snowmobiles and sliding in frozen ice tunnels, YOU CANNOT!!

Owns a couple of tickle raptors (by that I mean at least 10 of them) and remembers each of their names.

She keeps them for research purposes

However, Alice would have a rough time to focus on any work when they want to play with her. Especially with meetings (in my au, Alice is working with the rebellion, and most of the meetings are on video call)

Like they would be talking about the next battle plan or rescue mission, and suddenly they hear Alice giggle. William (the president/or leader of the entire underground city) and the others turn their heads to see Alice’s feed only to see her being nipped and nibbled by at least four pink raptors while a fifth one is illuminating her with pink light.

Again, knows almost everything about the worker body and will use that to her advantage with tickling If her patient is sad, she would sneak in a few tickles depending on how close she is to them

Nori and Yeva gets wrecked by her almost every time they visit for a doctor’s appointment

“What? I’m not doing anything! You’re just bein’ dramatic about it!”

“Yikes! Looks like you got the case of the giggles! Don’t worry though, I know how to get them all out by ticklin’! I am your local doctor after all.”

✨Ok that’s all for now! ^^ ✨❤️

#floof speaks #murder drones tickles #sfw tk blog #murder drones #sfw tickling community #sfw tk community #my hcs #:3c #murder drones Alice #still shook from ep 6 #this is the happier version than what we have now #here have this yippefied Alice #i’m trying to be positive and cheer y’all up

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zprites · 1 year

Text

March TMNT All 4-1!

Wow, this month's prompt was a lot harder to write this month for whatever reason. But alas, I prevailed and finally finished!

The prompt I chose was: “I’m new to all of this. Can you show me where to start?”. I did reword it a bit to fit the story more, and also sprinkled in some more Spring stuff for the season lol.

The lovely hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, @leosgirl82, and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

Also, I went orange this month because Mikey suddenly got me in a chokehold.

Bit of NSFW - As always, turtles are aged up!!!! Mikey and Reader are well into their 20s!

Rise! Mikey x Female Reader -- Enjoy!!

Taglist: @turtle-babe83, @manduse, @morning-sun-brah, @crazysarah-98, @pacoholin, @iamdefinitelytheratking

Flowering Like the Stars

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not, nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams. Pablo Neruda

"Achoo!"

"Bless you!"

"Thank you." You rubbed your nose as you called back to your friend, trying to shake the tickling sensation that had crept into your nostrils.

You barely had enough time to cover your mouth before another sneeze escaped, this one harsher than the last.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!” You sniffled dryly. “It’s just my damned hay fever…”

Knew leaving the window open last night was a bad idea. Oh well…

Mikey came over and handed you a glass of lemonade before he sat down on the couch beside you, taking a sip from his own glass. You thanked him for the beverage and took a generous drink. The perfect balance of tartness and sweetness hit your tongue and rolled across your palate before it slid down your throat.

Ah… Like liquid sunshine…

“Thank you again for coming over to help me.” You gently nudged his knee with your own as you spoke.

He gave you a large grin. “Of course! I’m always happy to help you, especially since I get to see your hair first!”

Always happy to help you… No matter how many times he said that, it still made your heart all aflutter. And you knew he meant it everytime.

Wanted some company to the art supply store? He was right there with you picking out new paints and always insisted on carrying everything up to your studio. Needed a plus one to the latest art exhibition? You never knew he could look more handsome, but the way he looked in that suit proved you so very wrong. One of Leo’s pranks causing a glitter bomb to explode in your living room? Not only did he help you clean up every speck of evil glitter dust, but he became your partner in crime, aiding you in your revenge prank that caused flour to go everywhere in the red-eared slider’s room.

And here he was now: helping you dye your hair again, this time a vibrant dark green.

“You’ll definitely look ready for Spring now!” He exclaimed, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Well, I do want to be at least one person’s spring awakening this year.” You shot him a wink, raising your glass to your lips once more. “Might as well look the part.”

As you took a drink you noticed a hint of pink on Mikey’s cheeks out of your periphery.

“You’ve been mine since I met you.” He mumbled before he busied himself with his own beverage.

You froze. He spoke so quietly that you were almost certain you misheard him.

But you didn’t.

This wasn't the first time that your best friend had said something that alluded to his deeper feelings for you, and each time you chose not to press further. It's not that you didn't reciprocate those feelings. You’d be the first to admit that whenever you got a text from Mikey you would feel giddy, replying back in an instant while grinning like an idiot. That you stared at him almost every time you hung out with the turtle brothers, Leo often giving you shit for it later on. Or that your mind always wandered to him when you pleasured yourself, his name on your lips as you circled your clit, wishing that those fingers were his own.

You were certain you loved him, however you were afraid - afraid to be hurt again like you had been in past relationships.

So you said nothing, just like now, the two of you falling into a tense yet restrained silence.

A silence that was killing Mikey.

As he drank his lemonade, the same recipe Todd taught him years ago, his mind wandered as he pointedly kept his gaze from you, hoping you didn’t hear his latest blunder.

Then again, he found himself making many slip ups as of late.

And he knew why, he was a turtle that was very intune with his emotions after all. He was certain he fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you, but for the past several years he kept those feelings to himself. Mikey knew that if he spoke up about his feelings there was a small possibility that you didn’t feel the same. So he told himself he was happy with the dynamic the two of you had now.

However most nights he longed for your presence beside him as he jerked himself off, your face filling his mind, your name playing like a reverent invocation on a loop.

“Up for a game of Smash until the timer goes off?” You asked just as he drank the last of his beverage.

Your words caught him off guard as he accidentally swallowed down the wrong pipe, causing him to go into a coughing fit to expel the offending liquid out of his lungs.

Way to keep your head out of the gutter there, Michael…

Mind Raph chastised him as he fought to get his breathing under control.

You gave him a concerned look as his coughing finally calmed down.

“Sorry.” He rasped, giving you a smile. “Sure, smashing sounds fun.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, a couple of seconds ticked by before he realized what he said.

“I MEAN- Yes, let’s smash! Ah, no! I- uh… You…” He continued to fumble over his words until he inhaled slowly. “Yes, playing Smash sounds fun.”

Amusement bubbled up inside of you while he died a little on the inside.

Unbeknownst to the other, the two of you shared an identical thought.

I’m so fucking screwed…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The timer went off just as your Meta Knight flew off the map from Mikey’s King Dedede combo move, signaling the end of the match. You groaned at your defeat and turned off the timer that was on your phone while Mikey muted the TV.

“C’mon, we can do a rematch after.” He offered with a grin.

The two of you made your way to your bathroom. You sat down against your bathtub and leaned your head over the edge. Mikey grabbed the detachable shower head and turned on the water, checking the temperature before beginning the process of rinsing out the dye out of your hair.

You became lost in the sensations; water rushing by your ears, Mikey humming as his fingers carded through your tresses.

Suddenly you were hit with the raw domesticity of the current moment.

Here he was, lathering up shampoo along your scalp like he did every other month, his movements gentle as he slowly worked out the knots while making sure most of the dye washed down the drain.

It made your heart ache. You wanted to say so much yet that nagging fear held you back, but with each touch you felt something else stir inside of you.

Resolve.

“There.” Mikey stated. He turned off the water and placed your shower head back in its holder before wringing out the excess from your hair. You sat up when he finished, taking the towel you laid out before he showed up and pressed your wet locks into the cloth.

I have to tell him…

You lowered the towel, setting it aside to deal with later. Once he saw you were done he offered a hand down to you which you took, allowing him to help you onto your feet.

However this time, you didn’t let go.

“Mikey…”

He raised a brow ridge in question as you settled on what you wanted to say.

“Earlier, I did hear you.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable. His expression was unreadable as you began rambling.

“And I know- No, I just… Ugh, let me start over.”

You sighed slowly as you mustered the last bit of courage that was beginning to fade away as his gaze stayed locked to yours, the midnight blue of his irises swimming with emotion.

“I like you.” You confessed. “Probably even love you.”

“Really?” His voice sounded so small, as if he was afraid you’d say ‘Sike!’ and shatter the hope that you instilled with your words.

Your lips upturned into a gentle smile. “Yeah, and I really want to kiss you right now…”

His breath hitched as you drew closer to him, face now inches from his own.

“I- I never…” He trailed off, uncertain on how to proceed.

“You feel the same, right?” You asked.

“Of course!” He declared. “I’ve loved you for years now. I just never… I’ve never been in a relationship before, so this is all new to me. I don’t even know where to start…”

Ah…

Your other hand rose to cup his cheek.

“I can show you, if you’ll let me.”

His eyes widened as he gave a small nod.

Time stood still for you two as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. His hand tightened around yours as he let out a soft moan, his other hand coming to settle on your hip.

He pulled away first, a large grin on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.”

#tmnt all 4 1 challenge #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt fanfiction #rise tmnt x reader #rise mikey

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moominofthevalley · 6 months

Text

Marguerite’s Halloween Bacchanalia, Part I

On Halloween Night, Trystan and Emily are invited to a spooky party.

Characters: Trystan x Emily Rose

WC: 2.3k

R: Teen | Spoilers for Book 2, Chapter 15.

A/N: I found this spoooooky prompt from @youneedsomeprompts. Fair warning: A LOT of stuff is gonna go down in both parts 😉

“Emily, you look absolutely breathtaking.”

Trystan marveled at his partner, admiring every inch of her body. The purple gown was perfect on her, the fine fabric curving about her form gorgeously. Starry dots of white were speckled all across the gown. The metallic corset wrapped around her chest, the tiny lace details complimenting the surly detective. Emily, however, found the dress to be a bit too...galactic.

“Ugh. Why is this lace so itchy?”

“Beauty is pain, Emily. And you wear it so well.”

“Stop enjoying this.”

“Apologizes, but I plan to enjoy looking at you in that pretty little getup every bit as much as I’ll enjoy pulling it off you,” Emily rolled her eyes, “Besides, I know how much you love watching Blades with me! You smile every time Imtura comes on screen!”

“The things I do for you,” Emily said dryly, her lips curling into an exaggerated pout. Trystan smirked, his hands resting on her waist.

Emily didn’t have the heart to tell Trystan that she never truly enjoyed watching Blades of Light and Shadow — after all, she much preferred horror and mystery. The only reason she sat with him on the couch every Friday afternoon was so she could see the childlike excitement spread across his face.

“Well, that’s because she’s fucking amazing,” Emily grinned, “she’s fucking strong! She could crush both of us if she wanted to.”

Trystan chuckled, making a point to pose dramatically in his costume. He wore a black and gold suit, intricate details of gold lining all around his outfit. The neckline revealed a small tuft of hair on his chest. Emily’s heart danced at the sight.

“Hm, now turn around. I need to zip you up,” Trystan ordered, his eyes now facing Emily's back.

“Where’d you get these costumes, anyway?”

“They’re straight from the set! I’m friends with the director, you know.”

“Perks of dating a rich idiot,” She teased, still grinning.

Trystan shook his head, smiling. Emily’s cheeks bloomed a light pink as the warmth of Trystan’s breath tickled her neck. Pressing a quick kiss on her shoulder, Trystan grabbed the zipper from the bottom of the gown and pulled it up.

“Much better,” he said, turning her around. “The party’s going to be at Marguerite’s estate in Staten Island.”

“She’s back from Drakovia?”

“Oh, yes. She’ll be in New York for a few months. She’s planning her first fashion show since...” Trystan trailed off, the memories of the last few months creeping up on him. Emily glanced at him with sorrow. A flickering memory coursed through her. Vasili’s dagger, the deafening crunch as it entered his chest; and his last words all ran through her head.

“Is Marguerite going to be okay tonight?”

“I hope so,” Trystan uttered, “but Mags is strong. I believe in her.”

They both nodded. Trystan urged a weak smile, his hands curling around Emily’s.

“Now then...are you ready to go?”

* * * *

Autumn leaves trickled down the driveway of Marguerite’s manor. A flurry of crisp colors hurried down, rain droplets staining the windows. Vines crawled up and down the extravagant walls, alongside a bunch of window boxes that were filled to the brim with colorful flowers. Orange, pink, a crisp bright red.

Emily and Trystan stood beside each other, their eyes greeting the rest of the crew. They first spotted Luke and Ruby, smiling at their Chucky and Tiffany costumes. Faux bloody stitches speckled across Luke’s face, and Ruby dawned black lipstick.

“Oh my God,” Luke gawked, staring at Emily and Trystan, “you’re Raine and Mal! But like, in their masquerade outfits!”

“Yes, we are!” Trystan beamed excitedly, pulling Emily closer to him. “And you...actually like Chucky?”

Luke squirmed a little, his face slightly red. “She likes Chucky! I do not like horror movies at all.” Ruby smiled, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Especially ones with evil, demonic little dolls!”

“Well, you two look amazing!” Trystan said, everyone turning to Tommy. Emily’s eyes widened, baffled at the sight of her uncle in cowboy attire.

“Howdy kiddo! You look like a million bucks.”

“You’re a...cowboy?” Emily asked, watching as Tommy politely tipped his cowboy hat.

“Damn straight! I’m Quincey Morris from Dracula! You know how much I love vampires.”

Malfada laughed, patting his shoulder. Her wife followed from behind, dressed in a sparkly white flapper gown. Malfada smiled at everyone, her black top hat glistening in the night.

“It’s so nice to see you two again,” Theresa smiled, pulling Trystan and Emily into a hug. “It’s been so long, you guys should come over for dinner again sometime soon!”

“Absolutely,” Emily said, “and who are you two supposed to be?”

“Marlene Dietrich and the woman she kissed in ‘Morocco!’” Theresa said, “One of the first few lesbian kisses in Hollywood. I just had to beg Malfada to dress up with me for the party.”

The grand door swung open, and a familiar face greeted them. Standing tall and bold, Marguerite Thorne waved at her friends and family. Her blue ball gown sparkled under the moonlight.

“Happy Halloween!” She cheered, a warm smile on her lips.

With everyone stepping inside, they all gawked at the well-decorated manor before them. From above, a giant crystal chandelier lit up the room, lighting up the faces of every guest. A large table with pastries — including Trystan’s beloved belladi — was set up across the entrance. Crowds of socialites were stocked across the ballroom, all sharing different tales about themselves.

“Oh my God!" Ruby said, her arms intertwining with Luke’s. “This looks absolutely beautiful. Thank you for inviting us!”

“Of course,” Marguerite said, “Now go on! You all should go mingle! There’s lots of food and desserts for the night, so go ahead!”

Taking hold of Emily’s hand, Trystan led her towards the bar. Grabbing two glasses of champagne, the couple sat down.

“You know, we Drakovians take Halloween very seriously,” Trystan said, taking a sip. Cocking an eyebrow, Emily smirked.

“Oh, yeah? Any superstitions I should know about?”

“There are so many. For one, you must always wear a costume at night to ward off evil spirits. Tsktsktsk, let’s see...” Trystan swirled his drink, contemplating, “Always carry at least four daggers on you. And of course, there are always lots of poisonings on nights like these, but seeing as the only Thornes in here are me and Mags...it’s unlikely.”

“Hey! Last time I checked, Marguerite wasn’t wearing a costume,” Emily sniped, crossing her arms.

“Did you not see her? She’s Cinderella!”

“Oh, come on! She’s just wearing a blue dress!”

“Not just a blue dress, it’s an exact replica of the one from the movie! You, my dear, need to catch up on your Disney knowledge.”

Hearing a gasp from behind, the two of them turned around. A little stunned, Emily’s heart fluttered as the doe eyes of a woman met hers. The woman’s dark hair was braided and tied with two pink ribbons. Emily examined her cerulean dress with a white collar, immediately knowing her costume.

“Trystan Thorne! It’s been so long.”

“Aislinn! It’s good to see you!”

Trystan wrapped his arms around her, forming a hug. Pulling away, he faced his partner.

“Emily, this is Aislinn Tanaka! One of New York’s finest lawyers,” Shaking her hand, Emily shivered as their fingers touched.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too! I heard about both of you in the news, actually. You took down the Heartache Killer, right?”

“Yeah, we did!” Emily and Trystan looked at each other, every confession Eleanor told them still in their heads.

“How do you two know each other?”

“Do you remember when I told you I wanted to set up that victim defense fund? After we got arrested?”

“You two got arrested?” Aislinn asked, her eyes widening.

“Ah, yes, arrested. We tried to join a sex cult but-”

“Hey!” Emily raised her voice, “It was for an undercover mission! We called the police on the cult, but Morris and Holbeck have always had it out for me, and so they fucking arrested us.”

Aislinn blinked at them, clearly leaving her with more questions than answers.

“Anyway — I discovered Aislinn and we tried setting it up, but then Drakovia happened.” Trystan sighed, his eyes heavy as he thought of the past few months. “Well, now that I’m back in New York for good, maybe we can start things up again.”

“Definitely. I still work at Ricci & Associates, so call us whenever you’re ready.”

“How is Gabe, by the way?” Trystan asked, his hands resting on Emily’s.

“Very busy, as usual. He and Quinn couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Well, tell them both I’ll be in touch! I really do want to set it up.”

Emily sat quietly, drinking the rest of her champagne. It was no secret she never really cared for small talk with strangers — even if the small talk was with very pretty lawyers. Still, all she thought about was Aislinn’s costume. A smile crept up on her, reminded of all the times she and her father spent hours watching Ghibli movies together.

“You’re dressed up as Sophie, right? From Howl’s Moving Castle?” The freckles on Aislinn’s nose crinkled, a grin spreading across her lips.

“Yes! It’s one of my favorites.” Aislinn said, her cheeks flushing a dull pink.

“I love that movie,” Emily replied, “I grew up watching Ghibli. Princess Mononoke is my favorite.”

“You guys should meet some of my other friends! They’re all chatting by the chocolate fountain,” Aislinn offered. Emily shook her head, her hands gripping her empty wine glass.

“You two go ahead,” Emily said. “I wanna get a refill first, and then I'll join you guys.”

“Sounds good,” Trystan said, pecking her forehead. Emily smiled as he and Aislinn walked off, the backs of their heads disappearing into a crowd of people. Turning to the bartender, she raised a finger.

“Horse Creek on the rocks,” she ordered. The bartender nodded, handing her another glass. Emily took a brief sniff, wincing as she prepared to take a sip of literal paint thinner. She smiled bitterly, recalling all the times she and Tommy took a shot of this atrocious drink in memory of her father.

Emily sighed as she tapped on the now-empty glass. She debated on where she could go after this — she was simply not in the mood to mingle with some rich big-wigs. She settled on finding Malfada and Uncle Tommy. Leaving the bar, Emily walked across the grand room, pushing past the bunches of guests.

Out of the corner of her eye, a figure in scarlet jumped out at her. Turning around, a familiar red-haired face cast out a devilish grin.

“Emily Rose, my darling! I thought I saw you drinking alone at the bar!”

The detective’s eyes widened as Olivia Nevrakis stretched out her arms into a hug. Pulling away, her mouth gaped. Emily examined Olivia’s eyes, displaying a hint of something beneath. Her warm and saccharine voice shook her, and it brought her back to the past few times she met her.

“Wonderful to see you, love!” Emily chirped, her cheeks turning warm, “I should’ve known you’d scope me out.”

“Well, I do have eyes everywhere.” Olivia winked, her eyes not daring to leave Emily’s.

“What are you doing here?”

“Marguerite invited me, of course. I figured it’d be the perfect time to...catch up.” Olivia sighed. “Now then, would you like to get some ‘fresh air,’ Detective?”

Emily stared at the woman in front of her. A dare played in Olivia’s eyes. It was clear she wasn’t just here to socialize. There was something to be said. Something to be told. Emily nodded as she followed Olivia into a nearby private balcony.

The detective and the noble stared up at the New York sky. Smog and little hints of stars sparkled across the night, the crescent moon standing tall. Ignoring the muted sounds of chatter from inside, Olivia turned to Emily.

“I know what happened in Drakovia.”

Emily winced. Everything that she and Trystan faced in those few months felt like a fever dream. No, not a dream — everything she witnessed in Drakovia turned into a nightmare. Vasili was a ghost constantly lurking, waiting to attack and torment her. Her hands began to tremble. Every now and then, she’d realize that those very hands were the same that killed Vasili. Worse yet, Trystan’s hands as well — and that very thought ruined her. She was the one who decided Vasili’s fate, and although Trystan shared the burden with her; Emily owned a whole layer of guilt and shame that she’d have to carry on for the rest of her life. Could she ever admit to him the culpability she struggled with? Trystan Thorne was no killer, and yet she made him one.

“I killed him,” Emily mumbled, her voice weak. Olivia set a hand on her shoulder. “Trys and I haven’t really…talked about it. But I know it fucked him up, too.”

Olivia nodded, rubbing her back. “I’m…sorry, Emily.” Her brows furrowed, “But Vasili was dangerous. You know that. He would’ve killed you and Trystan.”

Emily wiped away her tears. A lump swelled up in her throat. She swore a ghost was sitting on her shoulders, the weight and tension from her body unbearable.

“No,” she murmured, “we could’ve fucking…thrown him in jail. Did he deserve to die? To be killed by his own fucking dagger?”

“Yes,” Olivia snarled, “all that and more. I’m sorry you two had to go through that, but it absolutely had to be done.”

Emily looked at her, her body weak. She nodded, a solemn glare in her eyes.

“What are you here for? Really.”

“Niko Borodin is dead.”

* * * * A/N: Happy Halloween Eve! Part 2 will be released TOMORROW at 10 AM PST! See you all then!

Click here for the masterlist of all my fics!

tags: @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

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tastybluesprite · 2 years

Text

Just can’t grow out of it

Summery: Old memories resurface

Warnings: some cursing, tickling

(Also I made a part 2 here in case y’all wanted to read it after lol)

There was a silence as the pizza van made its way on the desert road. Jonathan drove, and Argyle was passed out in his own seat next to him (probably became a bit more high than usual). Meanwhile, Will and Mike were seated in the back, with Will looking out the window and Mike looking down at the map.

Mike could admit that he didn’t enjoy being in a tight van for so long. He couldn’t wait till he could finally get the opportunity to stretch his legs again. He turned looked at Will, seeing a look of boredom and exhaustion on his face. “Hey Will?” He addressed him. Will turned to his best friend, “what?” He asked. “Do you remember that one D&D game we played when Dustin almost died from a Basilisk?”

A bright smile appeared on Wills face from the comical memory and the mention of his favorite game, “y-yea I remember! He got so mad he almost flipped the whole table and ruined our campaign.” Will recounted the memory with a small laugh. Mike laughed also, “yea I remember you laughed at him for being a sore loser and he tickled you to death for pay back.”

Wills cheeks flushed at that, but Mike continued “I wonder if you’re still ticklish after all this time” Mike wondered, making Wills face become an even deeper shade of pink “o-of course not. I grew out of that kinda stuff years ago.” He insisted with a slight frantic shake of his head.

“You really shouldn’t lie Will.” Jonathan said with a smirk from the front seat, “care to tell Mike what I do to you every time you are a pain in my ass?” He asked playfully. “Shut up Jonathan!!” Will said through clenched teeth, completely flustered with embarrassment now. “You know what? I was gonna tell Mike to back off originally, but after that? Get him Mike.”

“Mike… don’t do this” Will protested desperately, not liking the look his friend was giving him as he inched closer. “M-Mike! Nohoho!!” Will protested as Mike tackled him right in his seat and started digging into his side. Will struggled and squirmed but with the little room he had from Mike being practically on top of him, he couldn’t do much but protest or take it. He went for the preferred option. “Mihihike dohohont!!!” He objected through high pitched giggles as he tried to pull his hands off of him. “Awwww what’s the matter Will the wise? Can’t take it anymore?” Mike teased with a playful grin. “Shuhut uhuhuAHGHAHAHA WAHAHAHAIT SHIHIT NOHOT THEHEIR NOT THEHEHEIR!!!!”

One thing Mike had remembered about Will from their earlier years was that he had a certain death spot right at the bottom of his ribs. Looks like he still hadn’t grown out of that particularly bad spot though. Will was kicking his legs around and squirming wildly as his hysterical laughter filled the van. Will attempted to pry his hand away from those sensitive ribs, but it was no use.

Only when Wills laughter went silent did Mike let him go. Right when he did, the lighter haired boy immediately curled in on himself, hugging at his own body to protect himself from any further attacks, as some excess giggles spilled out of his mouth. Will was panting heavily, his whole face flushed, along with his cheeks wet from tears of laughter. He rubbed at his lowest ribs to get rid of the ghost tickles. Mike found all of this endearing.

“J-jerk..” he stammered. He flinched when Mike put a hand on his back, but relaxed when he started rubbing him there soothingly to calm him down. “Sorry dude did I go to far?” Mike asked with concern. Will managed a tired smile “don’t worry I’m ok.”

Let’s just say Will was already plotting his revenge.

#stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things fanfic #tickle fanfic #stranger things tickling #ticklish!will #lee!will #ler!mike #will byers #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #byler tumblr #byler fanfic #byler s4 #stranger things season 4

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inkyquince · 1 year

Text

Patreon Post: Unholy Confession (Father Blythe- VtM oc)

content warning: Throatfucking, Secret Sex, Confessional, general warning for Malkavian stuff.

content warning. a bit of angst, emotional cheating (from a third party, not from reader or father), mean girl Blythe.

“It’s so bad Father, god, I can’t stand this anymore.” The man on the other side of the confessional struggled to keep his voice down, cracking hoarsely every time he used the priest’s title.

Father Blythe hummed knowingly and you struggled not to whine from your spot between his thighs, drool slipping from your mouth from the cock lodged in your throat. Tears pricked your eyes, nose buried in his thin happy trail as he saw to confession after confession after confession. Your body was so cold, the cold stone slabs freezing your knees, with the cool temperature of the priest not warming you up in any way.

“I can’t stop thinking about him. I know it’s a sin, but everything melts away when it comes to him.”

He hummed again and for the first time in over an hour, he slowly looked away from the confessional screen, down to you. His pure white eyes were so clear to see behind his dark glasses and you can tell his steel gaze was fixed upon your face. As per usual, it made your stomach flip, almost curdling inside your own body as if it was alive and squirming.

“I see… Desire can be such a savage sin that masquerades first as fondness and then love.” His gloved fingers squeezed your cheeks, making you dribble more, mouth already stuffed full with cock.

“I know, I know.” The man seemed to be rocking himself in the small confession booth. “I’m having impure thoughts about someone who isn’t my wife, but… But Father, I adore him. He’s the first person to make me laugh… Make me feel something real after so many years.”

Father Blythe listened close, even as his sharp fangs emerged slowly and dug into his pale bottom lip, eyes growing more hungry at his words as he looked at you. Tangling his thin fingers into your hair, he had enough of your snug little mouth cockwarming him. His touch was gentle but firm as he forcibly pulled you off his cock just to press it all the way back in. You couldn’t help the slick sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat or your gagging at all, His sadistic grin grew at the sound.

“Ah, matters of the heart. You might be thinking of those matters with a different part of your body. Do you love him, or do you lust after him?”

The man on the other side gave a sniff and fell silent, but the Father didn’t let up, fucking into your throat, and not worried about your very audible gagging and drooling.

“... I love him. W-We haven’t had sex, and I don’t… Want him for that.”

Father Blythe’s pale pink tongue poked out from his lip as he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back to show off his graceful pale neck, Adam’s apple bobbing. He started bucking his hips, the soft of his priest’s robe brushing against your skin as his happy trail tickling your lips. You became dizzy from the lack of air but knew not to pull off. Not until he deemed it.

“Then be with your lover.” Blythe hissed through his teeth, taking both you and the confessor off guard.

“What?” The man stammered.

He tilts his head back down to stare at you, his gaze unnerving and steady. It was like waking up in the middle of the night and seeing something from the bottom of your bed. Looking. But this time you can’t switch on the light and wash the illusion away with a warm glow. Just like when the priest first arrived in your town, and you had nightmares every night of something staring down at you, hungry and cold and detached. Now it’s above you, making you gag on his cold cock lodged in your throat.

“Run away with your love. Or be with them. Why waste your time?” He murmured, low, leaning down as if to speak directly to you. “Run away. Pack up and leave for a better life with a man who loves you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, first warming you before growing cold all over. He wasn’t telling you that you… Were the one he’d leave with. He was mocking you. Daring you to run away from him, leave his flock. Mocking you because he knew you never would. Docile as a lamb and loyal to its shepherd even as its being led to its butchering.

“I… I could? And God wouldn’t-”

“Why would God care?”

That seemed to take the confessor aback. They stayed silent and Father Blythe refused to look away from your eyes, staring deep into them before he leaned back, satisfied that you understood what he meant. With a gentle touch, he slipped his cockhead from your mouth, the drooling slit still pressed against your bottom lip. You deeply inhaled oxygen, unable to stop drool from slipping out as you rested your cheek against his covered knee, still lightheaded. It took you a moment to realize you were far too loud, your gasps for breath drowned out by your own heartbeat throbbing in your ears. But it took you a moment to realize that it didn’t matter, as the confessor was softly crying.

“Thank you, Father… Thank you!” He whispered between tearful sniffles and soft sobs.

“Go with God.” Father Blythe murmured and raised his thin, gloved hand to shut the screen, immediately plunging the two of you in darkness. The father remained still as the man slipped through the thick fabric of the confessional and you could hear him trot away, footsteps echoing.

There was just a beat of silence between you two. Father Blythe leaned down and pressed his cold lips against yours, your warm puff of air meeting his breathless mouth, tongue flicking over your bottom lip, where precum stained your skin.

The confessional curtain was tugged at and someone else walked in and sat down and Father Blythe leaned away. With a cruel, harsh grip of your jaw, he forcibly parted your lips before lodging his cock all the way into your throat again, making you give a soft whine of pain.

“Father?” Oh. That was your neighbor.

“Hello, my child.” Father Blythe looks down at you with a smirk, with his fingers stroking over your cheek as he slowly began to fuck into your throat again. “Tell me, how long has it been since your last confession?”

#vtm oc #oc junk #quincewrites #nsft #patreon posts

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super-cosmic-library · 10 months

Text

Part 4

part 3, part 2, part 1, ao3

“His dad literally tried to shove me into a locker, Chris,” Eddie whined as he washed the rest of the homemade avocado facemask off his face. “He was such a cliché bully, it was boring. And Steve looks almost exactly like him, but somehow I’m turned on by him? Am I actually insane?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. Eddie had been going on about Steve nonstop since they dropped him off. At first, it was cute to see her best friend all flustered by his crush, but after a nearly thirty-minute monologue about the guy’s ass while the two did their end-of-week skincare routines, she was ready to change the subject.

“You need a drink?” Chrissy hollered from the kitchen, taking a can of La Croix from the fridge for herself. It filled her with warmth every time she saw them in there. She knew Eddie kept those drinks in there just for her. Neither of the men who lived there drank the stuff.

“Yes, please. God, I’m famished.”

She grabbed an already open bag of blood and shut the door behind her.

She’d known her best friend was a vampire for a long time. She had kind of figured it out when they started hanging out her junior year and she’d realized he had been a senior since she began high school. She didn’t know what the teachers thought, but she’d reasoned that there was no way someone could go through senior year that many times and not just drop out altogether. There had to be a bigger reason.

She took Eddie’s favorite mug—a plain white one with the words “World’s Foxiest Grandma” written in black and a picture of Garfield in a curly grey wig, a green knit shaw, and pink readers on it—off the rack on the wall and poured it half full with blood. He never needed much more for a feeding.

She placed what little remained in the bag back in the fridge, then passed the mug over to Eddie as he entered the kitchen, fresh-faced and mischievous. Although, he almost always had a mischievous glint in his eye. It was a practically permanent fixture.

She cracked open her sparkling water as he took a long sip from his mug.

“Remind me to never skip feeding ever again,” he said, licking blood from his upper lip.

She shook her head, unimpressed that a man his age struggled with taking basic care of himself. “How you’ve been able to keep yourself alive for so long is beyond me.”

“Wayne.”

“You’re a grown-ass man, and you let your brother take care of you?” Chrissy didn’t get to swear at home or anywhere else her mom might hear of it, so she reveled in doing so in the privacy of the trailer.

“What can I say? My brother is my keeper, or whatever the fuck they teach in Sunday school.”

“The fact that you know that much is impressive,” she said, vaguely remembering something like that from her own years of Sunday morning bible classes.

“Excuse you, I read my Bible every day and go to church on Sundays.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’d burst into flames if you set foot in a church, and that’s not even because of the whole vampire thing. That’s just a you thing.”

Eddie grinned wickedly. “You flatter me.”

She gave his shoulder a good shove, and he cackled in response.

Eddie threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and started rifling through the cabinets for any other junk foods that tickled his fancy. The first time they had a “girl’s night,” Chrissy had been amazed by the abundance of junk food the Munsons had. She knew people bought things like snack cakes and potato chips, otherwise, why would stores stock them? However, because her pantry had always been filled with dried fruits, rice cakes, and almonds for snacks, she thought that was how it was for everyone. This thought had only been reinforced by her friends on the squad having very similar pantries, at least from what she saw when she went to sleepovers and study sessions at their houses.

Her mother had spent years drilling into her head how bad junk food was for her health. Growing up, the only times she ever got to have dessert were when she went to her grandma’s house. Even then, it was only one oatmeal raisin cookie after dinner. She was never allowed to eat cake at her classmates’ birthday parties. She didn’t even get to eat ice cream–only frozen yogurt with fresh fruit toppings. And afterward, her mom would force her to go on runs with her to burn off the calories.

So when Eddie first started offering her snacks when she came over, she was hesitant, to say the least. Of course, she was worried about what would happen to her figure if she ate even a single Oreo. How could she not be, after being drilled on the dangers of processed foods? But more than that, she was scared of how her mother might react if she found out Chrissy had eaten something that contained trans fats. And she would know it, right? Her mom would be able to smell the high fructose corn syrup on her breath, right?

Chrissy about damn near had a panic attack the first time she accepted an Oatmeal Cream Pie from Eddie. It was made with oatmeal. It had it in the name! It should have been healthy, right? But her body had betrayed her after she finished half of it. It wasn’t used to eating something that had more than three ingredients listed on the package. So as her stomach cramped, all she could think about was how disappointed her mother would be.

Chrissy had contemplated going to the bathroom to force herself to throw up. She knew bulimia was dangerous, so she only did it on occasion and only when she had access to a toothbrush. However, she could make an exception. Especially, she felt as bad as she had.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Eddie asked her what was wrong.

There was something about him that made her feel safe. Like she could be herself around him and talk without a filter, and he wouldn’t judge her or talk behind her back about it. It was something she noticed during their first interaction and the feeling only grew stronger the more they became friends.

That night, she’d broken down and confessed her tumultuous relationship with food–something she had never done aloud. Eddie had sat there silently and listened as she poured out her heart. All of the not gettings and the not wantings and all of the instant regrettings. It left her feeling exposed and scared, though not because of what his reaction to all of it might be but because of what these issues she struggled with might mean about her.

When she had finished, he’d tried his best to comfort her. He had tried to talk things out with her. It helped a little, but the problem was rooted so deep, it had taken months of patient encouragement and talking with Wayne about what an actual healthy diet could look like (and not the crap the women in her mom’s Facebook groups shared) to get to where she was now.

She knew she wasn’t “fixed.” She knew she would always struggle with food to some extent. But now she could eat a slice of veggie pizza for dinner and have Eddie-approved snacks and not have a meltdown afterward. After years of drowning in her mother’s trendy diets and daily exercise regimens, she finally felt like she could breathe.

Chrissy grabbed a bag of M&Ms and poured some into the metal popcorn bowl. If she left Eddie to do it, he would forget to put them in until after the popcorn, which meant they would lose precious time warming up under the heat of the popped kernels. And Chrissy liked them warm.

She padded over to the living room in her fuzzy penguin socks to connect her laptop to the Munsons’ shitty little TV and pull up YouTube.

“No, not this movie again,” Eddie groaned as the intro music to But I’m a Cheerleader filled the room.

“It’s a classic!” She gasped. “Do you hate classics?”

Eddie plopped down on the couch behind her, popcorn bowl resting in his lap. “Only when we’ve already watched them a million times.”

“It has not been a million times.” Chrissy sunk into the couch next to him.

The couch, like many other things in the Munson trailer, was much older than her. She would argue that those things were also much more well-loved than her, but that would start an unwinnable argument between the two of them.

It was one of those couches where the springs were kind of busted and the cushions could no longer keep their shape, so you felt like you were going to be swallowed up whenever you sat down. Then, when two people tried to sit on it, they would always end up tumbling to the center of the couch, all pressed up against each other.

The first time Chrissy ever visited the trailer, she made the mistake of trying to sit next to Eddie on it. She still swore (jokingly) that she had almost been crushed to death by him because of it.

Chrissy loved Eddie’s home because it was nothing like hers. Eddie and Wayne didn’t decorate to impress company as her mother had. They decorated with things that made them happy, like Wayne's hat and mug collections that were displayed along the ceiling of the living room or the framed and completed jigsaw puzzle hanging above Wayne’s sitting chair. It gave the place more character than the abstract paintings her mom had found at Home Goods. Ones that looked like they belonged in a hotel room rather than the house of a suburban family.

The Munsons’ furniture was practical and useful. The tables weren’t replaced because they were mismatched. The lamps were repaired when they broke. Pieces were thrifted and not in the way Chrissy’s mom “thrifted” things–by strolling through different discount stores or scrolling through Wayfair and Etsy. No, these things were found at Goodwill and the Salvation Army. Chrissy should know. When their box TV finally gave out, it was Chrissy and Eddie who spent all day scouring the local thrift stores in search of a new one–picking up clothes and other tchotchkes that caught their eyes and they went along.

The entire trailer was always clean; however, it was also constantly cluttered. This was primarily due to Eddie’s inability to focus on a single task, often setting things down the forgetting they existed. This led to half-painted minis and bottles of paint left on the coffee table. Campaign notes, unfinished homework assignments, and paper scraps of scribbled song lyrics stacked on the kitchen table. A can of hairspray sat next to the toaster. And dozens upon hundreds of guitar picks in the carpet, next to the kitchen sink, in the cupboards, on the bathtub ledge, behind the dryer, wedged between the couch cushions, and so many other places Chrissy couldn’t possibly begin to fathom. The space felt lived in. Unlike her own home, where unless the place was shining, sparkling, and spotless, it was considered a pigsty.

So, yeah, Chrissy preferred spending her time at her best friend’s home much more than she did at her own home.

As the montage of the campers “learning” traditional gender roles played, Chrissy pulled out her box of nail supplies. “What color this week.”

He took a contemplative sip from his mug. “I’m feeling blue.”

“Really?” She asked, setting aside the black nail polish she had been taking out for him. He usually only ever had his nails painted black. On one occasion, he wanted them blood red, but he spent the following days complaining about how bright they were until he finally picked all of the paint off.

“Yeah. Kinda want to switch things up.”

“And this has nothing to do with the blue sweater Steve wore tonight?”

“I am offended that you would accuse me of such behavior.”

“So it has nothing to do with Steve?”

“Absolutely not.” He plucked a midnight blue bottle of nail polish out of her carrying case. The color was so dark, it was nearly black, but there was a slight shimmer to it that one could tell it wasn’t. Maybe she had been wrong, she conceded.

She picked out a lime green color for herself and handed it to Eddie. The two slid down to sit on the floor, so they could use the coffee table to use as a workspace. Chrissy laid her hands palms down on a paper towel. Eddie uncapped the bottle and began to carefully brush the cool paint on her nails.

When they started doing each other’s nails, Chrissy had been surprised at how well Eddie was able to paint hers. Back when they were dating, whenever she asked Jason to help her with her left hand, he always bemoaned doing something so “girly” (his words). Then, he would do such a shit job at actually painting them, that most of the time she would have to scrub it off with nail polish remover and attempt to do it herself to slightly better results. Despite his attitude, she could tell that Jason had actually tried his best to help her out–his face twisting, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. It wasn’t some sort of attempt at weaponized incompetence, simply inexperience and shaky hands. Even though his complaining had made her feel small, she couldn’t fault him for not trying.

Eddie’s hands, by contrast, were meticulously still. She supposed it made sense due to all of the miniature Dungeons and Dragons figurines he enjoyed painting. He’d ensure the brush wasn’t overloaded with paint, then carefully apply each layer, swiping around her nail with his to collect any excess paint. Because he did this, her nails were always the ones to get painted first. That way, he wouldn’t get any brightly colored paint on his fresh dark nails.

“All joking aside, I’m glad that Steve was able to come tonight. He’s a fun guy. I like how he makes you light up.”

With his wild hair pulled up in a top bun, she was able to see his cheeks flush. “Shut up.”

“It’s true!” She laughed, careful not to jostle her hands. “I like seeing you happy.”

“Well, we should have him bring Buckley next time. How’s that sound, Chris?”

Chrissy turned tomato red. “I swear to god, Eddie.”

“What? What do you swear?” He challenged her.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Pfft,” he waved her off. “That’s an empty threat. You know I can’t die.”

“Then I’ll find a way to end you. Or maybe I’ll just lock you in a coffin and bury you alive. That way you’ll never get out.”

“Cold, Cunningham. Metal, but cold.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed a few pieces of popcorn with the hand Eddie hadn’t painted yet, and popped them in her mouth.

He watched her as she ate. He did that sometimes. It was a little strange, but she knew it came from a place of concern. He wanted to know that she was taking care of herself. Even though she sometimes wanted to shove his face away from her direction, she couldn’t fault him for worrying. She worried about him too.

She worried about what the people in their small-minded town would do if they found out what he was. She was well aware that people in her parents' circles believed with their whole hearts that things like demons and Halloween witches were real. She’d heard some of them rile themselves up by talking about burning witches alive like it was seventeenth-century Salem and not twenty-first-century Hawkins. She wasn’t sure what her parents thought of their friends' righteous rages, but the sheer fact of their keeping those friendships meant Chrissy had to sneak around if she wanted to be herself.

They didn’t know she was friends with Eddie Munson, let alone about their weekly girls’ nights. She let them think she was sleeping over at a teammate’s house. They didn’t know she was a lesbian, despite the rumors at school, or about the Tarot cards and crystals she kept under her bed. She knew that her parents loved her, even though they had a difficult time showing it. But she didn’t know if that love would change if they knew these things. She didn’t really want to know. She looked forward to the day she left for college and would be able to stop feeling like she was sneaking around all the time.

“Maybe we could invite Robin next time?” She said, timidly.

“Fuck yeah,” he pumped his fist in the air. “Mark my words, we are getting you a girlfriend.”

Chrissy giggled. She was really going to miss him when college started next fall.

Tag list:

@yourebuckingkiddingme @mickalaem @live-the-fangirl-life @mojowitchcraft @gregre369 @farfaras @loguine-linguine @spectrum-spectre @sidekick-hero @rozzieroos @steddieloverrr @hellion-child @ littlewildflowerkitten @ novacorpsrecruit @ rainbow-freckle @anaibis @ madigoround @ estrellami-1

#steddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #platonic hellcheer #vampire eddie munson #Eddie Munson the boomer vampire

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nklmg · 9 months

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Every 3 months, like clockwork, Ren of the Stellaron Hunters would stop by the Express to give DH the needed stuff for his dragon nesting - Ren’s own clothes. Every time, DH would huff and pouty, “Why are you here? I don’t need your clothes. You aren’t my mate anymore.” and Ren would just raise his eyebrow, he clearly knows DH is embarrassed and midly annoyed with his dragonic biology. But he wastes no time arguing with a fussy, slightly warm with heat DH, he either leaves the package in front of the Archive or gives it to the Trailblazer whenever DH smacks it away with his tail. DH always takes them, he knows, when DH returns them afterwards and he digs his nose into the pile. No amount of detergent can wash off the smell of a dragon in heat, especially for a mate. DH might run the clothes through the washing machine twice or thrice but he always ends up rubbing his face a little bit on the collars out of instinct.

DH doesn't know that the Express's Crew texts for Ren's helps multiple times on how to deal with his heat. The man tells them what he would ask from them for his nest building, which is his craving, which medicine or pillows, heat pack for his back pain, what are the the signs and how to deal with his hard-to-please attitude.

"You really handled him all by yourself back then?" The child of Kafka comments after noting down a list of the weird food DH might ask for.

"Pretty much," Ren says. The man is calm and answers and them in a low, soothing voice, awfully confidence. "He didn't like the servants to do it. He wanted people he trusted to care for him," like his mate, the man didn't spell it out loud, "It's the act and the intention that matter."

"What are you doing over there? Picking up your profession again?" The Stellaron's Child asks. Ren blows something off and there are tickling sounds of a knife's blade on stones. He hums, "Yes, I will finish it quickly and send it over to him." "Cool, also...he asked for a spare glove, but I believed he meant your glove."

Ren later appears with a small box warped in red paper and a bow, along with another set of clothes. He dresses in a fancy suit, styles his hair and even put on perfume. A lot of effort for a delivery trip to the Express's door. He won't ask to see DH and neither will the dragon.

"You sure you don't want to see him? You already dressed up, might as well shoot your shot."

"There is no need," the man smiles slowly. "He knows, I'm sure he is checking the camera right now."

And he is right. When Trailblazer knocks on the Achives's door, a DH with pink cheeks and a wagging tail peaks out, the monitor's screen behind him grow bright. He thanks them for the package and then quickly closes the door. Back in his room, DH wants to slap his lizard's brain for the uncontainable excitement the moment Ren steps foot into the Parlor Car. It's only a few step away from his room, he can feel everything, smell everything, the stimulation drove him to turn on the camera to catch the sight of that man, his mate dressed beautiful and proper, like he was going to court him. DH unconsciously purrs at the thought.

He slaps himself for real.

#renheng #the blue bird is dead

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poesparakeet-fics · 2 years

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Trap and Snap

Happy anniversary @sapphicquill! I love you more, by leaps and bounds, every time I see you. Less than a year until forever!

Anyways I found a girlfriend on tumblr and so I am naturally writing her spicy dnd tickle fic as an anniversary present. Enjoy!

Pairing: Percy/Vax

Rating: R? Adults only. Spicy. Genitals and stuff.

Tags: Bondage, consensual non-consent, playful punishment, safewords, gags, kink negotiation, aftercare, tickle torture

Gonna put this one under the cut because it really starts off in the thick of things.

“Please, Freddy. This isn’t fair.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” Percieval answered,still sitting at his workbench with his eyes glued to the fiddly piece in front of him. “I set a trap for you, specifically, and the trap caught you doing the thing you were specifically not supposed to do. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

Vax squirmed and twisted again in the leather bindings that were encircling most of his body, leaving him stretched like sinew against a stone pillar. His feet didn’t touch the ground, but straps around his ankles and wrists kept him upright while others supported his weight. The trap wasn’t even mechanical, it was magic, cobbled together from a tanglefoot bag and some study of Manners. It seemed like cheating, somehow.

“I just wanted to come see you! Say hello!” He whined, trying not to shiver at the play of cold stone and hot forge air across his skin.

“In the nude?” Percy finally looked at him like a bug under a microscope. “I’ve told you it’s not safe to play that particular game down here.”

Vax whined again, deep in the back of his throat. “It was until you started making traps.”

Percy sighed at that. “You’ll notice the trap caught you all the way over there, away from danger. It can keep you there until I’m ready to deal with you.”

“Freddy.” Vax whined some more, a flush rising across most of his naked body. Percy’s innovative spirit in tying him up was always exciting and welcome, but being ignored while it happened seemed unbearable, so he proceeded to make himself unignorable.

Percy finally sighed, putting down his tools and moving to wash his hands in the basin against the wall. “Alright. But I hope you realize that this upgrades your crime from Attempted Distraction to Distraction, and that will be reflected in how I deal with you.”

Vax’ flush got brighter, a streak of pink up the front of his trunk and around his ears. He squirmed again, careful to push himself against the bindings as pleasingly as possible.

Percy tutted, shaking his head as he approached. "You're in trouble. Stop trying to look pretty."

"I don't have to try." Vax pouted.

Percy was in his space, then, face to face. He smelled like gunpowder.

"That's true," he told Vax, gazing from between long lashes. His eyes held desire, but his voice was still flat and disciplinarian. "Yet here you are squirming like a worm on a hook to tempt me."

"Is it working?"

Percy shrugged, slipping his coat off. "Yes, but unlike some people I can still think with my brain when my dick's hard.”

“It wasn’t until your trap got fresh with me,” Vax grumbled, squirming once more to rub himself against the strap that was fastened just there.

Percy stood in front of him now, eyes expectant. “So, what now?”

Yes! Finally! Vax fixed him with his wickedest smile. “Well now you give me what I deserve, eh?”

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. “Too confident. As always."

Vax was about to deliver a cutting comeback when two fingers from each of Percy's careful hands started to play across the stretched-thin skin of each armpit and all of the air in his lungs exited via a squawk.

"Ai! No noho you can't just-- ah! Sta-haha-art there!"

"Can't I?" Percy sounded disinterested, his eyes watching the movement of his own hands closely. "Seems you're not going to stop me, are you?"

"Fu-hahaha-uck you're supposed to hahahave some build-up you ahaha-aaaaarse!" With that last squeal he was lost in hysterical giggles, the sensation building to steal his indignance away. Or his ability to express it, at least.

“I can’t let you have everything you want. That would encourage more of this behavior. Maybe I’ll just stay right here the whole time, hm? Overload you in this one spot without giving you even a taste of anything else.”

Vax gritted his teeth and tried to regain enough control to curse some more, but barely made it. “Fuck. No!”

The “no” was supposed to be “don’t you dare you asshole, my vengeance will be swift” but came out as a whimpering plea before sliding back into laughter.

Percival chuckled, the sound tumbling down Vax’ spine like a shiver. “No?” His hands changed their pace to a skittering spider walk that paced patiently from his triceps to the top of his rib cage. Vax’ laughter picked up. “Where do you want me to touch you, then?”

Vax couldn’t talk, so he arched his hips away from the pillar with a whimper. Percy tutted.

“That doesn’t really satisfy my need for revenge though, does it?”

On one downward pass he finally continued past Vax's armpits to his rib cage, pausing there with flexing fingers to watch the half-elf wail and thrash.

"This, on the other hand, is plenty satisfying. Though I still feel like I may have been tricked into giving you exactly what you wanted."

Vax's body was limp against the restraints, but his limbs were jerking like a puppet's. He had only enough breath to whine out the other man’s name, and even then he had to grit his teeth to do it. “Percyyyyy!”

“Tsk. It’s always Freddy until you start feeling like you’re in real trouble, hm?”

“I ca-hahaha-can’t!”

The speed with which Percy’s fingers stilled left Vax still gasping and giggling. He managed two quick, panicked breaths before they reappeared under his arms, perfectly poised but torturously still.

“Can’t what?” Percy purred, a predatory smile on his face.

Vax’ breathing was still embarrassingly jumpy, pinned as he was under the threat.

“I can’t *hic*-- I can’t--” Vax drew out his answer, catching his breath between hiccuping gasps, “I can’t believe *hic* what a cock you are.”

The stunned look on Percy’s face was worth everything that came after, even if it morphed quickly into indignant offense. His fingers started to spider-walk again, this time from the base of Vax’ ribcage to his triceps.

“I suppose that’s what I get for showing you mercy. Safewords do exist for a reason, don’t they?”

Vax couldn’t answer as his head was thrown back to better let the battering ram of his laughter escape. His eyes were squeezed shut. Percy’s fingers were slow, exact and patient. The methodical movements left him with no doubt about where they would be the next second, and the one after that. It turned his torment into an echo chamber of recovery, sensation and anticipation that seemed to last forever.

Suddenly the gunpowder smell got stronger, and he could feel the warm wool and linen mass of Percy’s body pressed against him. The fingers stilled, one rough hand moved to brace his arm upward, as if the restraints weren’t doing enough.

Vax’ eyes flew open with tears on their lashes, alarmed over what it all meant. His laughter turned to hiccups and pants as he tried to get as much air as he could before it started again. Percy’s face was close, chin resting thoughtfully on the wrist he was using to extend Vax’s trapped arm. Vax couldn’t see the other hand, but he could feel it ghosting up and down his side. He shivered and squeaked.

“Are you ready to apologize, yet?”

“Fuck you! I-- ehehe- I did nothing wrong!”

Percy didn’t even have the good graces to look disappointed. “Alright then, if that’s what you want.” He shifted his weight, his one hand stretching Vax’ arm upward via a grip on his elbow for the most torturous exposure possible. The other hand, warm and rough, clamped over Vax’ mouth.

“I don’t want to hear any more talking shit. Your new safeword is snapping your fingers. Understood?”

Vax snapped his fingers with both hands before flipping Percy the bird and glaring.

“Alright then,” Percy muttered, “suit yourself.”

He started to float his face over the stretched skin under Vax’ arm, his smile growing wicked as he teased with hot breath and the barest brush of his nose. He felt Vax’ panicked inhale against his hand before he heard the first whimpering cry.

“What’s the matter?” he asked with mock sympathy, the words drawing a little squeal into his palm. “Are you regretting your rudeness already?” He glanced up to see Vax’ eyes were already squeezed shut again.

“You’re going to be in quite a lot of trouble when I actually get started.”

Vax whined, head shaking. Percy huffed with laughter, only to earn yet more whining. He finally pressed his lips against pale, damp skin.

“You’re going to have to be clearer, darling.”

Vax laughter kicked in, high and hysterical. Percy enjoyed the feeling of it, the squirming against his body, the vibration of laughter against his hand, before continuing.

“You’re shaking your head. Does it mean ‘No, I don’t regret my rudeness?’ or ‘No, please don’t tickle me just the way I like it, or I’ll cry?”

Vax couldn’t respond but to wail, his whole body jumping and thrashing, but without an inch of movement where he needed it most. A tear of laughter bumped over Percy’s knuckles.

“So you see, I’m having a touch of trouble understanding you. I’ll need to insist on absolute clarity. The kind only your safeword can provide.”

When Vax’ fingers still didn’t snap he started to place warm, gentle kisses along the same tricep-to-rib pathway he’d started on and let the sensation build.

Vax felt he might be going mad. Each kiss carried with it such a deluge of sensation-- rough stubble, soft lips, hot breath-- that he couldn’t get used to it. Each one pulled one more thread away from the rope that was his resistance until nothing was left. The kiss that broke him wasn’t special, but he snapped anyway. So did his fingers.

Percy must have been watching, because he withdrew as soon as it happened. The restraints let Vax go, presumably at some command from Percy he hadn’t noticed. He immediately draped himself across the shorter man, still half-giggling from exhaustion.

“Take care of me on your cot, you monster. I’m not walking up to the bedroom with this hard-on.”

Percy tugged him over to the cot to do as he asked, but not without mumbling something about Vax deserving to be left in this state for his distraction crimes.

“Oh, hush. You designed a bondage trap. There are other traps, you know.”

Percy turned a little pink and stopped his grumbling.

#percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #vax'ildan #vax/percy #Critickle role

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inkskinned · 3 years

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she trails one finger down my cheek, sighing. "I'm gonna miss you."

i roll my eyes, lying back against her uncolored bedspread, watching the room settle into the correct form. she always gets like this, right before an Assignment. she takes our Roles a little bit too seriously. my brain is already sloshing with the pacing of the Narrative - a little stilted, a little distant. I'd been in Close Third in the last one, and more poetic. her hands make shadow puppets on the bright pink walls; the room shifts and become covered in art; shifts and become covered in band posters. then back to pink.

she'd been my Best Friend Forever since kindergarten, usually. the oldest we'd ever met each other was in middle school, but that Assignment had been pretty bleak anyway, and she'd only been in-and-out of the picture. I'd barely seen her. i loved her, usually, from the moment i met her - she usually had done something Charming in some way, solidifying our bond for the Audience.

"you're gonna be fine," i tell her. "we'll be back here in no time."

she sighs and curls up next to me, turning so our noses almost touch. she smells familiar, like drying ink. then she smells like mint and mown grass. then she smells like herself, for a second, before she's back to peppermint. "well, you're gonna be fine," she says. "The Main Character always is."

"this again." i roll my eyes a second time. this Assignment feels like it is heavy in the eye-rolling. i had told her before: i'm jealous of her Role just like she's jealous of mine. the Best Friend Forever gets to be quirky, spunky, cute. she always has a personality like a firecracker - even if sometimes that firecracker had a harsh edge to it. in most Assignments, she'd run around, starting - or getting me out of - loads of trouble. she gets to have grand adventures without too much Character Development, which is always painful for me and kind of annoying. she is always Assigned cool interests and hobbies, whereas i can feel my singular Driving Interest crystalizing in my bloodstream. "i think this time i'm Interested in yearbook. Gag me." I mime choking, she wrinkles her little lopsided nose in a giggle.

"you just hate it from stuff that's leftover from your last Assignment, though." she looks up at the ceiling. "you'll be actually Interested soon. in this one i'm gonna have a secret thing about fashion magazines. now that is gag-me."

"remember when you were like, so -"

"like so into porcelain dolls?"

"and i was like, Interested in -"

"you were deep in the paint of effing biology." she wrinkles her nose again, like a little mouse, and i realize i love this new face, the way i love all of her faces. i like this tic she has. sometimes her tics are supposed-to-be-ugly; i love them every time anyway. she's my Best Friend Forever, I can't not love whatever she is. she bites her lip. "oh gosh. i'm already talking like the Assignment. that's quick."

"sounds Young Adult. I haven't been able to swear in, like, a millennia." i don't usually get to swear though, regardless of Audience, since swearing is a Best Friend Forever thing. although sometimes i would be Assigned to just-swear if it was a big-deal kind of moment, and those Assignments were fun. the words would pop out of my mouth like a soap bubble, big and afraid of themselves. and my Best Friend Forever would always look at me, shocked and awestruck.

i loved when she looked at me like that. it wasn't in every Assignment, but it was always so gratifying to be in her eye like that. to be seen, the way a Best Friend Forever sees you.

she takes my hand gently. she's usually a little bit bigger than me, but in this one, she's smaller than average. slim. we're probably going to have a Big Fight about jealousy - whenever she's slimmer, the Audience needs to know she's also Insecure about it. Usually it's the other way around - I'm slimmer, and Insecure that i don't have her curves. in those, she's always "better with boys." until, at least...

like she reads my mind, she sighs again. "I know. i just hate the part where you meet Him."

i'm not startled by how on-the-same-page (ha! maybe i'm Funny in this one) we are. she's my Forever person. the Him changes a lot, but she is a delicate constant. she knows me - even when i'm not-me. or not this me. whatever. "i mean, it might be different this time."

she sits up. i sit up too, disoriented by the strange violence of the action. she pushes the heel of her palm into her cheekbone. "it sucks, you know?"

i can tell by how she wrinkles her nose that she is understating it. i've known her Forever, after all.

nose wrinkle. "we're always the most dynamic and interesting part. you and i, and how we grow up together, and how we interact, and how we try to get over the same things. i know we have a lot of Big Fights, but we always end back up together at the end."

it's a sore subject. i betray her a lot for Him. i can't help it. "i know, but maybe this time - i mean, it's not always ..."

her eyes flash while she turns to me. "you just, like, get caught up in Him. every time. and i have to, like, watch you leave."

"i don't always leave." i feel pouty, suspicious that she is right. it is a Main Character thing to be Right in The End, not a Best Friend Forever thing. i don't always do it the Right Way, but I always end up back here, apologizing to her. she always ends up being okay with it, because i'm always Right.

"you do always leave. and it doesn't make any effing sense, because He never makes sense like we do, you know, like... you both are never - like, your Development with Him, is never like, actually...." she moves her hands around in the air as if trying to find the term, but gives up. "the Audience even thinks it."

I hold my breath at her blasphemy. "don't bring the Audience into -"

she grabs at the roots of her hair. "i'm right, though. you meet Him, and because you are a girl, and you are the Main Character, you love Him, and you forget about me." her hands drop to her lap and her thin shoulders pull forward as if she has been suddenly deflated. the anger all seeping out around her. she's usually not able to stay angry at me long - loving me is her Role.

the air feels heavy between us. thick of something unwritten. i don't know the rules of this one. in the space between Assignments, she can be a little wild. her Role doesn't sink her as deep into the Assignment - she has wiggle room where i don't.

i try to tease her, nudging her with my shoulder. "i didn't realize you had a jealous Assignment this time."

she looks up at me. biting the inside of her cheek. i can see her jaw working against the muscle. "i'm always jealous," she whispers.

"that's natural," i assure her. "it's a Best Friend Forever thing. I'm always jealous, too, just a little. you know that."

"it's because we actually see each other. because we actually know each other. because we're made for each other." she doesn't drop my eyes. her hands take mine again, warm and soft. again, that feeling that she is a familiar love - a long love, a deep love - comes sloshing up inside me. i was made to love her, and i was also made to betray her. in order for the Character Development to work, i have to love her hard, so it hurts when i choose Him. she has to love me hard, too. "it's..." she breathes deep, as if through a choke. i wonder how much longer before we'll be in the Assignment, and unable to talk like this. it can't be much longer at all. "it's just stupid. every time, you see Him, and for no reason, he's just better and you leave and -"

"you know i don't want to hurt you, though!" it's an old argument. i feel the pattern of it, glad to be back on script. "you know i never -"

"you just see Him, and it's like magic, and it doesn't mater that He makes no sense - "

"it's about growing up! it's about Character Development! it's not about you, you know that, i love you, i just always Love Him, and -"

"and i am jealous -" she grabs my face, desperate, her voice thick. the room around us starts to shift, and i can tell by how it is pulling itself together that it's solidifying into the Assignment. someone is writing us into a space. her words are garbled for a second, and i feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as she fights the Assignment.

"we're gonna be okay," i promise, "i'll love you the whole time, you know that, even if -"

when she kisses me, something happens in the pit of my stomach. i've been Kissed many times, by many Hims. it is sometimes electric, dizzying, powerful. it is sometimes cataclysmic. it is sometimes rushed, hurried, overwhelming - sometimes harsh, dominant. i have been Kissed until i saw stars, and Kissed perfect.

this is not that. i don't have words for this. i have no narrative. there is only her, and only me, and no story, her hands on my cheeks. i realize, in the seconds we have - she's crying.

then i am on her bed again, which is pink and purple patchwork, and she is across the room, lying on the floor, kicking her heels up while she reads a magazine lazily. we've known each other from preschool, when she punched someone for stealing my candy. we both got detention - who knew preschoolers could get detention - and we'd be inseparable ever since. she listens to loud music but loves fashion magazines; and i love her.

she's saying something, but my old phone pings, lying on top of the Yearbook editing i'm doing. i look down, frozen. she asks me something, but i can't hear her, staring at the notification on my screen. i don't even notice her getting up to investigate.

her hair tickles my cheek while she reads the phone over my shoulder.

she grins. "oh my gosh." she says. "you got invited to the party, holy guacamole. do you know who's gonna be there? baby, you need to go."

i know i need to. after all, after a little complaining, i am going to go. we will try on all her clothes first. and while i'm there, i'll be a Main Character, and not-quit-fit-in.

and while i'm there, i'm going meet Him. and it will be Magical. for some reason, there are tears pricking at the side of my eyes, even though i have no idea why. this story is funny, and light, and amusing.

she grabs my hand, and she is warm, and familiar, and i feel Insecure that she's so thin. i feel Insecure - and - something - a memory, or a -

"come on," she says, and, for a second, something in her eyes is deeply sad, and the time between us feels like fraying satin.

but then she breaks out into a grin. "i know just what to dress you in. i can't wait. you're gonna meet Him."

#sorry mobile users #this does have a read more but tumblr succcksss #short story #fiction #spilled ink #prose #me: im gonna write a funny post about like #how fucked up straight media is #me: hang on what if i spend 2 hours writing THIS inSTEAD

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