#v: you think you're in gold (but i can see the dirt in your lines). | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starryeyedadmirer · 1 year

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Brad Pitt: Cleaning Day

-Brad x Reader-

!!CW!! — None

Synopsis: Though you enjoy spending time with your neighbor — Brad — you can’t deny that he’s got a serious hygiene issue. His body is dirty, his house is dirty… and damn, his mind is dirty too. He usually lives like an overgrown sewer rat, but — by some miracle — you’ve managed to stop by his place on a rare occasion — Cleaning Day — and, in the spirit of friendship, you’ve volunteered your help. Though he doesn’t take you up on your offer quite the way you expected him to — as far as cleaning the apartment goes — he does have a job for you… and there’s something in you that just can’t refuse it.

Words: 1,538(+/-)

A/N: I saw a few photos and gifs of Brad going to town on his belly button (posted them all below) and lost my fucking mind!!! God, these are so damn hot😫!!! The idea of him being a gross bastard to his core — just living in dirt — and helping him clean things up is like heaven in my mind… especially after seeing him dig for gold like that. Also, sorry if the writing isn’t the best. It was super late when I first wrote this, and I haven’t revised it in months. Anyway, this story doesn’t really have much to it… it’s literally just the interaction before things get weird… but I may pump out a part 2 for it, if I’m feeling up to it. Anyway, enjoy!!!

Wattpad Link — “Celebrity Worship Fics” Series

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You love going over to Brad's house, it's your favorite hangout spot on the weekends — when you don't have to go to work. You have a good time whenever you're there — playing card games with him and his girlfriend, smoking old cigars, and drinking cheap beer, right out of the case. You feel like a kid in a playground when you're hanging out at his place... but his apartment is far from perfect. Brad's got a pretty major issue with dirt... it seems to pile up wherever he goes. He always got a bunch of shit laid out all over his place — grody, smelly underwear strewn out around the room; old food containers that needed to be thrown away ages ago; and loads of loose, stinking trash. You try to excuse his less-than-satisfactory cleaning habits... as deplorable as they are. He's a close friend of yours... and you grew up with seven older brothers at home — what's a few pairs of nasty underwear to you? If you've learned anything from your childhood, it's that a little dirt never hurt anyone... even if there's a lot of it. You're at Brad's door now — on the first Saturday of the month — waiting for him to answer your knock.

"Hey," he beams, opening up for you, "What's up, mi compadre? It's been a while, huh?" He's standing in his doorway — butt-naked — with only a set of yellow cleaning gloves to cover his hands. It's a nice sight for sore eyes — the look of his lean, toned body... his well-defined v-line, and smooth thighs — but definitely not what you were expecting to see at this time of day.

"Y—Yeah...," you stammer, trying your best to stop your eyes from wandering too far down, "... about a week... I think. How you been... man?"

"Pretty good... pretty damn good." He gives you a quick once-over with his eyes — taking note of the fact that you're wearing clothes — then looks down at himself. "Oh... uh, so about that, mi amigo. It's... uh... cleaning day around here. I like to be free when I clean... let the little guy out for some fresh air, ya know... give 'em a nice mist-bath with the good stuff."

"Uh... cool," you reply, awkwardly staring down and his junk, "Well... I hate to bother you on cleaning day, but are we still on for the evening? I brought this new racing game I think you'd like. You can make your own car... customize the license plate, and all that kind of stuff."

"Nah, man," he sighs, looking back into his den, "Can't today. Gotta fix the place up. You can, uh... come back tomorrow though. I'm game then, if you are." He rubs a hand over his chiseled abs. They're pretty great for a guy who sits around on his ass all day — well defined, like an eight-pack of bread rolls. He's gotta be on steroids, or some hard drugs — it's the only explanation that could make any sense... for everything.

"Yeah... yeah... I'm down with that. I'll definitely come by tomorrow. I'm still free today though... I could stay and help you clean if you need."

He gives you a half-cocked smile. "Nah, man... you don't have to do that."

"Oh... okay. I don't know why I even offered. I'm sure a guy in as good a shape as you can handle a thorough house-cleaning on his own."

"Oh... thanks. You won't believe this, but I'm totally stuffed right now, dude. Found an old box of donuts tucked under my bed... couldn't not eat 'em." He looks down at his stomach, and pulls at the skin on his belly button. "Guess my abs still show pretty nice, huh?"

"Yeah. They're pretty sick."

He pulls up at his skin — admiring each and every ab on his stomach — then tugs at the rim of his belly button once more. "Woah," he says to himself, "Looks pretty gnarly in there. Guess I gotta clean that too. A little spray oughta do."

Brad looks back up at you, with a douchey smirk across his face, and starts poking around inside the hole. His yellow-gloved finger swivels around within the confines of the tight rim, squelching and slipping with the sound of rubber and sweat... it does something to you. You feel yourself getting flustered almost immediately — jittery, and warm all over — although you have no idea exactly why. He's an attractive man — no doubt about that — standing completely naked before you, in all his sculpted glory.... and though he looks like a Roman dream, seeing him in his natural state isn't what's thrown you for a loop. You've been at his door for minutes now, without having a single reaction to his nudity — not even the slightest erection — and yet, the mere sight of him touching his navel has got you throbbing.

"Digging for gold, huh?" You joke, trying to diffuse your sudden tension. "Those gloves really came in handy. Wouldn't wanna get all that gunk on your finger."

"Sure," he shrugs, putting the rubbery digit up to his right nostril. There's specks of black dirt and lint all over it — gross stuff from the depths of his umbilical hole. It's obvious that it hasn't seen a drop of soap in ages... but what else would you expect from a guy like him? Brad's the kind of guy who brags about how many days he can go with a single pair of underwear around his hips (8 days is his most recent record)... who fills his tub up with bleach, to wash his dirty sheets when they start to stink... the kind of slob who eats months-old donuts from under his bed, without a single qualm. "Woah... that stinks," he groans, pulling his head back from his finger, "Get a whiff of that."

He puts his hand up to your face, swiping the black speckles right over your lips. "Woah! God, man! What's on that thing," you exclaim. Acting purely on instinct, you push his hand away, and cover your nose with your shirt. His glove smells disgusting — of old cheese and festering sweat — like the deepest crevice of an armpit, that hasn't seen a single swipe of deodorant for years. You can only describe the odor as... horrid. "Damn, Brad! You gotta spray something in there, dude! What the fuck!"

"I know... that's awful." He closes his eyes for a second, taking another swipe of the scent for himself, and leans in. "You, uh.... said you're free today, right?"

"Yeah... I am."

"Well, uh... if you insist on staying, you could help me clean. An assistant spot just opened up around here... cleaning assistant, that is... and I know a good place where you can start."

"Really? Okay. What do you want me to clean first?"

He grabs your shoulder with his soiled glove, and ushers you into his apartment. "Here's the thing, man. Um... I'm gonna need a little help getting around in there, ya know? Why don't you, uh... get down on the floor... and clean it out for me. I swear it's not a big job... just something quick... for the both of us."

"W—What's that?"

"It's, uh... it's my belly button. Go ahead and get in there for me... clean it up a little." He forces you onto your knees with a smile on his face, looking down at you like you're one of the numerous streetwalkers that he pays to sleep with him, every now and then. "Get going, man... that thing won't clean itself." His dick is right in front of your face — hanging over his balls — half-erect.

"Uh... okay... you answer," staring nervously at his cock. That hot feeling in your face intensifies — shooting throughout your entire body — and commands you to do as he pleases. "Want me to use that blue spray over on the windowsill? That's Windex, right? I think Windex is pretty good on skin."

"No... no," he whispers, "Use your tongue... like a cat. The tongue is a great tool, dude... nature's sponge. They're super sensitive... can get into every nook and cranny of any object. Just feel around in there, man... pick out some of the crap. I know there's a lot more gunk where that came from." His hand gently caresses your chin, pulling you in closer to the shallow hole. You can smell it from where you are — the terrible sweaty odor is ripe on your nostrils.

"The... the crap?"

"Yeah. Go ahead, man... time's a'ticking. Oh, and once you finish the job, I'll let you play that racing game on the TV in my bedroom... while I clean this place up. But you gotta do it well, okay. I'll watch you work... and inspect it once you're done. It don't have to be spotless... just lick around until you don't taste anymore dirt." His dick twitches in front of your face, perking up at the mere thought of you licking his belly button. He's got lust in his eyes, and that same douchey grin on his face — staring down at you. "Now, let's see that pretty little tongue of yours get to work, huh."

"Oh... okay. Sure."

Thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️!!!

#starry eyes #brad pitt #brad pitt belly/tummy #brad pitt navel #smut fic #brad pitt smut

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zmediaoutlet · 2 years

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Oh no. Now I need to hear about deanna/benny + sam.

Deanna has to pull over so Sam can puke. It's not one of his banner moments.

"Jesus," she mutters, not loud but loud enough he can hear it over his heaving, and there's a small hand on his back, heavy through his coat. "Yeah, you're just fine. You want me to hold your hair?"

He works his jaw. Spits. No blood; that's something. Dark forest night -- they haven't even made it out of the Hundred Mile Wilderness. He drags a hand over his mouth. His head hurts. Deanna makes some impatient sound and lets off the brake -- the car lurches forward a yard, two -- and the mess is left behind, back on the mossy verge, before she turns the key and the engine-noise cuts and all that's left is the night, silent after the roar of a V-8, damp, dark.

Sam swivels on the bench, sits with his bootheels out on the dirt. Creak of the car door. The trunk, and then -- his sister, crouching in front of him, holding out a water bottle. "I ain't driving all the way back to Kansas with hork-breath," she says. Crass as always; as always, softer than she seems. Though lately it's hard to tell where the line is. "What'd you eat, anyway?"

There's no answer so Sam doesn't answer. He sips at the water, careful, knowing from that bout of food poisoning in Altoona how a splash on a frail stomach can set the whole thing going again. It tastes stale -- when was the last time they refreshed their road stash, since they moved into the bunker? -- but it's clean, and clean's all that matters. He swallows, and breathes slow and deep, and Deanna pushes the hair back from his face, tips his chin up, trying to see him in the moonlight. He lets her. She's less grabby now than she was when she first got back from Purgatory. Downright solicitous, sometimes. He didn't know he could miss it. How demanding she'd be.

"You look like crap," she says.

"Thanks," Sam says, and Deanna's eyebrows lift. Sam shrugs. "I'm fine."

Her eyes narrow, and then slide very deliberately to the left. "That your stomach lining all over the dirt there?"

"Dee," Sam says, and she presses her lips together. The cabin light shines from over his shoulder, makes her all gold-and-amber, brown leather, her hair a shining thick wave over one shoulder. No necklace but he's mostly, sort of, used to that at this point. Mostly. Her shirt's unbuttoned about to her navel, like always, and there's a dark spot -- he reaches, not thinking, but she holds still as he pushes the collar of her jacket back, moves the shadow, and there, on the camisole, in the gap the plaid doesn't cover. Blood.

"Oh," she says. Softer than he'd thought. "That's --"

Her fingers go to it, quick. Hiding even though it's already been seen. Her mouth tips, sorry, and Sam says, "Benny," which is stupid, because of course it's Benny's. Of course. Even if he feels like his insides are slowly scrambling into a thick shredded mulch he should know better.

"Decapitation makes a mess," Deanna says, high and light, and she stands up, but Sam's still all scrambled inside and he reaches out and takes her hand, which he doesn't much do anymore. Maybe Deanna's scrambled, too, because she lets him keep it, which she doesn't much do anymore either, and leans against the door to boot, her head tipped down, her fingers cold but warming against Sam's skin.

She'd been angry at him, for Amelia. More than angry. This frigid, to-the-bone fury, that froze any attempt at explanation of those terrifying lonely lost days when she was gone and there were no avenues to find her. Sam knows he was being punished on several fronts -- that he'd left her in Purgatory, that he'd stopped hunting. Amelia was a specific target and Sam got it, in a way, but it wasn't fair -- it wasn't, especially when they'd both been alone before and done what they had to survive. And then, when he found out about Benny --

"Where'd you bury him?" he says.

Deanna's wrist twists. Sam doesn't let her go. "Somewhere safe," she says. Sam looks up; she's looking off into the woods, jaw squared. "Don't want anyone getting to him."

"I won't," Sam says.

"This from the guy who socked him in the face the first time you met," Deanna says, dry, and Sam says, more firmly, "Dee," and then, softer: "I won't. I swear."

She closes her eyes and leans back against the car. The punch wasn't fair. It had been a long and annoying day and Sam had been out of his mind worrying about her and then to get down to that dock and see that she'd been -- and not just with some other guy, but that other guy being a monster, with all the barbed comments she'd made about his taste in women for all those years -- okay, so it hadn't been Sam at his best. He's never done all that well with rivals. Sam had wanted to punch him again, when he showed up smirking in Purgatory, but Deanna had chosen to stay with Sam, after all, and anyway it would've been beyond wrong to bring up any kind of competition in front of Bobby, and after all -- Benny had saved them, in the end. Sam knows for a fact it wasn't for his own sake. He wonders, now, what Deanna had said. How she'd asked. It hardly matters. Sam knows his sister. He knows why Benny said yes.

There's a streak on Deanna's jaw, shining in the thin light. Sam runs his thumb over the back of her knuckles. "Sorry," he says, and hopes it means everything he wants it to. Knows it can't. That it's not even close to enough.

She squeezes his fingers. He watches her lick her lips, and tip her head back and blink at the moon, and then scrub the knuckles of her other hand quick over her jaw. "No worries," she says, "you didn't get it on the upholstery," quick and rough and easy.

Sam sighs, and nods. "Let's get a motel," he says, and lets her hand go. "I need a shower."

"Oh, tell me about it," Dee says, but before Sam can close his door she ducks down and tucks his hair back from his temples and presses a soft, full kiss against his cheekbone, in a way that could be sisterly except for how she breathes warm and sweet against his jaw, and lets her fingers trail down to his throat, and for how she smells -- like everything Sam wants, or has wanted, or will. She hangs there, close, and Sam touches her chest, and he feels how she takes a deep, steadying breath, before she lifts away, and says, "If we stop for burgers in Bangor, you going to hurl them all over the 95?" and Sam tips his head back against the seat and says -- he doesn't know what, something, because she's back in the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life, and he thinks, somewhere very private where prayers come from, thank you. On that strange grey plane it probably can't be heard, but Benny brought them back together, twice. Sam puts everything else away, and turns his head, and watches his sister drive. Thank you, he thinks, again, and he means it.

#answers #wincest #my writing #deanna #dean/benny #just a little shorty to keep my hand in #feeling sam in a bittersweet victory mood rn #imagining his sister bent over a treetrunk under a vamp #but knowing that he *won*#so he can afford to be gracious #sam finds it easy to forgive once he's already won #have you noticed?

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Game of Thrones - 46 DAENERYS V (pages 472-483)

Dany takes 'eat your heart out' to a whole new pre-natal-vitamin-diet level, then, some prophecy is dropped and so is Viserys when he finally crosses the line in public.

If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable; the child might be stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female.

Is there a polite way to say 'get wrecked'?

When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen.

... but baby girls are bad, the Dothraki stan grannies only.

Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds.

Okay, babe, but that's the shore area, further into the lake might full on just drop out and go down. Some great videos of lakes like that online, water so clear you can see the bottom and you think, 'oh, ten meters down, tops' but no that's a hundred meters down. Couple of places in the ocean that do it too, nice sandy beaches ten meters into the water and then sudden the group just drops.

Then her huge khal took her by the hips and lifted her into the air, as he might lift a child.

You are a child.

"The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd."

Big yikes, mighty fine red flag you got there buddy. Like... you get how that's just not feasible right? and also that that would involve so much rape and enslavement? You get that when they say 'Stallion who Mounts the World' they mean 'conqueror who's going to fuck everyone over'? Let me guess, Dany is the real 'Stallion' who Mounts the World? Her choosing not to join the dosh khaleen and instead going on her tour of the east is the beginning of the Stallion Mounting the World.

Because we all know Rhaego is stillborn... and a lizard baby.

Dany: bro, stahp, you're being an embarrassment, also don't spill blood here, that's super cursed.

She's forgotten she spilled his blood in this city hasn't she? We all know it was self defense, but it still happened.

The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering... yet no drop of blood was spilled. He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

'Curiously calm,' yeah that'd be the trauma response. Looks like you rolled disassociation with a side dish of compartmentalization. We just saw a similar case in the process of breaking down, so ... you're not going to have fun with that.

But also: holy crap, that is so much worse than the show. I mean, I know it shouldn't be because it's basically the same thing, but, somehow his head being stuck in the pot with the molten gold is just worse than having it poured on top?

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #daenerys targeryan #a chapter a day reading

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seajudge · 4 years

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@seavillain from [ x ]

there’s one terrifying moment where daniel thinks jacob might change his mind and leave. it’s as horrifying as losing a hand—as a beloved prince, he is not so used to being denied a want, no matter how large or small. he could stroll through floraison’s capital market square, pointing through shop windows, and no one would deny him. i want this, and this, and this. the prince-captain may be worth far more than a piece of jewelry, but daniel finds the feeling of wanting is the same. i want this. he licks his lower lip with a purposeful slowness.

‘ i am usually right. it is one of my many talents. ’ the taste of drink and jacob on his tongue makes him braver than usual, more pliable in the other’s hands. still willing to be as insufferable as his slight modesty will allow, but softer, too. the scratch in his voice denotes the difference from the man at dinner and the man in his tent, being kissed by a foreign prince. there’s electricity at the base of his spine where jacob’s hand rests, an untouched land where none have dared to settle for more than a night. he hesitates before he leans into it, testing. his stomach turns. as if gripping for purchase on a rowdy sea, he reaches for jacob’s collar, twisting it between dainty fingers. a thousand things to say sit between them and daniel does not know which to pick, which is in his best interest and which will earn him the most favor, the most ire. perhaps it’s the drink. perhaps it’s the feeling of being kissed, genuinely kissed, by someone who presents such an unknown factor in his life. but whatever the cause, in a rare turn of events, he settles for what he wants to say rather than what he ought to. it, too, feels more precious than any jewelry in a marketplace.

‘ am i your temptation, then? ’ his voice is so small that it’s almost unrecognizable. there is a bit of preening to it, the eager willingness to be adored, but fear remains. jacob is not one of his subjects who will climb through the mud for him. they are equals in this—by the end of things they may end up side by side, their heads on pikes outside a city wall. it takes away some of his bravado to know this, to know that jacob is not so easily won. his fingers clutch tighter, like that could stop the prince-captain if he wished to leave. ‘ you will regret it. there are easier paths to walk than mine. ’

#seavillain #v: you think you're in gold (but i can see the dirt in your lines).

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m0chaminx · 3 years

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Kingo | The Things I'd Do

*•.¸♡Request : none

*•.¸♡Prompt : none

*•.¸♡𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : Smut!!!,P in V sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willie),Pet names (love, baby etc.), Slight begging, Very slight teasing Minors DNI

*•.¸♡Paring : Kingo x F!Eternal Reader

Reader has magnetism manipulation

*•.¸♡𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : You had been flirting with Kingo and he finally made a move

*•.¸♡Words : 1300+

You pushed Kingo to the side as a Deviant rushed through. "I had 'em!" Kingo complained throwing his hands up a small pout on his lips. With the gold covering your hand, you rolled your eyes throwing your hand out and any surrounding metal followed your order burring itself into the Deviant killing it on the spot. Your head turned to the side seeing another Deviant rush at you but the familiar gold power ball shot into its side knocking it over to Gilgamesh who finished it off. Kingo chuckled walking to stand in front of you.

"Let me guess, you had em," Kingo mocked flicking your nose. You flicked your fingers out in front of you using the metal lining of Kingo's collar to bring his face closer to yours. You brushed your lips just centimeters from his, and even as your eyes were trained on his lips you could see the blush run across his cheeks.

"I wasn't worried, I knew you had em," You teased eyes flickering to his before letting him go. Kingo stumbled back watching you as you saunter over to Thena.

"What was that?" Sprite asked letting herself be seen standing next to Kingo. Kingo cursed jumping as he noticed her. "So? What's with you and Y/N?"

"Uhhh," Kingo tried to think of an excuse other than wanting to fuck you so hard, so perfectly, so good that you're screaming and crying. "It's called flirting." Kingo managed to speak out followed after you. The blush on his cheeks didn't leave as the dirty thoughts didn't leave his mind. The thoughts of pinning you against the wall, clamping a hand on your moth as you shoved his cock deep inside, over and over and-

"Jesus Kingo," Druig called in surprise watching him pass through the walls of Babylon. "Your thoughts are very loud my friend." Druig laughed watching Kingo turn nearly as red as Makkari's amour. "So our daring Y/N is who you have your eyes set on... along with other things-"

"Okay Druig, I get it," Kingo nearly yelled in defense. "Don't say anything." Kingo pointed a finger at Druig in a threat.

"Alright, alright," Druig chuckled holding his hands up in defense. "But, and you didn't hear this from me, she takes a swim after the battle, down at the lake a mile or two from the crop fields." Druig laughed as Kingo looked stunned at the information already seeing the cogs in his head turn. "Go on then-lover boy." Kingo nodded rushing off past the walls of the town.

You stuck your head under the water trying to rid it of the dirt and the sticky blood from the Deviants. As you breached the water, it covering the top of your chest, you heard the rustling of the trees and mumbling of a very familiar person. "Hello Kingo," You called your back facing him.

"Y/N/N, you heard me coming?" Kango asked stopping at the edge of the water.

"I know your footsteps," You admitted squeezing the water from your hair. "Are you joining me?" You finally turned to face him. "You can leave your amour with mine." You nodded to a rock where your dark red and white amour was rested against. Kingo sighed, this was his only shot. Kingo unclipped the top of his amour revealing his bare chest, and suddenly all your cocky confidence was gone. Kingo didn't only act like a god, but he was also sculpted like one.

"No snarky comment?" Kingo asked in a teasing tone, stripping off his pants, not right now. You swore if Kingo wasn't wearing any underwear you would've cum right then and there. "Star truck?" Kingo stood by the edge just to tease you longer. You sighed using your abilities to pull on the bracelet you gifted him. He stumbled into the water and once it was up to hit waist you dunked him under finally letting him go. You laughed as you watched Kingo come back up whipping his hair around trying to get the water out of his eyes, once he manages that he used both his hands to slick his hair back.

"You all good?" You joked watching as Kingo was sending you a death stare. Your eyes flicked down and you instantly regretted your choice as you watched water roll down his neck, off his shoulders and down his sculpted chest before finally meeting the water again. You didn't even realize Kingo reached out until he took a soft hold of your jaw.

"Distracted love?" Kingo teased his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. You copied his movement, and without even thinking you wrapped your arms around his neck pressing your lips hard against his. Kingo kissed back almost immediately, keeping one hand on your jaw the other taking your waist and pulling you closer. He sucked in a harsh breath and a cocky smirk broke onto his face. He felt your bare chest pressing against his. He brought his hand up to squeeze one in his hand and you broke the kiss to let out a whine that Kingo chuckled at. You let your head hang back as he sucked on the skin of your neck, switching between biting and sucking and letting his tongue run over his marks to contrast the rough nips.

"Kingo, please- please do something," You begged, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Kingo nipped one last time at your collar bone before taking you into another heated kiss. His hand moved from your breast to your thighs meaning to take off your underwear but gripped them hard when he didn't feel them. "I knew you were coming, I don't want to wait any longer."

You're explanation made Kingo chuckle lightly and caress your cheek in adoration. "So thoughtful and sweet, aren't you love?" Kingo praised finally losing his underwear and tossing them onto a nearby rock. You nodded trying to pull Kingo impossibly closer, "There's no need to rush princess."

"I have been waiting for this since the moment I saw you," You confessed looking at Kingo with complete affection "But you were too goddamn thick to realize." Your laugh at the end of the sentence reassured Kingo that you were merely teasing him. Kingo hooked his hands under your thighs bringing you up to straddle his waist.

"Well, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long," Kingo 'apologized', pressing you to one of the smoother rocks nearby. "Let's not keep this from you any longer." Kingo lined his cock at your entrance pressing himself deep inside you. You both let out small sighs as you finally felt full and Kingo finally felt your walls grip him. "Fuck, your tight." Kingo let himself fall forward slightly catching himself on his right hand which pressed against the rock. Your head hung back and your hands tightened on Kingo's shoulders and he attached his lips to your collar bone again. Kingo started his slow deep thrust, rocking you against the rock.

"Holy shit, Kingo," Your moans your quieter than he expected but they were so much pretty this way, he wasn't here now to make you beg and scream, this was about you and him as one. "So good."

Kingo slipped his hand to your waist pulling you close and moving his lips back onto yours. Kingo watched your eyes screw shut as he sped up slightly, "Look at me please," Kingo pleaded, moving his hand off the rock to hold your cheek. You opened your eyes watching Kingo.

"Please, I'm close," You wined tugging on Kingo hair. Kingo groaned pulling you into a kiss his hand dropping down to rub circles on your clit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kingo." Kingo bit on your lip as you moaned in his mouth.

"I'm close baby," Kingo moaned pressing harder against your clit. You let out a loud moan tossing your head back as clenched on his cock as you came. Kingo fell forward burying his head in your neck letting out a breathy moan shooting his cum inside you.

"Holy gods Kingo," You sighed as he pulled out setting your legs in the water. Kingo kissed you one last time before pulling you into the water. Kingo used sign language, to say I love you. You pulled up both back up, "I love you too."

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#the eternals #marvel #marvel x reader #eternals mcu #avengers smut #marvel eternals #eternals #makkari #eternals movie #kingo eternals #kingo x reader #kingo x you #kingo x y/n #kingo smut

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theapotelesma · 3 years

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𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡

“i am too pure for you or anyone. your body hurts me as the world hurts god.” — sylvia plath, fever 103,

a playlist with biblical & mythological inspiration. [playlist here] other playlists. i. gang of youths - achilles come down // you crave the applause, yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse. ii. florence + the machine - drumming song // louder than sirens, louder than bells. sweeter than heaven and harder than hell. iii. florence + the machine - are you hurting the one you love? // you say you've found heaven but you can't find god. iv. florence + the machine - what water gave me // and oh, poor atlas, the world's a beast of a burden you've been holding on a long time. v. florence + the machine - no light, no light // heaven help me i need to make it right. vi. florence + the machine - all this and heaven too // all this heaven never could describe such a feeling as i'm healing, words were never so useful. vii. florence + the machine - sky full of song // grab me by my ankles, i've been flying for too long. viii. julian moon - pomegranate seeds // you traded daffodils for a kingdom of ash and bone. ix. peach pit - alrighty aphrodite // little pearl, you think you're in gold but i can see the dirt in your lines. x. john mark mcmillan - mercury & lightning // i swear i've heard the echoes of a voice like a dream that you feel, but you don't remember. xi. hozier - talk // i'd be the immediate forgiveness in eurydice, imagine being loved by me.

xii. tamino - persephone // my part in yours may seem important now but with every spring it will seem so small. xiii. aurora - exist for love // when i take your hand like the world has never held a man. xiv. darren korb & ashley barrett - in the blood // home is not where you live but who cares when you’re gone. xv. the lumineers - ophelia // oh, ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love. xvi. sufjan stevens - mystery of love // shall i sleep within your bed, river of unhappiness. xvii. taylor swift - gold rush // what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? xviii. klergy & valerie broussard - start a war // the pen is mightier than the sword, then how did we get here, my god? xix. lana del rey - religion // when i'm down on my knees, you're how i pray. xx. kailee morgue - medusa // she says, mortal one you've been chosen, you're beautiful, but you're broken. xxi. sleeping at last - earth // there were floods, tidal waves over us, so we folded our hands and prayed. xxii. fleurie - love and war // lover, hunter, friend and enemy; you will always be every one of these. and more.

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seajudge · 4 years

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@seavillain.

daniel thinks he’d have a lot less trouble if he’d stop doing what maman tells him.

a lot less coinage, perhaps, and maybe not so nice of clothes, but maybe it’s a worthy trade if it means no more of her endless requests. if he’d had any wits about him, he’d have known to turn tail and run as soon as she invited him for dinner. then, he hadn’t expected this, and who could have? it’s been a week’s ride to the forward camp and he’s still not entirely come to terms with the concept of it all. not just open war, but the people who should be their enemies, this time working as their allies. the enemy of my enemy is my friend, adrienna had said in her sing song voice, and daniel didn’t have to like her tone to know she was right.

you don’t have to like my decisions, daniel. the feel of his mother’s gaze on his face, imparting the seriousness of the matter onto him with just her eyes. it’s a talent of hers (certainly not her most fearsome one). but you do have to obey them, my little love. you’ll pack your things and say goodbye to your sisters tonight. you and your party will set off early in the morning. comprenez-vous?

yes, he’d understood (there’s compromise with everyone, anyone, except maman; any attempts at bargaining with the queen put you in a worse state than where you started). and now he’s got mud on his boots, his ass is sore from riding for so long, and he’s left his favorite bracelet at home. by the time he gets back, alexie will have no doubt have claimed it for her own hoard. worse, there’s bigger troubles brewing at the border, and daniel’s arrival couldn’t have come sooner.

in fact, it should have come sooner. their defense is hardly worthy of the name, in his opinion; it’s only been four days and he already has no faith in the movement, especially not one that calls itself an ally to his country. their prince is a know-it-all who belongs on the front lines instead of underneath a crown, and even his errand boy is thirty seconds too slow for everything. daniel flicks a glance in the boy’s direction, cowered up in the corner of the tent, and swears he sees him tremble. he rolls his eyes until they ache inside his head. it’s like working with children.

‘ once again, ’ he says through gritted teeth, shoving the crumpled map across the table, ‘ it’s courtesy in my home to send a diplomat across lines to discuss peace terms. whether the envoy dies, and whether that upsets the men, is irrelevant. it is custom, and it is what my mother would want. ’

the magical words. daniel tilts his head with an air of innocence, lifts his eyebrows as sweetly as a cherub. ‘ and i am only an acting hand of her majesty. just as you act for your father’s wishes, no? would you have me openly defy her? ’

#seavillain #v: you think you're in gold (but i can see the dirt in your lines).

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