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unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men · 1 year

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Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You're the photographer hired to shoot the Sexiest Man Alive shoot You find out that it's Chris Evans, sparks fly.

Warning: Language, Sexual encounters, Oral (male receiving) Soft Dom Chris (if you squint) public sex, unprotected p in v (don't be silly cover your Willy) pet names,Talk of bodily fluids. Sorry if I forgot any

Word count: 4,189

The idea behind this was from a friend and they asked me to write this for them, and I figured I would see how it was received. Not beta'd or edited (other than Google docs) Not much of a writer but I enjoyed doing this.

Comments, reblogs and ❤️ appreciated (please be nice I'm so nervous to post this… )

You had received the letter a few days ago, holding it in your hand, you still had no idea what to think. Being a photographer sometimes had huge perks, and this happened to be the biggest one of probably your career. Scanning the letter again you made sure you had all the information you needed and gave yourself another pinch just to make sure.

Dear Miss Y/N: We are excited to inform you that you will be our main photographer for the People Magazine Sexiest Man Alive photoshoot. Please bring any equipment you may want, enclosed are your tickets and information regarding your hotel. We are very excited to have you working with People magazine and Mr. Chris Evans.

Re-reading the letter gave you another giddy boost of excitement, Chris Evans? You were beyond excited, you always hoped to be able to meet him and now you were getting ready to do a photoshoot with him for the Sexiest Man Alive. Smiling,pulling your hair up in a messy bun and started packing. Packing some nicer casual clothes for the shoot and a few pieces in case you had time to go out, now you worked on packing up your equipment.

After what seems like hours you stop and glances at the clock, sighing and rubbing your eyes you finish up and get ready for bed, sliding into your bed you close your eyes excitement coursing through your tired body. Quickly falling asleep you hear a loud beeping, groaning loudly you turn and shut off the alarm. "Yeah yeah I'm up jeez" Sliding out of the bed you dress in a sunflower patterned sundress and some dresser sandals, putting on a large straw hat you grab your things and call for an uber.

Heading to the airport you go and check in making small talk with the person at the desk, heading through the security checkpoint you figure out your gate number and wait patiently looking through your phone. Hearing the plane number being called, you smile at the flight attendant and board the plane, picking your luggage up, you store it in the overhead bin and take your seat. Yawning, you glances at your watch and soon falls asleep.

You wake a few hours later seeing you are close to touching down, stretching a bit you pull out your phone and double check for the hotel location. Grabbing your overhead bag you exit the plane and grabs your luggage, walking toward the cab area you notice a man holding a sign Y/N for People Magazine Smiling you walks over to the man "Hello I am Y/N" reaching into your purse you supply him with your ID and photographer credentials, watching as the man looks them over and nods "Right this way miss, I'm to take you to the hotel, then to the photoshoot"

Nodding you smile "Alright lead the way" Nodding he takes your larger bag and carries it to the limo, sliding in you marvel at the luxury of it. Watching the scenery you arrive at a large grand hotel "Wow this place is gorgeous" The driver chuckles and nods "It's one of the nicer hotels in the area" Pulling into the hotel the driver grabs your bag and helps you bring it to your room "I will be downstairs whenever you're ready miss" You nod and head into the room, opening the door you gasp and chuckle "Sometimes it's great to be pampered for work" Cleaning up you change into another sundress this one is blue with small white polka dots, putting your hair up in a ponytail.

Grabbing your gear you walk back down into the lobby and smile at the driver "I'm ready, thank you for waiting I tried to hurry" The man smiles "It's no problem Miss, you'll enjoy the area for the photoshoot, it's a gorgeous there" You smile "I can't wait maybe I can get some nature shots before the main shoot." Walking with the driver you rode to the area for the photoshoot, the driver was right, the area was gorgeous, lots of woods and outbuildings. Meeting with everyone you have a few hours before the actual shoot is scheduled. Setting up to take some nature shots you fail to notice someone walking up behind you.

Chris had seen you arrive but between his manager,makeup and set people there was no time for him to properly introduce himself. Seeing you had moved away from the main group he watched you set up taking some photos, he had seen your work which is why he picked you for this shoot. Moving closer to you he took you in, you were tall with curves in all the right places. Your long hair was pulled into a simple ponytail and you had some makeup on and it was enough to accentuate your natural beauty. Seeing you in the sundress you were wearing had thoughts and dirty ones running through his mind, but he needed to be professional.

Clearing his throat he watched you jump letting out a soft shriek "Uh sorry didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to properly introduce myself before things get crazy and people realize I'm gone" He watches you turn and the air is knocked out of his chest, you're even more beautiful than your picture. He watches you smile a blush along your cheeks "It's really an honor to meet you, thank you for letting me do this photoshoot. It's beautiful here" He nods "It really is, can you believe I was named Sexiest Man of the Year?" He watches you smirk and nod "Well I mean as a woman I totally see it" Laughing he finds himself blushing enjoying the flirty banter.

"I suppose I should get out of your hair and let you enjoy the scenery" He watches you laugh, smiling you look at him "Oh the scenery is lovely for sure, I look forward to seeing more of it" Chris finds himself blushing again and nodding "Maybe you will" Smiling he turns and walks back to his trailer his mind is fully focused on you. Getting ready for the first shot of the day they have him wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up, heading to the area for the shoot he sees you setting up.

Smiling he stands in the first position he looks over at you and smiles with a wink, watching you blush he chuckles and makes eye contact with you the whole time. He watches you blush and shift slightly, there is something about you it's almost magnetic and if he had to admit it was very much a turn on. Feeling himself harden he licks his lips and goes back to looking at you. Each shot he made sure to look at you with growing intensity and desire, and with every look he could feel his professional image slipping.

The next shot he was lounging in a patio chair, shirt partially opened. Smiling he caught you watching him with your mouth hanging open, laughing softly he rests his head in his hand and looks squarely at you. He smirks slightly as you drop something blushing and apologizing to the crew, deciding to behave for now he lets you shoot in relative peace occasionally throwing you a wink.

Soon the final photo is taken and he can tell by looking at you that you're flustered, smiling to the crew he shakes hands with people and talks to his manager and publicist before heading to his trailer to get cleaned up, his thoughts still on you.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in, that was an amazing shoot. The only issue was you were worked up from Chris making so much eye contact with you, each time it sent a shiver through your body and you were certain your panties were ruined.. Watching him leave you whimpered softly, already missing his eye contact, packing up your equipment and taking a couple shots of the sunset for your own personal collection. Putting on some music you hum along swaying gently as you pack up.

Setting up a tripod you move your camera to the night sky hoping to get a time lapse photo, putting your hair up you glance up at the sky and smile, stepping back you hit a solid mass letting out a shriek. "Hey hey sorry didn't mean to scare you again" Gasping you turn and use your hand to steady yourself, blushing you realizing your hand is firmly placed on his chest. You watch him smirk "You know I was hoping I wasn't misreading the signs you were giving me"

Shivering but not from the cold, glancing up at him you see his blue eyes are almost black and blown with lust, clearing your throat. "What are you talking about?" Chris moves closer to you now fully pressed into you, his mouth close to your ear "Come on sweetheart we both know we're attracted to each other, unless I'm wrong?" You shake your head trailing your hand along his chest earning a soft groan from him "You're not wrong"

You feel him smile and whisper into your ear "Let's go find some place quiet then shall we?" Nodding you find yourself following him into one of the barns that one of the shots were at. Pulling you into one of the stalls you feel his lips on yours as he kisses you hard, making a soft noise you return the kiss tugging on his hair. Pulling away from the kiss his lips swollen he smiles "You are gorgeous sweetheart" You blush hearing his Brooklyn accent.

"You're not so bad yourself handsome" Feeling bold you nuzzle his neck kissing gently, the urge to suck a mark on his warm skin almost makes you cry but you resist, He growls softly and nips at your ear "Clothes off now" Nodding you start shedding your clothes, easily sliding your dress off and quickly taking off your bra and panties, which Chris quickly puts into his pocket. Looking at you he latches onto your nipple sucking hard, you find yourself arching into him.

Whimpering you glance at him "Not fair need to see you too" He chuckles at that and releases your nipple to remove his shirt running your fingers over his tattoos making him shiver "You keep that up and I'll forget why I came here" You laugh softly and let out a squeal and your picked up and places on a blanket? Looking at Chris you see him blushing and he slowly removes his pants and boxers "I uh might have planned this, sorta" Smiling you pull him in for a kiss "I see trying to seduce me Mr.Evans?"

Moaning softly he kisses you hard, his hand snaking down and finding you soaked, his fingers lightly rubbing your clit "Christ sweetheart all for me?" You nod and whimper as you feel him gently stroking you "Please!" Smirking he takes your free hand and guides it to his hard member, needing no prompt you start stroking him "Fuck sweetheart knew you would be trouble, but the best kind" Blushing you smile "Thank you" Smiling he strokes your cheek "What do you want sweetheart?"

Looking up at him shyly you murmur "I want to suck you off and then I want you to pound me" Blushing you feel him harden even more pre cum dribbling down your hand "Fuck sweetheart, anything you want!" Helping you up he kisses you and places another blanket at your knees, you kneel and slowly start to take him into your mouth, you hear him groan loudly you start sucking on his tip feeling him twitch and jump. Smirking slightly you take more of him in your mouth, moaning happily as you feel him fill your mouth, you feel his hands gathering up your hair into a loose ponytail. Gently stroking your cheek you hear him praising you "Look atcha taking me so well, mouth was made for me"

You feel yourself getting wetter from the praise, your hips rut into the blanket needing some friction. Hearing him chuckle you look up at him as you start to bob your head faster using your tongue to swirl around his tip "So fucking pretty aren't ya sweethart, gonna let me fuck that pretty face?" You blush and nod, his dirty talking turning you on even more, who knew that Chris Evans had such a dirty mouth but god if it wasn't hot combined with his Brooklyn accent. You were going to rename him the panty destroyer in the future. "Tap my leg twice if you want me to stop sweetheart ok ''You nod your head and hollow your cheeks and throw him a wink.

Chris smiles and starts thrusting hard into your throat groaning at the feeling of your mouth around his thick cock, you let out a low needy moan as he starts thrusting harder. Drool coats the base of his cock, gagging slightly you start moving up and down his shaft as he thrusts deeper. "Fucking hell sweetheart going to suck me dry, such a good girl" You moan and feel his cock twitch and jerk in your mouth, latching your mouth tightly around him he thrusts deep stilling "I'm cumming!" You feel the sudden swell and the explosion of his spend coats your mouth and you greedily swallow everything, cleaning his tip you slowly release him with a soft pop. Licking the corner of your mouth you sigh dreamily "Taste so good"

Watching you and hearing your now slightly raspy voice Chris helps you up before kissing you hard, tasting himself in the kiss. Groaning into your mouth he growls into your ear "Gotta be inside of you sweetheart, please" You nod and grab his hand you bring him over to a small area with a wooden railing, grabbing onto the railing you wiggle your ass "I think someone was supposed to pound me, unless you would rather not I can easily get dressed…" Feeling a slap to your ass you clench around nothing letting out a moan "If it were up to me you would be naked all the time sweetheart"

Feeling him behind you, the thick bulbous head of his cock rubbing along your folds, moaning loudly you wiggle into him "Please Chris! Need to be filled with you" Hearing him chuckle he slams into you hard making you scream, his hands grip your hips tightly almost bruisingly as he begins to slam in and out of your wet eager core. Loud wet noises fill the barn along with your moans and whimpers, smirking he groans as your wet heat pulls him in with every thrust "Perfect for me, feelin like heaven, gripping me so tightly"

Moaning loudly you move your hand down to your clit rubbing it hard, arching into him "Harder! Please, I need it!" Grunting you feel his hand wrap around your throat squeezing tightly but not enough to hurt, his eyes watch you. Between you rubbing your clit, breasts bouncing or the way you keep pulling him deeper and deeper into your core, he feels close already. "Sweetheart I'm close, wanna have you fall apart with me, please" Nodding you rub your clit faster and feel yourself getting closer.

Letting out a loud moan he feels you clench around him and he chuckles softly as he paints your walls, moaning loudly your hands gripping the wood tightly as your orgasm hits hard. Spots fill your vision, your legs begin to tremble and your toes curl. Feeling him throb and twitch has to be one of the hottest things ever, tears roll down your face. Your mouth hangs open as you feel another orgasm approaching Another one? Couldn't be? Could it?! "I can feel you fluttering around me sweetheart this needy pussy wants to be filled is that it?" Moaning loudly "Please fill me to the brim, wanna be dripping your cum for days!"

You let out a sob and feel yourself cumming again harder than the last time, clenching around him like a vice your body trembles and your vision goes dark and you pass out, breathing heavy. Feeling you clamp down on him triggers his orgasm and he slams into you hard, keeping you pressed into his chest as he fills you to the brim. You feel boneless, weightless and suddenly very tired. Hearing a chuckle you feel hands gently rubbing your ass "You good sweetheart?" You smile and nod slightly "I'm amazing"

Pulling you gently upright and resting you into his chest his hands cup your breasts kneading them gently , he moves with you still buried deep inside of you and lays down on the blanket. Grabbing some more he wraps them around you and him, before pulling you close "Go on sweetheart get some sleep I'll make sure nobody gets to see you like this but me ok?" You nod feeling your eyes close "Thank you….so amazing" Turning you slightly he watches you slowly drift to sleep. "Filled you so full didn't I sweetheart? And you took me so well"

Smoothing some hair from your face he spends the time just watching you, enjoying the way your face crinkles as you sleep, and the way you grip onto not only him but his cock, it almost makes him want to wake you to take you again. He could discuss that once you were awake, the more he looked at you the less he wanted to let you go. He knew that sounded silly considering he had just met you but he felt a connection and not because his dick was deep inside of you, it was more than that almost if you were soul mates.

Watching you sleep for a few hours Chris smiled and lightly brushed some hair out of your face and leaned in close whispering "Sweetheart come on you gotta get up, let's go sleep in my trailer ok?" You grumble slightly and press into him, chuckling he smiles "Fine sweetheart let me get us dressed and I'll take you back to my trailer" Slowly pulling out of you he instantly misses your warmth, dressing you he dresses himself and makes sure everything is back to normal before picking you up and carrying you to his trailer.

Opening the door he lays you on his bed and covers you and places a kiss on your forehead before walking back out to grab all your equipment and bringing it back to his trailer. Walking in he moves to the bed and chuckles seeing you sprawled out he strips down and nudges you gently "Sweetheart" You grumble but murmur softly "Chris?" He laughs at how your voice sounds half asleep yet "Can I take off your clothes? So your more comfortable" You nod and he looks at you "Use your words sweetheart" You groan "You may Chris"

He watches you drift back to sleep before carefully stripping you down, pulling you close, he sets an alarm and falls back into a deep sleep, his arms wrapped around you protectively. Hearing a noise you groan and press into something warm, hearing a chuckle you tense and slowly open your eyes. Glancing next to you, your eyes widen as you see Chris Evans holding you tightly his face nuzzling your neck "Morning sweetheart" You shiver hearing his still asleep voice"

"Morning" Snuggling close to him you mumble softly "How long was I asleep?" You feel hands stroking along your back "About 5 hours give or take, I brought you back here with your equipment so you weren't in a barn wanted you to be comfortable" Smiling you move up and kiss his chin, stretching you wince slightly and smile "Well looks like I do not need go to the gym today, got my workout last night" Chris blushes slightly and chuckles "Sorry about that can I do anything to help sweetheart?"

Smiling you shake your head "I'm teasing and no I enjoy the soreness honestly it's a wonderful reminder" Steve smiles "Are you going to the after party later today?" You yawn and nod "Oh of course will you be there Mr. Evans?" Smiling he nods "I am, want to go as my date?" You cough slightly and look at him "You really want to take me?" He nods "Of course I do, did you think this was a one time thing? Oh no sweetheart I couldn't let you go even if I had to"

Blushing you smile "I don't know if I own anything that fancy but I would love to go with you" Chris laughs "We can always get you something, now do you want to sleep a little longer or could you eat?" Pressing your head to his chest you yawn "More sleep please" Nodding "Sleep it is sweetheart" Watching you fall back to sleep Chris reaches over and grabs his phone and takes a photo of you sleeping on his chest, making sure your face is hidden he posts the photo to his twitter account. Putting his phone back he presses close to you and falls asleep.

Waking later in the day you yawn and stretch, sitting up you smile and dress. Smelling coffee you let out a pleased sigh and walk into the kitchen/living area seeing a cup of coffee still hot on the counter with a note, yawning again you walk over and read the note Y/N I managed to wake up before you and leave (didn't really want too) and got any paparazzi and such away from the area I left my number and where I'm staying for the after party, please call me. Chris Smiling, you dial the number and he picks up on the first ring "Sweetheart?" You laugh "Unless you had another woman you wanted to call you, it's me"

He chuckles and you're sure he's blushing "No no you're it sweetheart, so you'll be my date tonight?" You pause teasing him "Well…..yes I will, want to pick me up at 7pm?" You hear the happiness in his voice "I would love too sweetheart" You send him your address and a silly photo "Ok well I better get my outfit planned, gotta look my best around Captain America himself" He laughs and is suddenly serious "I'm really glad you'll be coming tonight, you know the paparazzi will be asking all sorts of questions about us" You chuckle "Good I hope they do, see you soon Chris"

He hears you hand up and smiles at his phone, spending the rest of the day getting things in order and getting ready for the evening. Around 6 he starts to head to your place wanting to arrive a bit early, finding your building easily he knocks on the door, suddenly the door is opened and you're standing in a simple towel, hair still wet "Chris? You're early I just got out of the shower" He eyes you and you feel his hot gaze looking you over he looks at you for permission before entering your house. You smile and nod and he pulls you by the towel and kisses you.

"Well hello to you too" He blushes and smiles "Sorry couldn't help it sweetheart" You smile and chuckle softly "Well make yourself comfortable while I go and finish up" He nods watching you leave , sitting on your couch he looks around and smiles enjoying the cozy feelings from your place. Seeing numerous photos on the wall he smiles, soon the door opens again and you walk out. He stares at you, his eyes roaming over your body. Standing in a navy blue almost skin tight dress your hair is in a sexy updo, your makeup is more on the natural end with some fancy eyeliner.

He watches you walk over to him and chuckle "Did I break you?" He blushes and stands kissing your hand "Your gorgeous sweetheart, come on lets knock some socks off of people '' You laugh and nod taking his arm and walking to his car, pulling up to the after party event the car is surrounded by paparazzi and media outlets. Feeling hundreds of pictures being taken you feel Chris squeeze your hand and kiss your cheek making everyone go wild. You smile and realize how different your life will be now and it's all thanks to one chance encounter.

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x fluff #chris evans x smut

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garnetea · 10 months

Text

elysian rain

who itachi uchiha x black! male y/n. length 3.7k words. byr mature/smut!, black male! reader, he/they pronouns, gay relationship obvi, fluff and smut, rainy date, pottery ouu, body kisses, some y/n praise, implied love making, and third person.

leman's letter! this shit was fun to write, it's just mad oldddd. this's a re-post and i’m still proud of it *wipes tears*; male reader representation!!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★

The weather was rudely unpredictable, choosing this lovely day to perform an obnoxious tantrum against Y/n and Itachi’s wide window panes. The sky was a clear shade of blue just this morning, the only feature to align with its welcoming color being the white smears of clouds and specs of flocking birds towards north. Though now those clouds were much less white than grey, and the once clear blue sky was nothing but a murky dark shade to reciprocate the dreary weather. So much for that cute picnic date the couple had planned. It was undoubtedly a dispiriting fact that they were forcibly stuck in this fuck ass apartment; disclosed from the damp air and muddy puddles encroaching the rest of the city.

“Mtch, Itachi?” Y/n called, rolling over on the couch with aggravation as he stretched. He faced his boyfriend, Itachi, from across the living room with a sigh of boredom. The dark haired man glanced up at him from where he was sitting, strings of hair escaping his respective ponytail and tickling the divine frame of his feminine features. In that peaceful spot by the window with his cozy rocking chair, a new novel he recently picked up laying idly on his covered lap.

“What is it, Y/n?” Itachi’s voice was similar to a mumble, being so far away, but Y/n could hear the usual gentle tone of his deep voice. His eyes were as attentive as always, analyzing Y/n’s annoyed expression and dramatic position laid out on the couch. From the way his limbs flopped over the arm and back of the furniture, it was clear that the cancellation of today’s romantic plans was wearing him down. He couldn’t even fish out the energy to shift across the coffee table and grab the remote. Instead, he laid there with nothing to stimulate him but the clashing of rain against the glass and the low rumbling of the dryer in the distant laundry room.

“What type of date is this, bro?” Y/n complained, dull disinterest teeming from his plain tone. It was painfully obvious that on such a dreary day there wasn’t much the couple could do, but damn was this nigga bored beyond recognition. He pondered on what happened to their neatly packed basket and folded polka dot blanket. The strawberries sprinkled in sugar and packed away in the fridge, and the expensive cheesecake he went to the trouble of buying. Was it all for nothing? No, they could reschedule for another day, without a doubt- but Y/n was still a bit vexed about the situation. “Man, at this point I’m boutta k-,”

“Y/n.” With a glare slimly present, he spoke- but Itachi did more than simply call out his lover’s name. As a follow up, he sighed and stood from his seat, stretching his arms out and placing his book neatly on the coffee table. The glittery feeling of responsibility to lighten your bitter mood seemed to have a hold on his actions. “I told you to stop kidding like that."

The knitted blanket once draped over his lap was in a bundled heap at his feet, and he held a relaxed demeanor as he stepped over it’s mountain-like appearance. Itachi then walked past the living room to the narrow hallway without another word, disappearing into the other side of the lavishly sized apartment. Though Y/n was too uninterested to get up and follow his boyfriends figure as he usually did, finding it unfavorable to act like a lost puppy on such an irritating day. All he wanted was to pamper Itachi for once, the man was always being the gentleman of the relationship. For once, Y/n wanted to be the one to hold open the door, or to make his plate for him. Of all days for a downpour to devour this glistening city of buildings and street lights, it just had to be today.

A few minutes later, Itachi’s presence had returned to Y/n’s active acknowledgment. His thin, well built figure had re-entered the room with an armful of familiar looking supplies. If Y/n couldn’t see the small Pottery wheel under Itachi’s arm, they would’ve still known what his boyfriend was planning to entertain him with. Simply because the nostalgic smell of clay was now prominently befalling against the once cream vanilla scented living room.

Rather than let Y/n ask any questions, Itachi proceeded to make his way back down the hall, returning a few more times with more pottery supplies. Y/n sat up on the couch, finding amusement in watching everything be prepared so neatly. The sheet beneath the table to prevent any messes, the needles and wooden modeling tools, they were all aligned in their respective places on the coffee table.

It wasn’t until everything was in order that Itachi finally decided to speak again, standing before Y/n with his thin hand stretched out to greet his lover. A hand that, of course, Y/n found no resistance in accepting; idiotic giggles escaping his tittering smile as he moved to the spot on the floor. "Today we can do pottery.” Itachi decided calmly, finding a comfortable seat beside you on the floor. “Then, tomorrow we can pick flowers to fill our vases. Alright?”

To say Y/n was congested with a sense of contentment and benevolent affection was a bit more than an understatement, though he did his best to remain composed. Other than the gratified smile protruding across his brown lips, they appeared to be primarily unfazed by their boyfriends kind actions. “That sounds nice, Itachi.” He agreed softly through their upturned lips, placing a hand over Itachi’s on the floor and leaning upwards with an obvious intent. Y/n pressed a feebly gentle kiss to Itachi’s cheek to express his appreciation, resisting the urge to tackle the man and instead shower him in butterfly kisses. Oh what an urge that was, but they did well to hold their composure as he added a genuine, “Thank you.” before leaning back into his respective spot.

Itachi closed his eyes in sweet acceptance, letting out a soft “Hm..” as he held no resistance against the gentle smile greeting his lonesome lips. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped his boyfriend would take this opportunity to douse every inch of his face with peppered kisses, as he usually would. He expected the orange sulfur and monarchs in the center of his slim stomach to expand and throw a fit, azalea and daffodil’s blossoming in his chest as they’d done when the men first met. In fact, he might’ve even been looking forward to it. But of course with little hesitation, he deemed this as being a bit needy, pushing his subconscious desires elsewhere. Itachi instead directed his attention to the navy blue pottery wheel in front of him, deciding it was paramount to not keep his beloved waiting.

Y/n watched in wait of some form of directions as Itachi took a grey piece of clay from the supplies, handing a palm sized chunk to Y/n and began forming his own into the necessary shape. Not knowing much about pottery himself, Y/n cleared his throat awkwardly and followed their boyfriends actions- taking it as a nonverbal instruction. Once both pieces of clay were in a gumdrop shape and the couple’s hands were besmeared with grey, Itachi plopped his on the wheel and began patting it down in order for it to stick to the center board. A necessary first step it seemed to be since he was sure to really hit the poor clay before he began modeling it into what would soon be a pot.

“Once I’m finished with mine, we can do yours.” He assured, taking notice of Y/n glancing at him and the wheel with clear uncertainty. Between his own lump of clay, Itachi’s, and the wheel, there was an ambivalent question mark stapled across his expression, and it didn’t take a genius to notice- although Itachi sure was one. Therefore, Itachi calmly reassured him with, “It won’t take long."

Though Y/n didn’t swallow this response as he intended him to. "No, no! You’re good, I just don’t want mine to dry before I start.” Y/n admitted genuinely. He figured if he didn’t make the block into something soon, it would dry and be harder to use- not to mention it would be wasteful. Regardless of his theories, he had no reason to fear. Itachi was experienced, this being his hobby and all, and knew well that it wouldn’t harden as long as some water was kept in contact. Therefore, he sped up the pottery wheel and dipped his hand in the nearby bucket of water before beginning the messy process of his masterpiece.

“If you keep your hands wet as you hold it, it won’t dry.” Itachi informed, holding his focus on the spiraling grey piece as it pulled its length up similarly to the extensive frame of a building. Y/n couldn’t even form a response as his attention found more interest in watching the satisfying build up of the smooth material, coating Itachi’s slender fingers with every change of shape. It transformed from a sphere to a tower, then it was flattened midway and given a hole in its center. It resembled an odd cup, or a stubby volcano, but somehow Y/n still found it more impressive than he let his unfazed facial expression let on.

Itachi found tranquility in his pottery, it could be referred to as something like his desired, irenic haven. Which would have to be why he found himself paying no mind to the compliments Y/n couldn’t help but adorn him in. It wasn’t until he heard the sweet adjective “pretty” that he tuned in, hoping he hadn’t missed anything vitally blush inducing while he was drowning in those imaginative thoughts of ceramics and porcelain.

“I mean, you look pretty too, but I’m talkin’ about the clay right now.” Y/n corrected himself, leaning in closer to get a better look at the details enveloping itachi’s fingers. The thick, viscid pieces of clay sticking and smearing across his fingers as he dug the two pointers into the middle of the block; spreading the spinning walls apart to make a wide opening as you’d see in a pot. Then, with one of the nearby sponges he’d brought out, Itachi began smoothing down the inside of the unfinished creation as well as the outside, pressing a bit harder on the petal so the wheel would spin at a temporarily accelerated pace. It was truly a satisfying process that made Y/n consider taking more interest in his boyfriends artistic hobby- though it was messy. This would have to be an activity solely for when his nails were bare and ready to be temporarily filthy, because goodness was it clinging to Itachi’s under nail like a star fish on glass.

Not long after he smoothed the sides and evened out the length, Itachi slowed the wheel down to an immediate halt. “Is.. Oh, that’s it?” Y/n asked with fascination, quickly tugging himself away from the dedicated entrance he found himself in.

Itachi told him that that indeed was it, it wasn’t too difficult a process; it simply takes practice to make a good piece. So with that, he quickly cleaned off the wheel with the sponge and peeked over at Y/n, awaiting some form of response. Maybe a “Ight, so it’s my turn now”, like he’d usually say, brimming with self confidence and natural optimism. Alas, there was nothing of the sort to greet Itachi’s sanguine expression, Y/n was as quiet as a mouse… It was apparent that his attention was held entirely too well during the process. So much that he didn’t hear the minor instructions Itachi had mumbled to him as he fixed the undeveloped pot. Hence the confusion on the man’s face as Itachi slid the pottery wheel towards him, expecting him to slap on his clay and get started.

“Itachi, you know I don’t know much about pottery…” Y/n began, pursing his lips and glancing between the wheel and their boyfriend’s deadpanned expression. Itachi didn’t even bother forming a response, he refused to repeat himself simply because Y/n wasn’t as attentive as he should’ve been. When the awkward silence became entirely too much to bare, Y/n simply said “fuck it” and slapped the clay on the center of the wheel. “Now don’t be mad if mine looks better than yours, shit just comes naturally."

Such confidence was almost comedic, the man clearly didn’t have a thorough understanding of what he was doing. Slightly pushing on the petal before lifting back off when the quick acceleration caught him off guard. Had they forgotten how they attentively observed Itachi follow each step within the past six minutes? Surely that must’ve been the case, because by now Itachi was sighing as a way to cope with the horridly taunting chuckle threatening to befall his pretty lips.

Without a word to announce his next course of action, Itachi adjusted from his respective seat at Y/n’s left; instead, moving to the back of the man’s struggling figure. "Come on, Y/n. Were you not watching?” Itachi inquired calmly and knowingly against Y/n’s neck, leaning his chest against his back and innocently pressing his covered crotch to his boyfriends ass. Of course, this was genuine innocence, he was only placing his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s calves in order to help him make this pot. He was in no way trying to provoke anything sexual. If anything, he was promoting a moment of intimate romance in replacement of today’s scheduled picnic, the weather being so intrusive and all. Though regardless of his motives, the position was clearly a bit… less than decent, or at least less than “innocent”. And Y/n wasn’t a dense dumbass, he knew quite well what this looked like- or rather what this felt like.

He managed to clear his throat and re-dip his hands in the bucket of water along with Itachi, swearing that he was paying attention. He was just a bit forgetful that was all. The exact details seemed to slip his mind, replacing his vital memories with the pale details of Itachi’s clay covered finger tips and palms. Though he’d be too awkward and embarrassed to openly confess this to Itachi, the reason as to why he knew not a thing about how to start this shit. Therefore, he decided to simply move on and let Itachi show him the ropes.

It was a gentle, warm feeling- almost ticklish, and surely sensually memorable, as Itachi maneuvered his arms to comfortably guide Y/n’s fingers around the thick clay. Both hands drenched in water, the droplets landing on the surface below as it began to accelerate and rotate in place. The low whirl it vibrating through the air wasn’t as relevant or noticeable as a fly when Y/n had this fluttering feeling contorting through his abdomen. Delicate panzica and rare begonia building up in the pit of his stomach before blossoming politely in his amiable chest. Itachi’s fingers were soft and slender as they linked with Y/n’s, and both of them- or more Y/n than Itachi- were doing their utmost best to remain composed regardless of the warmly heart rate surging contact. The constant shifting in place, Y/n squeezing his thighs together with an awkward sense of sexual anticipation and intimacy draping itself naturally around his fuzzed head space.

“Am I- Uh, we doin’ it right?” Y/n inquired, mentally cussing at himself for stumbling so doltishly over his simple question. He was just too focused on the gliding of Itachi’s fingers between his, so much that he struggled to piece together audibly literate words. The delicate interlacing of their skin with the wet clay, only interrupting the messy labyrinth to dip their hands in more room temp water. It was impossibly euphoric and held no effort in encasing Y/n’s rib cage with silky cirrus and suffocating cumulus.

Itachi was extremely talented, it was obvious that he knew what he was doing, especially when it came to art. Nevertheless, he responded to his boyfriends query, simply because it was considered rude not to. Not to mention that he too was beginning to sense the desperate shared heat for sexual pleasure, but was striving with every morally correct thought to deny such impulses. Today was meant to be purely peaceful and virtuously winsome; containing nothing as inappropriate as what his intricate subconscious was concocting.

“Yes, you’re doing just fine, Y/n. Shape it with my hands, like this.” Itachi replied in what felt like a butterfly’s hushed tone. His lips unintentionally tickled Y/n’s shoulder as he spoke, the bare brown skin slipping desperately from the white tee all on its own. Tempting and taunting Itachi like a pretty Rosary Pea, one he knew he shouldn’t touch for it was doused in sweet beguiling poison. The bottom line of reality is that no man is perfect, and this naturally charming person sitting before Itachi was indeed, if nothing else, his. Who was he to deny himself such gestures for someone he desperately adored and, in fact, was his? Thus, when he suddenly lost interest in maintaining pressure on the acceleration pedal, and when he finally grew bored of this growing tension between the two warm bodies, no one could blame him for how his hands ventured bluntly up Y/n’s shirt. The smears of cold clay on the other male’s torso and chest surprising them, a soft gasp escaping their lips brimming with staggering pleasure and satisfaction.

Itachi discarded all of his care and consideration for his boyfriend’s clean tee shirt. He found no time to go wash his hands first, surely Y/n would understand that he held more value than a simple tee shirt. That he, unlike the cotton material, held needs and wants and elysian desires. Especially since this was out of complete adoration and affection for his beloved boyfriend, the one he loved with every piece of him.

Without a word, Itachi gently placed his lips onto Y/n’s naturally warm shoulder, fluttering sensitive kisses across the soft brown skin before him. His eyelashes tickling just at their blade, sending teasing butterflies through their chest and stomach, the parts of him that had already blossomed with fondness for Itachi’s sudden change in action.

“Itachi?.. You alright?” He asked, in a silky tone of honey dewed benevolence. He was informed that Itachi was more than alright from the way he exhaled through his nose in response, light breaths warming Y/n’s goosebump traced skin. Though still, he expected a response even as Itachi found it imperative to gently dig his finger tips into the skin of Y/n’s abdomen; gliding the slender digits across the skin with a scintilla of tranquility gifted by clouds. His kisses only became more sensual and- dare one be honest- messy as Y/n moved their neck to the side in amusement. Both sets of eye lids flutter in acceptance to these emotions, impure and all, as the poisonous flowers of Rosary Pea and Oleander dominate their united and scandalously intimate actions.

“I don’t mean to act so intrusively..” Itachi noted in an apologetic voice, though he still failed to reduce the actions of his clay drenched fingers across Y/n’s skin. The impulsive suggestions his head- or maybe his crotch, were tempting him to continue couldn’t be explained well with words. Which gives reason to why he didn’t bother, he simply did; and Y/n found no urge to stop befalling his current state. His only responses were the gasps of breath he fell into, and agape lips he licked between those inhales and exhales.

Two warm bodies, delicate fingers tracing Y/n’s skin with care, Itachi’s lips suctioning lightly despite being heavily drenched with addictive inhales and delicate saliva. Before Y/n knew it, he was spewing noises he didn’t know could escape his chest so facilely. Noises that even Itachi, as attentive and intuitive as he was, didn’t expect to greet him so tactlessly. Mere milliseconds later, those same muffled sounds were persuading Y/n’s hands to find Itachi’s, reenacting the intertwining of their messy fingers as they’d recently connected between the forgotten lump of clay. Without shame or caution, he guides Itachi’s palm further past his torso. Pressing it towards the growing distraction in his pajama pants, which clung to his milk chocolate brown hips with little to no responsibility; exposing his v line more with every pitiful air hump he commits.

Y/n mumbles in an affable, sultry tone beyond the suppressed moans and exhales of his built up arousal. “Whatever’s gotten into you today..” Before moving his unoccupied hand to Itachi’s sweatpant covered thigh, holding a firm grip on it as he hears his lover’s lips unclasp from his abused and drenched shoulder. Neither of them release his hands, nor their positions, as Y/n skews his line of vision to Itachi’s expression; light spurs of rose petal pink prickling and glistening across the man’s light cheeks and the tip of his nose. Y/n dares to speak while analyzing, in awe, such a gloriously handsome- no, divine front, and his lips curl into what one would call a grin as he leans in impossibly closer. “Don’t stop.”

And at that moment, as the never ending downpour imprisoning the glistening city in murky puddles finally came to a close, Y/n and Itachi found themselves in an artistically divine portrait of doves and pearly whites. Clinging to one another desperately as they passionately shared their pure adoration and seraphic, intimate reverence for one another. Smears of clay and forgotten boredom confining the two men to sloppy kisses and unfeigned compliments. A sweet “Handsome” and an irrepressible “I love you” lugging the acts of intimacy to a solar level of buoyant roses and vanilla extract. Even Aphrodite herself found it imperative to simper and fan herself, for these two were so terribly enveloped in one another’s features of perfection, it was adorably laughable. It seems one could presume that sometimes the convivial things in life aren’t derived from the long-winded, tedious plans we construct. Maybe it’s stupidly less arduous to find pleasure in creating a pot- preferably with Itachi Uchiha on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

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littlebatsimagines · 1 year

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Welcome To The Asylum

Hey Guys! Welcome to my page my name is Bats and I'll be you're writer! I hope you enjoy your stay here at my little HA HA-cienda! Please do feel free to request however I do try to keep my writings Arkham/Batman based however you my find a surprise every now and again! I really do hope you enjoy!

With much love!

-Bats

Reader abbreviation key:

(Y/n)= Your name

(E/c)=Eye color

(H/c)=Hair color

(F/c)=Favorite Color

I Thought You Were Dead (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

By Your Side (Arkham Asylum! Bruce Wayne x Reader)

I Promise (Dick Grayson x Reader)

I Deal With You (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Hacker (Dick Grayson x OC)

I Can't Believe You Talked Me Into This! (Dick Grayson x Reader)

HOW COULD YOU?! (Injustice! Dick Grayson x Reader)

Run With Me (Jason Todd x Reader)

Rainbow After the Storm (Jason Todd x Reader)

An Odd Feeling (Arkham Knight x Reader) - (1) (2) (3) (4)

Just Playing the Game (Jason Todd x Reader)

I Can't Do This Without You (Jason Todd/Robin x Reader)

The Knight is Born (Arkham Knight x Inmate! Reader) - (1) (2)

Christmas Snuggles (Jason Todd x Reader)

A Friend in Arkham (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)- (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Not That Scary! (Tim Drake x Reader)

Doctor's Orders (Arkham! Tim Drake x Reader)

Villain Stuff

Why Do You Stay? (Arkham! Scarecrow x Reader)

Killer Croc x Reader

One Scary Assistant (Scarecrow x Reader)

A Hidden Friend. (Arkham Origins! Bane x Reader)

Gotham stuff

The Orphan and The Clown - (1) (2)

Random DC/Holiday Stuff

Don't You Dare! (Jerome Valeska x Reader) Christmas!

So Much For Boring... (Negative Man x Male! Reader)

(Polka Dot Man x Reader)

I'm a Superhero! (Polka Dot Man x Reader)

(Abner Krill x Reader)

Christmas Snuggles (Jason Todd x Reader) Christmas!

#batman arkham #batman x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #scarecrow x reader #killer croc x reader #polka dot man x reader #negative man x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman arkham x reader

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wolkoshka · 1 year

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Paranormal

summary: you meet Ghost for the second time at Soap’s birthday/costume party and this time, you promise to get a taste of the man behind the mask. Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 1/2

word count: 5k+

London was drenched, blinding flashes forking out amidst midnight clouds rolling in a hailing storm.

Or it was pishin' doon oot there, as your childhood best friend would call it.

His birthday, along with the rain, had just stormed in, and since he was being deployed on another mission tomorrow, he wanted to party as soon as the clock struck midnight.

Excitement buzzed in your veins, and not because of the party - well, partially - but because of a certain someone you were impatient to meet again.

On cue, lightning flashed as a strong kick to the bar's door burst it open - and in strut you, Ghostbuster uniform on full display. Except, this one's slutty. And there's only one ghost that needed catching tonight.

All commotion stopped to regard you.

Tossing the umbrella into a rack, you kicked the door shut with your heel.

With shorts hugging the plump of your ass, a form-fitting jacket unzipping down the front to reveal your salacious cleavage, and waist and thigh straps securing the proton pack to your back coupled with the knee-high boots four inches tall, you knew you were a sight to behold.

The bar was swarming with familiar faces of both military and mutual friends.

You dramatically posed, the gun of the proton pack activated. “Heard there was something strange in your neighborhood.”

Low whistles and compliments rebounded. “There’s something strange happening in my pants right now!” one male enthusiastically called from the back.

“Haud yer weesht,” a familiar voice reprimanded, soon followed by an effective smack.

From a sea of shark fins, faerie wings, and numerous superhero costumes, a Mohawk head popped out. Your expression abruptly brightened and you twirled performatively as Johnny shouldered through the bodies and took you in a big, tight hug.

The heat of his body singed into your chilled one, enveloping you.

“Ay ye bastard. Ye actually made it.”

Embracing him equally as tightly, you smothered him with kisses on the face. You hadn’t seen him for three months now. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny-bo-bonnie. Mwah, mwah, mwah. That one’s from mum.”

A hearty laugh. “Don’t tell me - she baked me something real delicious and you ate it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He put you down, and you stepped back to take in his outfit: a bathrobe, slippers, and polka dotted blue swim trunks. His chest was bare and suave sunglasses perched on his head.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

He splayed his arms wide open, a shit-eating grin revealing straight, white teeth. “A man on a well-earned vacation.”

You playfully slapped him on the chest. “Good one.” From your proton pack, you withdrew a box. A present. “Here. Gotchu something.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another soap.”

“Why? Were you showered with them tonight?” A snort-laugh. “Get it? Shower? Soap?”

“Harr, harr, harr.” He thumbed over his shoulder at a shrine of soaps forming a pyramid on a table. “Suddenly, everyone’s so bloody hilarious tonight.”

You made a noise of intrigue. “Do they smell nice?”

“Don’t care. What did you get me?” He palmed the box, opening it.

“I’m taking some if they do.”

“Go crazy, lass.” A soft gasp. Then, “O feckin’ feck me.”

“I know, I know. I know you too well. It’s my curse,” you sighed, but smiled when he took out the expensive bottle of GlenDronach, his favorite scotch.

“Happy birthday, sucker.”

He looped an arm around your neck, hugging you close and kissing you on the temple. “And that’s why you’re my favorite best friend.”

"Other best friends, huh? Take that back or I’ll Bath and Body Works your arse next time I see you.”

“Roger that.”

Arm still corded around your shoulders, he turned your bodies to the bar - and there he was.

Ghost.

Simon Riley, you learned his name was.

The muse that lingered in every afterthought, in the darkness of the night, while sleep cooed you into a moment of silence your heart beat fast and loud enough to fight off - just to win more time thinking of the man who did not even care for your existence.

A soft gasp parted your lips.

His back was to you, broad and tall, as he conversed with Price, head tilting ever so often in remark.

He sported a dark brown leather jacket over a black hoodie and equally as dark cargo pants. His combat boots hugged up his strong calves, his legs parted over the bar stool he perched on, meaty thighs barely fitting.

He wasn't in costume. You guessed he dressed as a ghost mirroring a civilian.

Despite the chaos circulating him, his poise was calm and collected, but not unaware, the stiffness in his shoulders stating as much.

A killer of killers, apex predator of the fittest, his prowess was unmatched in the battlefield, and to witness a man of his caliber exist in environment simple and mundane had a startling effect.

Menacing, you thought, a bite to your lower lip.

"See somethin' you like?" Soap humorously chuckled.

You'd met Ghost three months prior, while Task Force 141 was deployed on a private mission to locate Shepherd's current hideout, and as a private contractor who'd built many commercial, private, and government facilities - wherever the clients needed them built - you'd come across one personally requested by Shepherd himself.

It was a long time ago, but your memory had not failed you.

By the shores of Chile, was a property laid out by you, the blueprint of it handed off to Soap to investigate.

Screw client confidentiality when your best friend's life was put in danger by a betraying bastard.

It was then, as you'd climbed into the SUV to hand the blueprint, you'd made out a humongous shape in your peripheral and screamed out in reaction.

It hadn't helped when it was a skull staring right into your very soul.

"Ah, a common reaction to Ghost," Soap had commented. "Lt, meet my best friend," he said your name, and to you, "meet Lt. Ghost. Simon."

Simon.

You'd wiggled your fingers a hello at him. "What a name. Pleased to meet you."

He hadn't responded, had merely stared before looking out the window.

Right then and there, he was an enigma you couldn't deny. You'd decided to make him look your way however and whichever way you could.

"Johnny, be done with it," he'd grated out when you and Soap got lost in the gossip, the husk and deep gravel of his voice eliciting a full-on body shiver from you.

You'd stolen the name he'd given your best friend, calling him Johnny from that day onwards.

Now, here he was anew. A few more steps and within reach, you merely had to walk to him.

Excitement buzzed in your veins.

You smoothed a hand down your outfit. "Do you think he'll appreciate the joke?"

"Knowing Lt and his humor, or lack thereof actually, he might just hate himself for loving it too much."

A giddy feeling spurted in your chest. "You think?"

"Oh, yea. But go easy on him," he added, peering down at you, brow arched, "the man just landed from a solo mission. There's an uneasy air about him tonight. The fact that he's even attending is gift enough for me."

"That means he's tired, grumpy, and susceptible to an easy one night stand. Just my type of target."

"Ay ye vixen. I said go easy. Here," he lowered the zipper on your chest, revealing more of your cleavage, "that's better. Now go get him. God knows he needs it," he grumbled the last part.

Happily, you almost skipped your way to him. But just before reaching, two bodies swarmed you, hugging you close and screaming in your ear over the bar music. Your friends from college.

"Where have you been!"

"It's so good to see you again, come!"

You were dragged away, more distance than you'd like being put between you and Simon. Nooo.

It wasn't after two hours of losing yourself in the crowd, dancing with people, with Johnny, backs pressing together to roll to the beat of the songs in your sickest moves, that you, downing more margaritas than you could count, summoned back your wits and sauntered your way to the bar.

Plopping down on a stool next to his, you mirthfully laughed, buzzed out of your mind.

The melodious sound cut his conversation short with Price and dragged his attention to you, and - oh, fuck.

Those eyes.

Even in your stupor you admitted to their allure.

He walked, talked, like a man who's had his flesh peeled from his bones. Eyes too haunted to be alive, too haunted to be dead.

A man imprisoned in the infinite present that neither knew him reprieve or end.

You were so lost in them that you didn't say anything to him for a long moment. Then, "Hi," you lowly voiced, grinning like a fool who just got the best present under the Christmas tree.

Reminding yourself to be sexier, you opted for a, "What is a girl like you doing...sitting all alone when a hunk like me is right here?"

Your brows furrowed in the middle. No, that didn't sound right. You tried again.

"What is a girl like me doing with...with a hunk like you, sitting...all... No, that's not it either."

The bulk of him shifted in his seat, whiskey in a gloveless hand, as he now regarded you.

To be the sole focus of those eyes, it killed you. Like honeyed whiskey swirling with the silver clouds of storm outside, it made you feel more drunk than you already were.

But you could see how tired he really was, eyes rimmed red, thin veins stark against the white of his sclera.

"All right," he spoke, tone indulging, but rigid and gravely as the rest of him. "You have my attention."

You did? Success!

Even with the balaclava hiding that no doubt beautiful face of his, you complimented him, afraid that if you didn't, you'd be committing a heinous crime.

"You are." You hiccupped. "You are so pretty."

"And you are shit-faced. Had too much to drink, did ya?"

You leaned in, eyes twinkling with something wicked that even he could not deny.

"Liquid courage," you drawled. And then laughed again, dusky and free.

Price, having noticed where the conversation was heading, turned away with a warm chuckle.

"I'll leave you two to it," he said, giving his attention fully to Gaz, who sat to his left.

You waved at the boys, all giddy. And then motioned with your finger to Ghost's waist, as if to say you were going to get inside his pants. Oh, yes, he was the object of your desires.

Gaz chocked on his bottle of beer.

Price palmed his mouth to stifle a laugh. Unsuccessfully.

Ghost, on the other hand, when you glanced up at him, had his lids hooded.

In his language, that might as well translate to a glower.

"You have one minute," he almost barked out. Glower, indeed.

You straightened, expression serious. You gave him a captain's two-finger salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Then, before he could toss you out the window of the bar, you followed it up with, "Heard you like jokes. Do you like mine?"

You motioned to your costume.

He followed the movement, gaze raking down your body, and then slowly up, blond lashes fluttering. When his eyes landed on your cleavage, heat filled them, and in reaction, warmth spooled low in your belly.

"Clever," he throatily remarked, glancing away to his whiskey.

All for you.

His compliment added even more heat to your belly, and you blushed, biting your lip.

"I have more where that came from."

A low rumbling sound. It took you a while to decipher it as a hum. "Is that what the courage was for? Not in the mood, poppy."

His rejection would have floored you had you not been already sat.

Not giving up, you leaned further in, fingers trailing over his leathered forearm that rested on the counter. If one focused enough, they'd also spot the slight tremble in them.

At the closeness, he craned his head down slightly to give you a warning look.

It was dark and foreboding, commanding you to watch the boundaries he'd laid or you might just pay the price.

Any man would have run the other direction. But you were not a man. You were horny. For him. Your desire for Ghost had been stoking for months now, and this very moment, so close to him, you thought you might burn alive with it.

You needed him between your legs, feeding his length into you, assuaging the ache that had made a home there with a friction only he could create.

His scent filled your lungs, and you visibly shuddered. He smelled of the storm outside and something else, something masculine and singular only to him.

If you weren't already drunk, the mere heat of him would've rendered you stupid.

Maybe it had, because the next words out of your mouth were sultry and promising.

"You know, it is not ghosts that haunt, but rather they are the haunted. Give me one night, and I might just chase them all away."

You gently dropped from your stool then, stepping into the space between his parted legs, hands daringly skimming over his robust thighs - before warmly palming them, fingertips digging in his cargo pants.

And he was letting you. That fact alone made your head reel.

Face tilting up, you bopped your chin against his clothed one.

At that, Ghost breathed in deep, and then breathed out slow.

Were you getting to him? Or was he really just tired to deal with you, as Johnny had warned?

Only one way to find out.

"I have another joke for you," you hummed. His lids dropped to your lips, and stayed there. You licked them for emphases, the pink tip of your tongue leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

A sound started in his chest, the beginnings of a groan, you guessed, before he quashed it, and you wanted to whine like a little girl who'd been denied her favorite sweet.

"Be out with it," he lowly grinded out.

A small, playful smirk. "What do you call a man who's great at sex with a sigh and moan in his name?"

An intrigued huff, but it came out rasped. "Go on then."

You stretched to your toes, back bowing and perked breasts brushing against his hardened chest. As you dug the heels of your palms into his thighs, your lips trailed up his jawline and nestled right at his ear.

"Simon," you heatedly whispered, making sure to actually moan the last syllable.

When you pulled your face back an inch, you saw his pupils blown, a frightening darkness overshadowing all color. His breathing had deepened, turned almost harsh, but quiet, as his suddenly ravenous look made your knees weak.

You'd never seen his eyes glimmer like that, so predatory, and that turned you on more. So much so that molten heat drooled out of you, soaking your panties. Did he know the effect he had on you?

His hand traveled up between your bodies, and blood rushed in your ears, your heart palpitating. Had you done it? Were you finally going to know the taste of him? Know how his lips felt against yours, moving, devouring? How hotly his kiss melted every inch of you?

As anticipation coiled tight in your stomach, his iron knuckles pressed into your lower chest, right below your revealed cleavage - and nudged you away.

You plopped back down to your heels, taking steps back the more he outstretched his arm and pushed you farther, like he couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as you.

Confused, hurt - a look you did your best to mask - you searched his expression. There was nothing to gain, masked as he was.

"Point made, love," his deep - deeper - timbre chafed the air between your bodies. "But not tonight. Not in the mood. Go on, now. Dance with Johnny, will ya?"

Humiliation blistered your cheeks and you quickly sobered - and felt increasingly sick to your stomach.

He'd just dismissed you like you were some schoolgirl acting out in his classroom.

Hands balling into tight fists, you stole a determined step toward him. You'd worked quite hard on those jokes, mind him.

"Some fun, you are. What, afraid of a little pleasure?"

He leisurely blinked. "Pleasure's not what I'm afraid of," he began only to cut himself short. A glower crowned his ashen brows, smudged by the eye paint, and he grumbled something under his breath you could not make out.

Swaying a bit on your feet - liquid courage, your arse - you flipped back your hair. "Fine. I'll find somebody else to have fun with." Then, inching closer to him, you leaned in to drunkenly whisper, "And when they're balls deep inside of me, I'll still wish it was you."

The glass of whiskey shattered in his grasp when he fisted it too hard, and that groan, that heavenly, wonderful sound of peak male frustration, finally escaped.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, poppy."

With a cheery twirl, you marched away, lithe shoulders blanketed by the crowd, and left the ever stunned lieutenant to his devices.

But his rejection still chafed you, and, oh, God, you needed to get wasted. So wasted, this night would never come back to haunt you again.

. ☾ .

It wasn't after another hour of dancing, partying, and singing sappy songs at the top of your lungs with Johnny and the gang, even tipsily sniffing some stacked soaps and secretly hiding the ones you liked in your bra, you finally found yourself in your designated spot - hunched over a toilet seat and vomiting the contents in your stomach.

It was expected. You'd drank and drank and drank... And now, your whole world swam.

A wretched sound tore from your throat as another round lurched out of your mouth, splattering into the toilet.

You groaned, vision blurred. Ew.

Settling back, you wiped at your lips with your wrist, heaving. So much for having a good time. But Johnny was happy, so you were happy. With his dangerous line of work and your stressful one, you two deserved such nights of peerless fun.

Like the good 'ole times, something Johnny must've needed too, since he didn't usually celebrate his birthdays. But when he did, oh, shit hit the fan in the most amazing ways.

Recalling some of your escapades, you smiled to yourself, completely unaware of the large silhouette shadowing past the doorway.

The lavatory door whined closed.

At the sound, you looked up.

Ghost stilled in his steps, cocking his head at you in question.

You huffed. "What are you doing in the ladies' bathroom?"

"This is the men's." He thumbed his right, where the urinals lined the wall.

What?

This whole time you were hunched over the men's toilet seat?

Another round of nausea shot up your throat, uncalled for, and you bent over the toilet in time to unflatteringly decorate it.

Gross!

This was so not how you wanted your night to end with Simon, either.

At his retreating steps, you immediately clambered to your shaky feet. "Please, don't leave. I get scared when vertigo hits." Such pathetic admittance, but it was the truth. When your world spun out of control, so did your fears.

He stopped. Looked over his shoulder.

You tried to hurry to him, but knocked one ankle against the other, and unceremoniously tripped. Hard. Head first, down you thwacked against the marbled flooring.

You blacked out.

When you slowly came to, webs of darkness blurring the edges of your vision, you moaned your distress. Bit by bit, Ghost's face registered, hovering over yours, his Manchester accent thick with how he roughly ordered you to come to.

Blinking up at him, you deliriously raised your hand to pat his masked cheek but to no avail. Darling man. Were you dreaming? If so, you never wanted to wake up. You smiled a small smile at him.

"Hi," you whispered. You sounded so wasted and oh, so enamored. Sober you was going to have a serious conversation with drunk you tomorrow.

"Don't move. Easy, now, yeah?" He pushed you down when you weakly fought to rise up. "You're bleedin' all over the place, poppy."

You tried to reason with him, say how disgusting the floor was and you could never lay down there.

"Should've thought of that before drinkin' your posh arse stupid, yeah?" was his argument.

Dream Simon was mean.

"I'm posh," you hummed out a silly laugh. "Posh like a Spice Girl."

"Be quiet," he roughed out, unimpressed. From his pocket, he withdrew a glove and pressed it against your temple.

A throbbing ache hissed where the clothe touched your skin, and you winced.

After a stringing moment, "Why do you hate me?" you softly asked.

His eyes focused on you then, deep and intrusive, and you licked your lips in consequence.

"I don't hate you," came his gruff retort.

"So then why won't you kiss me?"

A slow blink away from your face. He might as well have rolled his eyes. "You don't want to kiss a man like me, poppy."

Why? Because it would rock your socks off? Render you into a silly little mess? Make your dirtiest dreams come true?

Even with a bleeding temple, you understood the meaning behind his words. Maybe even rejection. He was a dangerous man, callous and brutal. Men like him only caused pain and destruction, spawned nightmares and reveled in the blood spilled.

But from the stories you've heard of him, especially from Johnny, and from your own little interaction, you saw more than the mask he donned. Saw past it to something buried in him. Something guarded so very deep inside, not even sunlight could pierce the shadows around it, but it was there. And you saw it even now, drunk and utterly wasted you may be.

Maybe he thought he'd hurt you. Maybe he tumbled rough and mean under the sheets. At the image, arousal ignited in your veins, backlit behind the wall of drowsiness and pain that still coursed through your system.

"And... And if I still do? Would you kiss me then?"

"Negative."

A pout.

"How's your vision?"

With you in it, "Good."

A clipped nod. "I'll help you to your feet. And then we can take care of that nasty little wound there, yeah?"

"Aye, aye, captain," you murmured.

When he pressed the glove a bit too deeply into the wound, you immediately rectified your words. "I meant, yes, sir. As you say, sir."

A hum, low and raspy. "That's more like it."

Slowly but surely, you climbed to your feet. For a moment, your vision went black and your ears rang, and you paused, waiting for the darkness to pass. Simon waited with you.

"Better?" he asked when you straightened, touching where his glove pressed against your temple. Your fumbling hand fell upon his leanly adroit one.

Skin grazed skin, electrifying warmth rivaled warmth, and you softly gasped. You nodded, gaze lost in the sheer view of him.

Ghost towered over you, your head lining his broad chest, and you suddenly felt engulfed. It certainly didn't help when the reality of him ending you with just the flick of his wrist if he so willed hovered over your consciousness.

God, he was so big. Just the mass of him and how he crowded any room he was in, made your mouth salivate.

And now, enveloped in his masculine heat, he was all you could see, hear, smell.

Feel.

"Don't look at me with eyes like that, poppy," he gravely warned, lids hooded as he stared you down.

Your throat tightened, lungs drawing in as all air escaped you. "And how am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm dinner."

You moaned despite yourself. It was achingly soft and needy.

You wanted to taste him in the back of your throat, feel his throbbing weight on your tongue, mouth working him mad enough that being pushed over the edge of insanity was his only option. And when that happened, you wanted to know how he sounded as all shred of control left him, his back arching as he spilled all he was worth in you, pumping and pumping, still in desperate chase of that high.

"Bloody hell, still with that look. Not a good listener, are ya? Come 'ere." He dragged you between the two sinks. "Lean against the wall." You did as told, back flattening against the large mirror mounted to it. He opened the faucet and let the cool water run as he wet the glove.

Ruggedly, "Stay still."

With that, he squeezed the water out and slowly got to work, dabbing around the wound and cleaning you up. It was a painstakingly tedious process, but you didn't mind, wincing here and there as you watched him tend to you.

See? Something more in there.

You studied the furrow in his brow, the sharp concentration in his eyes, the even rise and fall of his shoulders, and thought you lost a little bit of your mind for him.

He rinsed the glove, squeezed it, and resumed his task. His hand palmed the whole top of your head as he maneuvered you in whichever way he liked, tilting your face up, down, to the side, as he reached all spots inflicted.

The rough pad of his thumb pinned over the arch of your brow, and you thought you felt him subtly brush at it in his nursing.

When he caught you dumbly staring up at him for the third time, he broke the comfortable silence. "Shouldn't be drinking that much."

Had he been keeping tabs on you? Such wishful thinking, but butterflies still took flight in your tummy. You watched his masked face.

If his lips weren't shielded, you thought you'd feel his breath ghost over your cheeks.

Instead, you innocently batted your lashes at him. "Am I in trouble...sir?" you teasingly - sultrily - added.

He was in the process of wetting the glove when his gaze snapped down to you.

It was brief, but there was a flash of desire behind those lidded eyes before he subdued it with the subtle clench of his jaw.

The air in the room, on the other hand, he could not manipulate. It altered, thickened, became...hotter. Tension pulsed from his body raw and electrifying.

When he gradually straightened, protruding his chest, you suddenly felt suffocated - in the best of ways.

In the sizzling silence, you felt cornered, and your lips parted in anticipation.

He spoke, his words measured and roughish, betraying nothing. "You're bleedin' all over the place and yet you still can't keep it in your pants, mm, poppy?"

You bit your lip, a muffled sound of excitement building up in your chest for provoking a Special Forces soldier - Lieutenant - of all people. "Mhm."

You were stupidly giddy. He merely shook his head at you.

Then, he was watching you again, blond lashes fluttering as his gaze traced over your features, slowly, so agonizingly slow, before settling on your lips. You felt the heat of his stare on them.

A small sound got caught up in your throat, and it wasn't missed by him.

"Do I excite you, little one?" he quietly hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest, crackling ever so slightly, and it felt like honeyed butter melting down your skin.

A tremor racked your entire form, arousal burning your pupils wide and your breath scorching hot - all for him to witness and take in.

It must've pleased him, because he gave you the sexiest bedroom eyes you've ever beheld, the sheer fever in them sweltering and wild.

Huskily, "Yeah?" He stepped forward, large boots emitting no sound. You pressed further up against the wall, chin brushing over the leather of his jacket.

A thin layer of sweat dotted your skin at his nearness, your body involuntarily heating up, an unbearable ache building up between your legs.

And you thought Simon knew exactly what he was doing to your senses, because he followed it up with, "You look at the mask and think you're goin' to get fucked hard, is that it?"

His fingers lightly pinched your chin, his thumb darting up to caress the underside of your lower lip, grazing the edges and eliciting a ticklish sensation.

A needy whine from you caused that broad chest of his to collapse in a visible shudder. Seeing the reaction you pulled from him, your mouth fell open in want, and you meekly grinded up your hips against his thighs.

Your clothed core skimmed over the rough texture of his cargo pants, catching on a crease, but it was enough friction to have your head falling back against the mirror and you keening.

"More," you hotly moaned, feeling wetness seep out of you.

You tested the waters again, widening your stance and rolling your hips upward. Your clit meshed tight against his solid thigh, and when you rubbed it in gradual circles, grinding down, his thigh muscles bulged in response, hitting a sensitive nerve.

"Fuck," you gasped, mouth parting wider. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. "Ghost, please."

With a commanding grip of your hip, he stilled your ministrations. "None of that, poppy," he hoarsely warned. Then, "Shit," he lowly grunted when he felt your hips fight his hand for more stimulation, "That bad, huh?"

You mustered a nod, eyes never leaving his. "Want you," you breathed out.

"Can't have me." A small shake of his head. "Won't give you what you want. 'Sides, you're drunk out of your mind, love."

With that, he released you, backing away before you could reach for him.

Suddenly bereft, you wanted to shout your dissent.

Instead, your body laxed against the wall, palms clutching the coolness of the tiled wall. You already missed his nearness. His hands on you. You didn't want this moment to end.

You didn't want him to go.

Not so soon, anyway. Because God knew he'd make promise to his sobriquet.

"Wash your face. And get your shit together. That's a direct order," resounded his harsh command. If you hadn't wallowed too deep in his rejection, you might've caught the way his hands fisted at his sides when you whined in frustration.

With a defeated slump of your shoulders, you commanded your legs work and rounded the sink.

Palming the rushing water, you went about washing your hands and thoroughly rinsing your mouth. All sensation of him drowned with the water, leaving your skin cool to the touch.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he added more softly, which still grated the air.

Your heart seized in your chest. Why the sudden care?

What game did he play with you? Because one moment, he looked like he wanted to ravish you and the next, like he couldn't get away from you fast enough. Which was it, did you repulse him or attract him?

When he touched you, it was never deeply, desperately, but lightly, airily, leaving you begging for more.

And making him ever estranged.

What was his problem?

What was yours?

Why did you desire this particular man so wantonly? You had to find yourself a fling for the night. You had to flush Ghost out of your system for good.

You had to go home.

How you were going to accomplish both in one night, though, you had no clue.

Yes, while sober, you might have soldiered through the trauma to your head, but right now, still drunk and dizzy, you couldn't tell your elbow from your arse.

Splashing another round of cool water over your face, you grunted when you accidentally swept over your wound.

Appearing much like a drowned rat than the intended sexy Ghostbuster, you shut the faucet, clutched the edges of the sink and lifted your head to stare in the mirror.

Your eyes fell on Ghost.

He quietly watched you watch him from the reflection, a looming shadow in the background, waiting. You expected him to abscond you, but he remained - and that gladdened you beyond belief. Which also now irritated you.

He extended his glove to you.

Breath suddenly shaky, you turned around, the ugly bruised cut on your temple momentarily forgotten. When you made to step forward, crimson blanketed your left eye, and you swiped at it. In the haze, you saw your fingers coated in dark red.

"Bollocks." You started bleeding again. "No need for a hospital. I live a street down. I have a med kit. I'll..." You creased your brows in thought, still tipsy. "I'll care for it at home. Yes. And since you blue-balled me, I intent on finding someone to do the naughty with. I need you out of my system and out of my mind."

Oh, sober you was really going to sit you down tomorrow morning, all right.

He didn't respond to you.

The journey to Ghost proved to be a dangerous one, as the floor and walls adamantly dodged you, making your world swing whichever way you grasped for leverage.

You felt like you existed in a gigantic ball rolling down a hill at full-speed just waiting to burst and send you flying through the air. And you were in a hell of your own making.

Barking out a curse, you heard Ghost stomp your way - before you felt strong arms band around your shoulders and under your knees, effectively hoisting you up in his arms. "You are trouble, poppy. And you won't be taking care of anything in this state. I'll drop you home."

With that, he carried you out of the restroom, the bar, and into the chilled night of London city.

an: it got too long, yall, too long! this is part 1 of 2 for now. i couldn't help it, when i write, i write. part 2, we're ghostin' it up! (therell be smut) hope you enjoyed it!

209 notes · View notes

ac1dl4v3 · 2 years

Text

elysian rain.

who . . itachi uchiha x male y/n

length . . 3.7k words!

byr . . mature/smut!, black male! reader, he/they pronouns, gay relationship obvi, fluff and smut, rainy date, pottery ouu, body kisses, some y/n praise, implied love making, third person, this shit was fun to write-i'm so proud of it *wipes tears*, male reader representation yess!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★

𝒯he weather was rudely unpredictable, choosing this lovely day to perform an obnoxious tantrum against Y/n and Itachi's wide window panes. The sky was a clear shade of blue just this morning, the only feature to align with its welcoming color being the white smears of clouds and specs of flocking birds towards north. Though now those clouds were much less white than grey, and the once clear blue sky was nothing but a murky dark shade to reciprocate the dreary weather. So much for that cute picnic date the couple had planned. It was undoubtedly a dispiriting fact that they were forcibly stuck in this fuck ass apartment; disclosed from the damp air and muddy puddles encroaching the rest of the city.

"Mtch, Itachi?" Y/n called, rolling over on the couch with aggravation as he stretched. He faced his boyfriend, Itachi, from across the living room with a sigh of boredom. The dark haired man glanced up at him from where he was sitting, strings of hair escaping his respective ponytail and tickling the divine frame of his feminine features. In that peaceful spot by the window with his cozy rocking chair, a new novel he recently picked up laying idly on his covered lap

"What is it, Y/n?" Itachi's voice was similar to a mumble, being so far away, but Y/n could hear the usual gentle tone of his deep voice. His eyes were as attentive as always, analyzing Y/n's annoyed expression and dramatic position laid out on the couch. From the way his limbs flopped over the arm and back of the furniture, it was clear that the cancellation of today's romantic plans was wearing him down. He couldn't even fish out the energy to shift across the coffee table and grab the remote. Instead, he laid there with nothing to stimulate him but the clashing of rain against the glass and the low rumbling of the dryer in the distant laundry room.

"What type of date is this, bro?" Y/n complained, dull disinterest teeming from his plain tone. It was painfully obvious that on such a dreary day there wasn't much the couple could do, but damn was this nigga bored beyond recognition. He pondered on what happened to their neatly packed basket and folded polka dot blanket. The strawberries sprinkled in sugar and packed away in the fridge, and the expensive cheesecake he went to the trouble of buying. Was it all for nothing? No, they could reschedule for another day, without a doubt- but Y/n was still a bit vexed about the situation. "Man, at this point I'm boutta k-,"

"Y/n." With a glare slimly present, he spoke- but Itachi did more than simply call out his lover's name. As a follow up, he sighed and stood from his seat, stretching his arms out and placing his book neatly on the coffee table. The glittery feeling of responsibility to lighten your bitter mood seemed to have a hold on his actions. "I told you to stop kidding like that."

The knitted blanket once draped over his lap was in a bundled heap at his feet, and he held a relaxed demeanor as he stepped over it's mountain-like appearance. Itachi then walked past the living room to the narrow hallway without another word, disappearing into the other side of the lavishly sized apartment. Though Y/n was too uninterested to get up and follow his boyfriends figure as he usually did, finding it unfavorable to act like a lost puppy on such an irritating day. All he wanted was to pamper Itachi for once, the man was always being the gentleman of the relationship. For once, Y/n wanted to be the one to hold open the door, or to make his plate for him. Of all days for a downpour to devour this glistening city of buildings and street lights, it just had to be today.

A few minutes later, Itachi's presence had returned to Y/n's active acknowledgment. His thin, well built figure had re-entered the room with an armful of familiar looking supplies. If Y/n couldn't see the small Pottery wheel under Itachi's arm, they would've still known what his boyfriend was planning to entertain him with. Simply because the nostalgic smell of clay was now prominently befalling against the once cream vanilla scented living room.

It wasn't until everything was in order that Itachi finally decided to speak again, standing before Y/n with his thin hand stretched out to greet his lover. A hand that, of course, Y/n found no resistance in accepting; idiotic giggles escaping his tittering smile as he moved to the spot on the floor. "Today we can do pottery." Itachi decided calmly, finding a comfortable seat beside you on the floor. "Then, tomorrow we can pick flowers to fill our vases. Alright?"

To say Y/n was congested with a sense of contentment and benevolent affection was a bit more than an understatement, though he did his best to remain composed. Other than the gratified smile protruding across his brown lips, they appeared to be primarily unfazed by their boyfriends kind actions. "That sounds nice, Itachi." He agreed softly through their upturned lips, placing a hand over Itachi's on the floor and leaning upwards with an obvious intent. Y/n pressed a feebly gentle kiss to Itachi's cheek to express his appreciation, resisting the urge to tackle the man and instead shower him in butterfly kisses. Oh what an urge that was, but they did well to hold their composure as he added a genuine, "Thank you." before leaning back into his respective spot.

Itachi closed his eyes in sweet acceptance, letting out a soft "Hm.." as he held no resistance against the gentle smile greeting his lonesome lips. In the back of his mind, he'd hoped his boyfriend would take this opportunity to douse every inch of his face with peppered kisses, as he usually would. He expected the orange sulfur and monarchs in the center of his slim stomach to expand and throw a fit, azalea and daffodil's blossoming in his chest as they'd done when the men first met. In fact, he might've even been looking forward to it. But of course with little hesitation, he deemed this as being a bit needy, pushing his subconscious desires elsewhere. Itachi instead directed his attention to the navy blue pottery wheel in front of him, deciding it was paramount to not keep his beloved waiting.

Y/n watched in wait of some form of directions as Itachi took a grey piece of clay from the supplies, handing a palm sized chunk to Y/n and began forming his own into the necessary shape. Not knowing much about pottery himself, Y/n cleared his throat awkwardly and followed their boyfriends actions- taking it as a nonverbal instruction. Once both pieces of clay were in a gumdrop shape and the couple's hands were besmeared with grey, Itachi plopped his on the wheel and began patting it down in order for it to stick to the center board. A necessary first step it seemed to be since he was sure to really hit the poor clay before he began modeling it into what would soon be a pot.

"Once I'm finished with mine, we can do yours." He assured, taking notice of Y/n glancing at him and the wheel with clear uncertainty. Between his own lump of clay, Itachi's, and the wheel, there was an ambivalent question mark stapled across his expression, and it didn't take a genius to notice- although Itachi sure was one. Therefore, Itachi calmly reassured him with, "It won't take long."

Though Y/n didn't swallow this response as he intended him to. "No, no! You're good, I just don't want mine to dry before I start." Y/n admitted genuinely. He figured if he didn't make the block into something soon, it would dry and be harder to use- not to mention it would be wasteful. Regardless of his theories, he had no reason to fear. Itachi was experienced, this being his hobby and all, and knew well that it wouldn't harden as long as some water was kept in contact. Therefore, he sped up the pottery wheel and dipped his hand in the nearby bucket of water before beginning the messy process of his masterpiece.

"If you keep your hands wet as you hold it, it won't dry." Itachi informed, holding his focus on the spiraling grey piece as it pulled its length up similarly to the extensive frame of a building. Y/n couldn't even form a response as his attention found more interest in watching the satisfying build up of the smooth material, coating Itachi's slender fingers with every change of shape. It transformed from a sphere to a tower, then it was flattened midway and given a hole in its center. It resembled an odd cup, or a stubby volcano, but somehow Y/n still found it more impressive than he let his unfazed facial expression let on.

Itachi found tranquility in his pottery, it could be referred to as something like his desired, irenic haven. Which would have to be why he found himself paying no mind to the compliments Y/n couldn't help but adorn him in. It wasn't until he heard the sweet adjective "pretty" that he tuned in, hoping he hadn't missed anything vitally blush inducing while he was drowning in those imaginative thoughts of ceramics and porcelain.

"I mean, you look pretty too, but I'm talkin' about the clay right now." Y/n corrected himself, leaning in closer to get a better look at the details enveloping itachi's fingers. The thick, viscid pieces of clay sticking and smearing across his fingers as he dug the two pointers into the middle of the block; spreading the spinning walls apart to make a wide opening as you'd see in a pot. Then, with one of the nearby sponges he'd brought out, Itachi began smoothing down the inside of the unfinished creation as well as the outside, pressing a bit harder on the petal so the wheel would spin at a temporarily accelerated pace. It was truly a satisfying process that made Y/n consider taking more interest in his boyfriends artistic hobby- though it was messy. This would have to be an activity solely for when his nails were bare and ready to be temporarily filthy, because goodness was it clinging to Itachi's under nail like a star fish on glass.

Not long after he smoothed the sides and evened out the length, Itachi slowed the wheel down to an immediate halt. "Is.. Oh, that's it?" Y/n asked with fascination, quickly tugging himself away from the dedicated entrance he found himself in.

Itachi told him that that indeed was it, it wasn't too difficult a process; it simply takes practice to make a good piece. So with that, he quickly cleaned off the wheel with the sponge and peeked over at Y/n, awaiting some form of response. Maybe a "Ight, so it's my turn now", like he'd usually say, brimming with self confidence and natural optimism. Alas, there was nothing of the sort to greet Itachi's sanguine expression, Y/n was as quiet as a mouse... It was apparent that his attention was held entirely too well during the process. So much that he didn't hear the minor instructions Itachi had mumbled to him as he fixed the undeveloped pot. Hence the confusion on the man's face as Itachi slid the pottery wheel towards him, expecting him to slap on his clay and get started.

"Itachi, you know I don't know much about pottery..." Y/n began, pursing his lips and glancing between the wheel and their boyfriend's deadpanned expression. Itachi didn't even bother forming a response, he refused to repeat himself simply because Y/n wasn't as attentive as he should've been. When the awkward silence became entirely too much to bare, Y/n simply said "fuck it" and slapped the clay on the center of the wheel. "Now don't be mad if mine looks better than yours, shit just comes naturally."

Such confidence was almost comedic, the man clearly didn't have a thorough understanding of what he was doing. Slightly pushing on the petal before lifting back off when the quick acceleration caught him off guard. Had they forgotten how they attentively observed Itachi follow each step within the past six minutes? Surely that must've been the case, because by now Itachi was sighing as a way to cope with the horridly taunting chuckle threatening to befall his pretty lips.

Without a word to announce his next course of action, Itachi adjusted from his respective seat at Y/n's left; instead, moving to the back of the man's struggling figure. "Come on, Y/n. Were you not watching?" Itachi inquired calmly and knowingly against Y/n's neck, leaning his chest against his back and innocently pressing his covered crotch to his boyfriends ass. Of course, this was genuine innocence, he was only placing his knees on either side of his boyfriend's calves in order to help him make this pot. He was in no way trying to provoke anything sexual. If anything, he was promoting a moment of intimate romance in replacement of today's scheduled picnic, the weather being so intrusive and all. Though regardless of his motives, the position was clearly a bit... less than decent, or at least less than "innocent". And Y/n wasn't a dense dumbass, he knew quite well what this looked like- or rather what this felt like.

He managed to clear his throat and re-dip his hands in the bucket of water along with Itachi, swearing that he was paying attention. He was just a bit forgetful that was all. The exact details seemed to slip his mind, replacing his vital memories with the pale details of Itachi's clay covered finger tips and palms. Though he'd be too awkward and embarrassed to openly confess this to Itachi, the reason as to why he knew not a thing about how to start this shit. Therefore, he decided to simply move on and let Itachi show him the ropes.

It was a gentle, warm feeling- almost ticklish, and surely sensually memorable, as Itachi maneuvered his arms to comfortably guide Y/n's fingers around the thick clay. Both hands drenched in water, the droplets landing on the surface below as it began to accelerate and rotate in place. The low whirl it vibrating through the air wasn't as relevant or noticeable as a fly when Y/n had this fluttering feeling contorting through his abdomen. Delicate panzica and rare begonia building up in the pit of his stomach before blossoming politely in his amiable chest. Itachi's fingers were soft and slender as they linked with Y/n's, and both of them- or more Y/n than Itachi- were doing their utmost best to remain composed regardless of the warmly heart rate surging contact. The constant shifting in place, Y/n squeezing his thighs together with an awkward sense of sexual anticipation and intimacy draping itself naturally around his fuzzed head space.

"Am I- Uh, we doin' it right?" Y/n inquired, mentally cussing at himself for stumbling so doltishly over his simple question. He was just too focused on the gliding of Itachi's fingers between his, so much that he struggled to piece together audibly literate words. The delicate interlacing of their skin with the wet clay, only interrupting the messy labyrinth to dip their hands in more room temp water. It was impossibly euphoric and held no effort in encasing Y/n's rib cage with silky cirrus and suffocating cumulus.

"Yes, you're doing just fine, Y/n. Shape it with my hands, like this." Itachi replied in what felt like a butterfly's hushed tone. His lips unintentionally tickled Y/n's shoulder as he spoke, the bare brown skin slipping desperately from the white tee all on its own. Tempting and taunting Itachi like a pretty Rosary Pea, one he knew he shouldn't touch for it was doused in sweet beguiling poison. The bottom line of reality is that no man is perfect, and this naturally charming person sitting before Itachi was indeed, if nothing else, his. Who was he to deny himself such gestures for someone he desperately adored and, in fact, was his? Thus, when he suddenly lost interest in maintaining pressure on the acceleration pedal, and when he finally grew bored of this growing tension between the two warm bodies, no one could blame him for how his hands ventured bluntly up Y/n's shirt. The smears of cold clay on the other male's torso and chest surprising them, a soft gasp escaping their lips brimming with staggering pleasure and satisfaction.

Itachi discarded all of his care and consideration for his boyfriend's clean tee shirt. He found no time to go wash his hands first, surely Y/n would understand that he held more value than a simple tee shirt. That he, unlike the cotton material, held needs and wants and elysian desires. Especially since this was out of complete adoration and affection for his beloved boyfriend, the one he loved with every piece of him.

Without a word, Itachi gently placed his lips onto Y/n's naturally warm shoulder, fluttering sensitive kisses across the soft brown skin before him. His eyelashes tickling just at their blade, sending teasing butterflies through their chest and stomach, the parts of him that had already blossomed with fondness for Itachi's sudden change in action.

"Itachi?.. You alright?" He asked, in a silky tone of honey dewed benevolence. He was informed that Itachi was more than alright from the way he exhaled through his nose in response, light breaths warming Y/n's goosebump traced skin. Though still, he expected a response even as Itachi found it imperative to gently dig his finger tips into the skin of Y/n's abdomen; gliding the slender digits across the skin with a scintilla of tranquility gifted by clouds. His kisses only became more sensual and- dare one be honest- messy as Y/n moved their neck to the side in amusement. Both sets of eye lids flutter in acceptance to these emotions, impure and all, as the poisonous flowers of Rosary Pea and Oleander dominate their united and scandalously intimate actions.

"I don't mean to act so intrusively.." Itachi noted in an apologetic voice, though he still failed to reduce the actions of his clay drenched fingers across Y/n's skin. The impulsive suggestions his head- or maybe his crotch, were tempting him to continue couldn't be explained well with words. Which gives reason to why he didn't bother, he simply did; and Y/n found no urge to stop befalling his current state. His only responses were the gasps of breath he fell into, and agape lips he licked between those inhales and exhales.

Two warm bodies, delicate fingers tracing Y/n's skin with care, Itachi's lips suctioning lightly despite being heavily drenched with addictive inhales and delicate saliva. Before Y/n knew it, he was spewing noises he didn't know could escape his chest so facilely. Noises that even Itachi, as attentive and intuitive as he was, didn't expect to greet him so tactlessly. Mere milliseconds later, those same muffled sounds were persuading Y/n's hands to find Itachi's, reenacting the intertwining of their messy fingers as they'd recently connected between the forgotten lump of clay. Without shame or caution, he guides Itachi's palm further past his torso. Pressing it towards the growing distraction in his pajama pants, which clung to his milk chocolate brown hips with little to no responsibility; exposing his v line more with every pitiful air hump he commits.

Y/n mumbles in an affable, sultry tone beyond the suppressed moans and exhales of his built up arousal. "Whatever's gotten into you today.." Before moving his unoccupied hand to Itachi's sweatpant covered thigh, holding a firm grip on it as he hears his lover's lips unclasp from his abused and drenched shoulder. Neither of them release his hands, nor their positions, as Y/n skews his line of vision to Itachi's expression; light spurs of rose petal pink prickling and glistening across the man's light cheeks and the tip of his nose. Y/n dares to speak while analyzing, in awe, such a gloriously handsome- no, divine front, and his lips curl into what one would call a grin as he leans in impossibly closer. "Don't stop."

And at that moment, as the never ending downpour imprisoning the glistening city in murky puddles finally came to a close, Y/n and Itachi found themselves in an artistically divine portrait of doves and pearly whites. Clinging to one another desperately as they passionately shared their pure adoration and seraphic, intimate reverence for one another. Smears of clay and forgotten boredom confining the two men to sloppy kisses and unfeigned compliments. A sweet "Handsome" and an irrepressible "I love you" lugging the acts of intimacy to a solar level of buoyant roses and vanilla extract. Even Aphrodite herself found it imperative to simper and fan herself, for these two were so terribly enveloped in one another's features of perfection, it was adorably laughable. It seems one could presume that sometimes the convivial things in life aren't derived from the long-winded, tedious plans we construct. Maybe it's stupidly less arduous to find pleasure in creating a pot- preferably with Itachi Uchiha on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

#bayi'sword!#bk originals!#itachi uchiha #itachi smut #itachi fluff #naruto shippuden #itachi x male reader #artist itachi (ouu)#gay reader #akatsuki fanfiction #black male reader #itachi x black male y/n

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erwinscrybaby · 2 years

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.

male character x f!reader. nsfw. mentions of death, reader is not sane, oral sex, rough sex, mentions of choking.

903 words.

outside your bunker, the world falls apart. building are falling down; people scream in despair, cries are heard everywhere. help, all of them say. land shakes because of the imminent wave of death that approaches; children and old people pray for whatever they believe. the sound is loud, it’s impossible not to feel despair too, hoping that the authorities do their best to save the population. anyone would be as nervous as the humans outside. the sound of the end of the world is scary. but not for you. it isn’t your problem anymore. your life now is complete. fuck everything else.

inside your booth, the home theater plays a loud and ironic ievan polkka cover. piano, by a russian girl you knew when life was normal. it’s such a great melody. makes you happy. you can’t hear what’s happening outside, and you wouldn’t care if you heard. fuck it. ievan polkka is playing, the food’s almost ready. there’s a man—oh, this man—cooking you your favorite meal. he’s lovely, he’s the best man in the world. they could’ve called him a coward, but is it the correct term for a man who doesn’t fear the army and goes against it to finally live with his caring, precious housewife, who he loves so much?

you dance around the small kitchen, which also is your bedroom and living room. your dress, polka dotted, wave around your curves. you whisper the finnish song lyrics with the accuracy of a fluent speaker and the man next to you laughs, yet not as carefree as you do. he kisses you. tastes like tomato sauce. he puts the pizzas on the oven; your arms never leave his waist, holding onto him like he could disappear at any moment. then the food is cooking and you have all of his attention on you.

it doesn’t take so long until the dress is unbuttoned; his shirt is on the floor. he kisses you once more, less like a gentleman, this time. he’s always been good at making you feel like a dirty slut with just his tongue touching yours—you whine, you cry his name, you smile. satisfaction could never grow wider inside your soul. you grab his short hair, fingers on his nape. the wall behind you is soft. his touch is rough, though. instead of taking his time to undo your bra properly, he makes sure you can feel his fingers on your chest even over the fabric. you breathe in when he presses his knees between your thighs. symphony of destruction starts to play and you’re whispering the lyrics as you rub your core against the rude fabric of his trousers. your mouth never shuts. a harmony of moans leaves your mouth although his thumb presses your tongue. shut up, he says. his eyes are so tough; the way he flexes the muscles of his thigh so you’re able feel him better is insane. he’s mad. you notice it in a couple seconds, right before closing your eyes and start to beg.

levels above your head, the ruins of a building fall to the right. so close that you can hear something. chaotic sounds enter the booth and it’s not bothering you at all. fuck whatever is happening outside. your man is grabbing you ass, ripping your panties apart, telling you not to be a tease as he gets on his knees for a prayer. our father who art in heaven, a girl sees his lover in tears, and falls. hallowed be thy name, the man in front of you puts your thigh on his shoulder and kisses your clit. oh god, help me is the whisper of another orphan child, but also the whine you say when his index and middle fingers enter your wet cunt. you know these are the ones he’s using because they feel so good; you could cum in a couple minutes if he continues to harass your sensitive spots with no mercy.

when one more boy sees his father dead, you’re being manhandled to your bed, no tenderness on his hands as he spread your legs and fuck his dick into you all at once. feels good, feels awesome. the loud noise of the helicopter landing next to your neighborhood scares you just enough to make your body tense; your cunt squeezing his cock so hard he even says something about loving you. there’s someone in the entrance of your bunker saying some desperate words and you try not to care about it. your man just said he loves you. this time it must be truth, right? but then the person outside keeps saying your name, knocking like’s the door of salvation. you beg. more. more of his slow but strong, painful thrusts inside you. more of his hands on your waist, marking you as his property. more of him, more of him, more of him. you can’t let the world outside enter your peaceful place; you’re going to die if you remember that above you people are dying, one after one, as you get railed for that deserter. choke me. make me pass out. you don’t want to hear this girl’s voice again. the man fucks you senseless; you feel your breath being cut, sight darkening as you wished. but the last thing you think before drowning into the void is what the girl knocking was saying.

wake up.

#aot smut #snk smut #snk x reader #aot x reader #snk x you #attack on titan x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x reader #erwin x reader #[ erwinscrybaby ]

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cosplayproblemsposts · 3 years

Text

Polkadot man x Male reader. Pt 1

Warning- fluff

Summary: Male reader is an old veteran that fought in world war two but he is a time traveler who jumps throughout time believing he’ll find his old long term friend. Sadly finding out the truth doesn’t help the matter, adventurous behavior and the thrill of the hunt drove you to continue only to end up the in prison with the highest kill count. Along the way you met Abner krill or also known as the polka-dot man, he oddly sparks your interest the moment he opened his mouth.

Being an old time traveler who grew up in the great depression era and the rain of Adolf Hitler has its pro’s and con’s. You learnt discipline pretty quickly in the mixture of picking fights and lectures including pain in the neck ragging from your grandfather.

You remembered the last conversation you had with your grandfather before being sent off to join the rest of the UK military. “Okay boy don’t end up as the rest of the belly ups here okay” you nod as your grandfather lays a stern but caring hand on your right shoulder. “Don’t come home broken for that isn’t you, for that is not my grandson” you smiled for your grandfather loves to remind you of your worth. “I know pop, I’ll come back as a much better man” the old crow smiles “You better or i’m gonna give you a knuckle sandwich”.

By 1939 August the 18th you were sent to train for the air force and train you did but every solider fell sick suddenly. Every train air force member had to be vaccinated including you but you had itch that it wasn’t a normal vaccine.

You were 18 moving onto 19 when your itch had been proven right. You were bolting through the air in FAA (Fairy fulmar) - your a fleet fighter. You flew high up in the sky with a German air force hot riding on your tail. You gripped the wheel and tried to shake him off so you’ll be able to strike him back.

Sadly with all your advantages didn’t work for you were wiped out of the sky spiraling to the earthly soil. You knew you weren’t gonna make it out of this nor are you able to see your long term friend Benjamin. In a desperate attempted you tried to at least crash land with a few limbs attach. With a desperate desire that seemed to be a dream came to an end with an enemy pilot came colliding into you.

Instead of being met with death you found yourself alive two days before the whole entire event. You bolted upward to only find yourself scared and surprised, Benjamin came swooped and smack your back. Benjamin coals a childhood friend who took the bottom bunk. “Geez you look like a ghost” two days before Benjamin had been sent to Poland before you were rushed out of the sky.

But that was years ago while you were here sitting with Rick flag speaking to the head of the freedom fighters. You didn’t mind sharing a decent cup of tea with a fellow fighter who has different perspectives but is still somewhat of a good person. Sol Soria and Rick spoke happily while you sat fidgeting with your dog tags with a little frown.

“So he looks psychical 21 while his really 56″ Sol says while Rick confirms his information about you. All sudden the curtain had been swiped open to reveal four people. One female and three males Sol goes on about how her men didn’t alert her about their arrival. But the main three including an odd looking rat tumbled off that they didn’t see anyone.

Once their little rant came to a end the man dressed in a polka-dot costume piped up “I turned them into my mother in my head and killed them”. Those words made you snicker the moment you heard them. “Y/N!” Ricks head snaps to you in sync when this shark like creature cough up a finger with a ring still intact onto the table.

“Typical Americans, just run in guns blazing” Sol spoke in a angered tone while rick tried to reason with her. “The last time I check I’m nowhere near American” you pointed out with your British accent showing through.

Sol gives you a frown when you stood beside her “is that rat waving at me” you notice and waved back. “It appears it is” Sol looks at Rick “Why?” Rick replies with “ I’m going to guess because it’s friendly”. You looked around at Sol’s dead freedom fighters with a frown. “Y/N go back in time and prevent this” you twirled your attention to Sol.

“Pardon?” she places a hand on her hip and said “You heard me, go back in time and prevent this from ever happening”. You sighed for you knew there is always three outcomes “Sorry doll but no”. “What, why not it’s one of the most easiest things in the world for you” you gave her a ‘are you stupid or what’ look. “I can’t for there is always three possibilities and this seems to be the safes” she frowns. “That’s only if you want rick dead or your camp set on fire be my guest” she groans and mutters “Americans”.

You slugged your reasonable sized bag over your shoulders and made your way to ricks side. A few miles into the hike Abner fell and met the soil from below and Cleo is a exhausted. “C’mon keep up if we want to meet one of my men” Sol pitches. But you knew how it felt hiking without rest so you can understand where Cleo and Abner’s coming from.

“We’re just tired” Cleo clears while Abner seem to have this so called rash kicking in. “Sadly we need to keep moving, I’ll be in the back with you two okay” Cleo smiles while Abner awkwardly made eye contact with you but broke it. When we’re about to continue Christoper aka peacemaker shoves Abner back. “Oi don’t shoves dots” Chris glares down at you while Abner seems far to awkward to defend himself.

“We need to find out what the fuck is that” Chris points at Abner as if his a thing and not a person. “It’s just a rash” Abner took a step forward but Chris shoved him again to which caused you to glare at him. “Hey Norman bates, if that shits contagious. we need to know” you shove Chris but rick stops you from doing anything else.

“It’s not” Chris glares at you before saying “What is it?” Abner frowns a little before saying. “It ‘s an interdenominational virus”. You clicked on what his talking about while Chris still seemed confused ‘idiot’ you thought. “Fuck is that?” Abner seem to prepare himself to speak so he did.

“My mother was a scientist at STAR labs, and she was obsessed with turning me and my brothers and sisters into superheros. She infected me, now if I don’t. You know, expel the dots twice a day..”

“Then what?” Robert travels off Abner replies without hesitation or a second though “They’ll eat me alive”. He spoke with a little laugh at the end and you felt nothing but physical empathy for him. “What happened to your brothers and sisters?” rick asks “Some lived and some died” you frown. “And your mother where is she” Abner looks at everyone “everywhere”. Shockley he only saw you a short but muscular you.

“So you Cleo give me Hufflepuff feels” Cleo smiles “Aw thank you”. “Abner you have Gryffindor feel to me” Chris burst out laughing while we continued to hike. “He doesn’t belong to any Hogwarts house” you frowned before saying “I deem it unwise to eavesdrop toilet bowl”. Chris glares as Cleo giggles while Abner smiles at you for you were willing to defend him.

“You are a Gryffindor Abner, for you were brave enough to go through such hard ships, you just need time to realize that your brave”. Sebastian squeezes in agreement to which cause you to smile “It only take time and time is what I specialize in”.

Once it was the dead of night when you arrived to your location, you saw a bus and guards. Within a heartbeat you teleport to a guard like solider and rippled a bullet through the back of his head. “Num Num” Nanaue says before wolfing down a solider. Nanaue burps in you faces and his breathe smelt awful “At least say excuse me chrome dome”. Nanaue made a noise that sounds like an excuse me “Close enough”.

“There are clothes in the boxes for all of you, so you can blend in. That said the walking triburon is going to stay out of sight” Sol says while shoving a brown leather jacket in your hands. “I wear disguise” Cleo smiles “oh you’re going to wear a disguise?” Nanaue nods. “Si’ Chris had to make a comment “Hey. he’s learning Spanish” you roll your eyes. Pulling down a brand new navy blue T-shirt over your head while huffing at Chris but you looked to your right to see Abner staring.

Abner quickly dashed his eyes elsewhere but you made your way to him “Hey you need help buttoning up your shirt?”. Abner seem to have been struggling seeing that he could only focus on whats ever swimming in his head. He hums so you button up the rest of the buttons slowly “How are you Abner?”. “I’m fine but it could of been better” you frowned “and why is that?”. Abner sighs “I never thought I’ll be here of all places” you nod.

“True, I myself have been part of the original suicide squad” Abner looks down at you. “How was it?” you hum while buttoning up the last three buttons “I don’t really know for some of it’s a blur”. You lied through your teeth it just your still hoping Benjamin is still out there some where. “Other then that I remembered I was drinking old Irish whisky” Abner nods while you grin up at him.

“Welp now look at you Abner aren’t you a dreamboat” Abner cheeks turn a tent of pink. “Thank you Y/N” you smile “You’ll definitely be a catch to all them boards” Abner seem to shuffle at your last comment. “Huh, what is it” Abner stares at my combat bots “Oh nothing” and that’s when you realized. “Oh I’m sorry Abner I just assumed” Abner reconnected his eye contact with you. “No that’s okay” you gave him a little wink “I guess that can make the two of us”. Abner cheeks blossomed into a red tomato “Oh C’mon on you two love birds hurry up”.

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Welp I hoped you enjoy part 1 and I’ll love you to stick around part two.

#Polka-dot man x male reader #the suicide squad x male reader #david dastmalchian #the suicide squad #the suicide squad x reader

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