#but then i realized i’d have to figure out all the way the fabric would fold and i am LAZY

[happilysmythe]

❥ 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 5.0k

warning: explicit content

"can you blow my mind?" — tyla

A/N: i recently received a request for trent and a leafs fan. i was given creative freedom and this is what i came up with. hope you like it, nonny <3

- - -

Bruins win Game 7 in OT.

The headlines came out at a rapid rate, informing the rest of the world that the Boston Bruins made it out of the first round and turned the Toronto Maple Leafs into mulch. Again.

Trent Frederic, along with a few teammates, were on too much of a high to return to their rooms at the hotel they’d been staying in just yet. Though they were home in Boston, coach Jim Montgomery thought it would be smarter to have the guys stay in a hotel instead of going back to their homes and apartments. Team bonding, he said.

The bunch set off for the bar inside the hotel, only a few blocks away from TD Garden, waiting a few hours before slipping in nonchalantly. They weren’t trying to get outed too fast, and they usually didn’t. Even once they were recognized, not much came of it. Most people were too drunk by then to make a scene, anyway.

So they sat down at the bar and ordered a few beers, celebrating accordingly and talking amongst themselves. They would finally let loose for just a night before the inevitable start of round 2 in just two days. They’d be having practice the next morning and flying down to Sunrise, Florida to face the Panthers, who were on their extensive break after knocking the Lightning in just 5 games.

Trent decided he’d had enough after his fourth beer, so he left his share and stood up to make his way out. As he turned around, his body hit something with a thud. He looked down and saw what it was that he came into contact with; a thin blonde woman with her arms out, jaw slack, and an empty hand that once held her drink.

Oh, and a Maple Leafs jersey.

“Oh, shit,” Trent muttered, compressing his lips.

You scoffed, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can get you a new one.”

You looked up, a look of guilt on your face as your hands fell back down to your sides. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going, too—”

You paused.

“Where do I know you?”

He remained silent, shooting you a look as if to tell you that it should be obvious. It wasn’t long before your face dropped and it hit you. He suppressed a grin at your realization and parted his lips to speak.

“Name’s Trent,” he spoke smoothly, “but something tells me you already figured that out.”

“Well, you’re one of the last people I’d like to see right now,” you rolled your eyes, arms folded. “What’s a guy like you doing at some random bar at,” you looked at your watch, “12 in the morning after the game where you just knocked my team out of the playoffs?”

“Had to celebrate somehow,” he winked.

“Oh, god,” you grimaced. “I really do hate you guys.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine,” he laughed, putting his abnormally large hands on his hips. Your eyes subtly followed their path.

“Lighten up,” he teased. “C’mon. What’s your name? I know you’re not a,” he pinched the fabric of your jersey and pulled it to see the numbers, “Marner. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

You sighed at his remark and told him your name, but he made a face afterward.

“Too long.”

“Too long?”

“I think I’ll stick to Marner,” he told you, much to your dismay.

“Gross,” you replied irritatedly. “I don’t particularly feel like giving you the privilege of using a nickname. Just use my real name like everyone else. ”

“I’m all set, actually. I think I’ll stick to mine.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You gonna let me buy your drink or keep bitching about who I am?”

“Fine,” you sighed, “buy me the damn drink.”

He and you made your way to the other side of the bar, far enough away from the rest of the guys and the few friends you went with that you wouldn’t be noticed. You sat next to each other on the bar stools, Trent talking your ear off and you reluctantly replying with mostly one-word responses.

“You can’t be that angry with me,” he finally spoke, breaking another silence. “I’m not the whole team, you know.”

“I can and I will,” you shrugged, sipping your almost-empty drink.

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll just have to make you talk.”

He put his elbows down on the table and turned his head to face you, “Why’d you decide to come out in public after that game? I wouldn’t have even bothered to show my face in a bar wearing that. You here with other people or something?”

“I came with a couple of friends.”

“Doesn’t answer my first question.”

You looked down. “They wanted to come down here. I told them it was probably a bad idea because of the fact that we’re, you know, Leafs fans. They did it anyway so I just tagged along.”

“Bet you didn’t expect to run into me,” he nudged you with his shoulder, bringing a faint smile to your lips. “There you go,” he teased when he noticed your expression. “See? I’m not so bad.”

“Fraternizing with the enemy is a bad look for a woman like me,” you retorted, a playful undertone to your words. It was uncharacteristic compared to the closed-off manner you had with every other response. You wouldn’t admit that, however.

“Oh, she jokes,” he took the final sip of the drink he’d bought himself upon sitting with you, even after deciding he’d had his last beforehand.

“Shut up, Frederic.”

“We’ve regressed to my last name now? Can’t even call me by my first?”

“But you won’t use mine at all,” you rolled your eyes, “Trent.”

You looked at him for maybe a tad longer than you should’ve, eyes slowly moving down his body. He wore a white collared shirt that hugged his arms and gray dress pants that looked awfully tight around his thighs. You couldn’t help but notice the facial hair he’d grown since the start of the round, giving him a gingery mustache with a somewhat patchy beard. You’d seen what he looked like before that and were undoubtedly intrigued by it, regardless of whatever grudges you held against him. But you couldn’t let him know that.

So you turned to face the television above the bar, watching the commercial in a quiet trance as if nothing happened.

“Hey,” he tapped his finger on the bartop, diverting your attention back to him. “Tell me something,” he softly requested as you looked back, adjusting his body to face yours. “Why did you let me buy you the new drink if you weren’t going to talk to me, hm?”

You swallowed, “I wasn’t going to be rude.”

“The real reason,” he pressed.

“There is no real reason.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “so why were you staring at me before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lowered his voice and brought his face just slightly closer, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I mean,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “unless I didn’t see you looking for a while there. But I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.”

“Just…just shut up, Trent, alright?”

“Sounds like I hit a nerve,” he noted and you rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re cute when you’re irritable.”

His grin widened when you shook your head again, promptly informing him of how annoying he was once again. “But if I’m really being honest here,” he lifted his fingers and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think you’re pretty.”

At this, your hardened exterior softened. Your head turned just slightly so that he was in your field of view and you sighed gently. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“I, um,” you cleared your throat, taking a breath, “I was looking before.”

“I know,” he softly responded, hand slipping down until his palm rested on your thigh. Initially, you flinched at the contact, but your muscles relaxed when you realized it was a warm gesture rather than one with malicious intent.

“You don’t have to be so cold,” he told you. “No matter who I play for, I’m just a guy.”

You were more attracted to him than you wanted to let on, and it surely didn’t help that he was being nicer to you. You suppressed a smile and faced him fully.

“It’s not that, it’s—it’s the point,” you flatly responded.

“You can look at me again,” he teased, thumb rubbing your thigh. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Your gaze lingered on him again, eyes flitting down to his lips before you looked away. It wasn’t hard for him to see through you—after all, you allowed him to keep his hand where it was, even after refuting his words. He took notice of your wandering eyes and finally pieced it together.

“Like the new look, eh?”

Your brows furrowed and you swallowed, “What new look…?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he replied with certainty. “You have a thing for the scruff?”

“Please. I don’t even know what you looked like before that,” you lied, taking an unsteady breath.

“Doesn’t change that you were looking at it, does it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, lips parted as you tried to think up an excuse. “No,” you finally gave up, letting your head hang down. “It doesn’t, because I have seen you before and I do have a thing for it. For you,” you shook your head, laughing at the reality of how weak you truly were. How stupid you must have looked to him. “So tease me all you want, say that you told me so—you’re right.”

A ringed finger slipped under your chin and tilted your head toward him, his face mere inches away from yours.

“I’m not going to tease you.”

You swallowed, expression falling as your eyes locked with his. They were brown, you noticed. And they were…warm. They largely contrasted how he looked at you previously. It brought you to an entranced sort of state.

His touch was soft, comforting. But in a way that made you want him more. Caused your mind to wander to places you knew it shouldn’t have gone. It felt good. Really good.

And you had no business wondering what the rest of him would feel like on you.

“Where are you staying?” you blurted out.

“Upstairs.”

“Take me,” the words left your mouth before you could protest.

An eyebrow raised and his grin turned to a smile. “Gladly,” he whispered, lowering his hand and standing up.

He held his hand out and you hesitantly took it, allowing him to discreetly walk you toward the exit of the bar. You ducked when you saw your friends, praying that by some miracle they didn’t see you walk out with Trent Frederic.

“Trent,” you whispered, clutching onto him harder now that you couldn’t be hidden by the darkness of the bar any longer. “What if someone saw?”

“You would’ve known by now. Trust me,” he reassured you as the elevator doors slid open. You walked in and the doors shut, enclosing you in the small space. “And if anyone did,” he started, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck, “it’s none of their business, anyway.”

“Mhm,” you agreed softly, eyes beginning to close when you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“See? Not so hard to agree, is it?”

“Mm…no…”

He laughed softly in your ear and pressed a tiny kiss to the skin behind it. He intricately placed a few more on the exposed skin, prompting a faint hum from your lips as the doors slid back open. His hand found its place on your waist as he gently pushed you out, guiding you down the hallway and finally stopping in front of his door.

By now, you’d become urgent—urgent to feel his lips on yours no matter how much you told yourself it was a stupid idea. You lived in Toronto; a whopping 500 miles away. And he played for Boston, the team you hated with a passion so strong that you vowed to never let yourself be endeared by them. Yet there you were, standing next to the forward who contributed to your favorite team’s loss, wanting nothing more than for him to make you feel oh, so good.

And he would.

The door clicked open and he pushed the lever down, stepping aside to let you in. He was quick to pin you to the door with his body, arm coming up behind your head to lock it and toss the room card to the side.

“I can’t believe I let you charm me.”

“What can I say,” he rasped, leaning in closer, “I know how to get a girl in my room.”

His lips finally connected with yours and you immediately reciprocated, hand flattening against his chest and gripping the material of his shirt. You pulled him closer, slipping your free hand around his neck before tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The hair above his lips rubbed against your skin, the feeling eliciting a faint hum from your mouth into his. He grinned at this and hooked his fingers under the blue jersey you wore, pulling away promptly and carefully lifting it up.

“Taking this shit off,” he mumbled, pulling the fabric over your head and discarding it to the floor. “You’d look much better with mine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not going to happen, Trent.”

“We’ll see,” he grinned, moving his lips to your neck and marking up the skin, drawing whimpers from your mouth.

Your hand snaked into his hair, fingers threading between the dusty ginger strands as you pushed his head closer. He kissed up to your jaw, sliding his hand up to your neck, the other placed on the bare skin of your hip. His fingers pressed into the nape of your neck and his thumb rested just under your chin, hand pressing the back of your head against the door as his lips kissed a path down your jawline.

“Shit,” you moaned breathily, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as his mouth returned to yours hungrily.

You worked your way down, the material of his shirt parting and exposing his skin as each button fell open. His tongue slipped between your lips, grazing your teeth before rolling over yours languidly. Soft fingers untucked his open shirt from his pants and began to trace his stomach, moving slowly up to his firm chest. The action caused the large hand around your neck to tighten its hold, prying a moan from your throat.

“Didn’t know,” you panted, “—didn’t know you wore a chain.”

“Like it, mm?”

The way he grinned down at you brought a lump to your throat. He made you nervous. Weak, even. And the height at which he stood compared to you surely didn’t help. So you nodded curtly in response, hoping he’d take the hint and not press you further.

But he took it and instead removed his hand from your neck to slide it down and meet the other at your lower back, promptly hoisting you up. Your hands moved to his face and held it while you continued to kiss him, him walking the two of you away from the door and in the direction of the bed. You kicked your shoes off just as he grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall outside the bathroom and laid it lazily atop the sheets. He then lowered you onto your back and let go, allowing you to lie comfortably on the bed as he remained on his knees in front of you.

He quickly shed himself of the torn-open shirt and tossed it toward the empty bed on the other side of the room. His body soon hovered over yours, an arm on the bed on each side of your head as he kissed you again. His lips moved to your neck once again, working the skin until soft moans slipped through your parted ones.

“Trent,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling deeply, “isn’t…isn’t someone else staying here with you? There’s—mm—two beds.”

“There was,” he mumbled into your skin, moving down to your collarbones.

“So couldn’t we get—”

“Was,” he repeated. “He already went home to his girlfriend. And I have both room keys.” He chuckled softly and reached around your back to unclasp your bra, the fabric coming loose on your chest. “So relax.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for him to pull it off, him letting it fall from his hand before kissing a path down the valley of your chest. His body moved down as he continued down to your stomach, then to your waist where his fingers hooked in your pants and slid them down your legs.

You kicked them off and opened your legs, allowing Trent to slip between them. He gently kissed your inner thigh, slowly working his way up until he reached the lacy fabric that covered your skin. He looked up, making and not breaking eye contact with you as he took the waistband between his teeth and tugged the fabric slowly down your legs. As he rose upwards, they and your pants were dropped to the floor.

Warm breath fanned the skin between your aching thighs, awaiting his touch oh, so impatiently. His fingers brushed the area, dragging themselves slowly up and down. His eyes flitted up to you, a faint grin playing on his lips before focusing back down.

“God, you’re wet,” he rasped, leaning down and settling his face between your thighs, your legs atop his shoulders. His hands wrapped around your outer thighs and gripped them, pulling you in promptly.

“Especially for someone who claims to hate me so much.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, “Think that’ll make me like you any more?”

“No, but maybe this will.”

With that, his mouth wrapped around your clit, tongue swirling around and eliciting a gasp of shock from your parted lips. Your eyes widened as he sucked gently, hands kneading the warm flesh of your thighs.

He then trailed downward, planting small, light kisses on the sensitive flesh, all before his tongue carefully parted your folds and delved slowly inside. Your fingers gingerly threaded into his strands, palm flattening itself on the back of his head as you pushed him down, your body weak with the need for more friction.

The hair that had recently grown above his lips brushed against your skin, rubbing back and forth forcefully and bringing meaning to the term, ‘hurts so good.’

“God, fuck,” you groaned, hands tenaciously gripping the sheets and his curls as his tongue moved in a rhythm that was just enough to make you long for more.

He lapped at you mercilessly, expert movements of his tongue coaxing soft moans from your mouth. A cocky grin stretched across his lips as he brought you to the brink, then pulled away, forcing a whimper from you at the loss of contact.

A large hand was removed from your thigh and brought between your legs, knuckles once again dragging lazily along the sensitive, needy skin, but refusing to give you the satisfaction of doing what you wanted most. He was teasing you; punishing you for the way in which you treated him earlier without giving him as much as a chance to prove himself.

“Trent,” you whined impatiently, hips writhing involuntarily against his bearded face.

“Mm…what?”

You refused to admit the irrevocable attraction you had to him because you didn’t want to let him win. And now he was being a bitch to you, just like you were to him. He chuckled softly and pressed the tip of his finger to your entrance, allowing you to feel the small bit of pressure that came with it. 

“Please,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his curls.

Enough was enough and he pushed the finger in, drawing a moan from your lips before adding another and thrusting them in and out with no room for complaint. The cold metal of his ring brushed against your sensitive inner walls and you gasped at the initial contact, your rampant mind having forgotten about the jewelry to begin with. And deep down, you loved it.

His mouth returned to your skin, tongue licking small stripes on the mound of flesh above his fingers, the scruff on his chin rubbing roughly against it. You knew you were going to have burns on your skin caused by his facial hair but you didn’t care; you just wanted to keep feeling him.

“Trent, don’t stop.”

He laughed quietly and sped up the pace of his fingers, urging you even closer to the edge. Your thighs closed in around his head, hand still pushing his head down. He hummed in satisfaction, the noise vibrating against your skin as he felt you clench around his long fingers.

His lips sucked on your clit in a steady pattern, causing your release to rip through you, prying a moan from deep within your stomach. You fisted the sheets tighter as your hips writhed against his face and fingers, legs beginning to shake from the pressure. Trent continued to work you through it, tongue lapping up the wetness that accumulated until you sunk back down into the mattress, spent.

Slowly he removed his fingers, first bringing them to his lips to lick them clean before rising back up. You inched backward on the bed until your head pressed against the pillow, Trent following and planting himself on his knees between your legs. His fingers reached down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, eyes never leaving your body in the process. It wasn’t long before his belt haphazardly hit the floor, then his pants and his painfully hard cock was freed from its constraints. A rough palm placed itself on your knee, rubbing it slowly.

“Trent,” you swallowed, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Con—”

He raised his hand to cut you off, a gold wrapper resting comfortably between his index and middle fingers. The action having rendered you silent, he promptly took the foil between his teeth and pulled, spitting out the excess before taking out the latex and rolling it onto himself. You soon felt the pressure of him at your entrance, legs subconsciously widening to let him slip between them further, then heard the sound of him groaning as he pushed into you.

You swore it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

He leaned forward slowly, giving you just a moment’s time to adjust to his size as he stretched you out. Your breaths were unsteady, eyes screwed shut as your fingers maintained their forceful grip on the sheets around you. Your mind was racing, but you knew one thing for certain—the man was about to fucking blow it. His body hovered above yours as he kissed a path from your stomach up to your neck, hands pressing into the mattress on each side of you.

“Where did you,” you breathed, “get that?”

“Pocket,” he rasped, mustache brushing against your neck.

Eyes wide, you responded, “That’s not—”

“Relax,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “I put it in there today.”

Then you impatiently lifted a hand to the back of his head and pushed his lips onto yours, kissing him urgently and wordlessly telling him to just move. He obeyed your silent command and pushed his hips into yours, burying his dick into you before pulling back, leaving only the tip inside. He repeated the process at a steady, slow rhythm—tortuously slow, at that—until your back was arching, hand in his hair sliding down to his shoulder blade as the long, coffin-shaped nails dug into his soft skin. The chain that you’d noticed earlier tapped against your cheek, the feeling provoking you to throw your head back against the pillow.

His hand slid up your front, fingers curling around to the nape of your neck and thumb resting under your chin once again, pulling your head back up as he quickened his pace, driving into you with more force. Every inch of his thick cock slid smoothly along your velvety walls, your mouth frozen in its open state as his lips worked at your neck again. And god, you just couldn’t understand what made you hate that guy in the first place. It must have slipped your mind completely.

Upon the first thrust of his hips, he felt just how tight you enveloped him. The immense pressure of you wrapped around his strained length, practically squeezing it. The age-old trick of conjuring up the most repulsive of thoughts seemed nothing but moronic to him in the past, yet for some reason he found himself naming off presidents in his head to prevent from coming so fucking soon. He only wished that he could feel it; really feel it, if it weren’t for that godforsaken rubber that separated him from you.

And he’d make it his mission to do so, whether you lived five hundred miles away or not.

He just hoped he’d last when he finally did.

The hand around your throat closed just slightly, using just enough pressure to threaten your intake of breath without causing any pain. It was delicious. You didn’t have the will to fight it—your body had already submitted to him long before, and there wasn’t much that you could focus on other than the feeling of him roughly thrusting into you, lips marking up one side of your neck while his hand firmly gripped the other.

The sounds of your mixed moans bounced off of the walls and you began to wonder whether anyone could hear it or not; if any of his teammates were close by, walking back to their rooms from the bar. The thought instilled enough fear for you to weakly voice it.

“What if—ah—what if someone hears us?”

“Let them,” he rasped, kissing behind your ear.

“But—”

“God, shut up,” he pushed his lips to yours, swallowing your words, moans, and expletives that threatened to destroy your mediocre attempt to stay quiet. His tongue rolled over yours, low hums reverberating in your mouth and filling your ears.

Finally, he released his hold from your neck, allowing the air to flow smoothly into your lungs once more. The hand reached for yours, roughly threading his fingers between yours before pushing the two forward and pinning the back of your hand to the headboard behind you. You let out a whimper at the sudden contact but quickly gripped his hand with a matching force to his as he hit the sweet spot inside you and a familiar pit in your stomach formed.

“Close,” you panted, back arching off of the bed and forcing your front to press firmly into his.

“I know,” he told you, grip tightening as the taut line in your stomach snapped.

His mouth enveloped yours again to swallow your noises, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Your inner walls constricted around his length as you hit your climax, nails digging into his back as you grasped desperately at him for stability, support—any sort of strength that he could provide you with. And he did, grunting sporadically as he fucked you through your second orgasm, thrusts growing sloppier.

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside you, hitting his own peak and letting out a deep moan. Your name—to your surprise—left his lips in a slurred form, repeating it softly as if it were a hymn. Sweat coated your forehead, droplets dripping slowly down your face, and the frontward strands of your hair had grown wet. His curls dripped with his own sweat as his lips hovered just centimeters above yours, warm breath fanning your face and gaze aligning with yours.

You finally swallowed, “Wow.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, hand letting go of yours and gently running up and down your side.

He waited a moment and carefully pulled out, the action drawing your eyes shut before he slipped off the used latex and disposed of it. You adjusted yourself as he did so, ridding the bed of the towel and briefly cleaning yourself up before you felt a piece of fabric hit your arm. You looked down to see a large, black t-shirt on the bed and grabbed it, quickly slipping it on as he walked back over. He motioned you under the sheets and you silently obliged.

Your back pressed against his chest, chain pressing into the skin as an arm wrapped around you and a hand flattened on your stomach. His other fingers pushed your hair to the side, exposing the skin to his eyes, and he saw the faint marks his fingers left on your neck. A pair of lips brushed against your ear and the soft rasp of his voice returned.

“You know, that’s a Bruins shirt,” he teased, scruff grazing your damp skin as his lips connected with your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you flatly responded.

“Going against your word pretty fast, eh?”

“Yeah, well,” you started, nuzzling back into him. “I told you I hated you and ended up in your bed, so,” you turned to him slightly, “unreliable source.”

He chuckled softly and brought his fingers up to brush your hair back, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Night, Marner.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and he laughed one final time before closing his eyes and relaxing into you.

So, against everything that you stood for just hours before, you fell asleep in Trent Frederic’s arms without much forethought. In his shirt and his bed, effectively leaving your friends behind because they’d for some odd reason just slipped your mind completely.

And when Trent woke up the next morning, he was no longer in your company, much to his dismay. Any trace of your presence the night before had perished, down to the towel on the floor. But there was one thing—one saving grace that caught his eye as he scanned the room.

A piece of paper on the nightstand with a phone number scribbled on it and a small note below it that read,

“For the next time you’re in Toronto.”

#trent frederic #boston bruins #fanfic #hockey #trent frederic fic #boston bruins imagine #hockey fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader #toronto maple leafs #t. frederic

[kalofi]

back on da zolu grind yuurrr

#bare chest #partial nudity #hopefully i dont get nerfed for that. ANYWAY #one piece #art #zolu #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #look ok i was gonna give luffy clothes in that second one i swear. #but then i realized i’d have to figure out all the way the fabric would fold and i am LAZY #so he just gets a loincloth LOOOLLLL

[navybrat817]

Any chance we can see Winter and Kisa? 🥺

I owe them a proper one-shot, nonnie, but I may have a little something to hold you over.

Almost Like Home

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky told you his place would be your home one day. You see it firsthand with his closet.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Tension, longing, pet names, possessive behavior, slight obsessive behavior, conflicted reader, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Winter and Kisa. That okay, lovelies? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo . Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Arguing with Bucky to let you go back to your place was pointless today and you were too exhausted to try. Being sleepy was how you justified following him to his bedroom, your footsteps gently echoing in the hall. You took in your surroundings and tried to reason that it was out of curiosity and to stay alert, not because this would be your home one day. Even if he said it would be.

You’d take a quick nap and be on your way, right?

“You sure I can't carry you in?” Bucky offered as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall, sneaking a glance at you over your shoulder.

He trusted you enough to have his back to you.

“Don’t you dare,” you said without a hint of malice, biting your lip when he smiled and opened the door to let you go in.

“Worth a shot.”

The rays from the sunset seeped in through the window curtain before Bucky turned the light on. The bedroom was beautiful, as expected, with a king-sized bed, a chair near the balcony, and a fireplace. You imagined him sitting and reading after a long day. But the vanity didn't appear to be his style at all.

It looked like something that belonged in your room.

Bucky didn't attempt to move toward you as you met his all-consuming gaze, which somehow made the tension grow. It would’ve been easy to drag him to his bed or let him shove you down and make you his the way he claimed you were. But one taste wouldn't be enough for either of you.

“As much as I'd love to see you in my clothes,” he said to break the silence, gesturing to a door along the wall. “You might find something more to your liking in there on the right side.”

“I can't sleep in this?”

He dragged his lip along his teeth and shook his head. “The bastard who hit you may not have touched your clothes, but I’d sooner burn them before they touch my bed.”

“Possessive bastard,” you muttered, part of you liking it.

His watchful eyes followed as you crossed the room and opened the door, your mouth falling open as you looked around. The closet was larger than your apartment living room. To the left were suits, shoes, watches, and more that clearly belonged to the mobster. But to the right…

Your heart raced as you walked over and pushed through the clothes, something heavy settling in your stomach when you realized they were all your size. Not only that, they were designs and styles you wore and liked. Many of which you'd never be able to afford, let alone have the pleasure of feeling the fabric under your fingertips. You had long accepted that working for a living would never give you a life of luxury.

There weren't many times in life where you had the rug pulled out from under you, but this was something else entirely.

“What is this?” You whispered, turning toward Bucky as he strode through the door.

“Your closet. Well, our closet. You like it?” He answered, pride in his eyes as he glanced at your side. “I figured you could look at some of the shoes and jewelry after you get some rest. And you’ll love the lingerie almost as much as I will.”

You took a deep breath. And another. It did little to calm you down. “Bucky. I am not your girlfriend and I sure as hell don't live here, so why do you have half of your closet set aside for me?” You demanded.

Bucky lifted a shoulder, unbothered by the fury and touch of sadness that simmered in your eyes. “Girlfriend isn't really a title I want you to have. Wife and my queen, yes. Those will do. And you will live here, so I had to make sure you have clothes,” he said as his eyes bore into yours. “Though I don't mind if you'd rather walk around without wearing anything.”

Your face heated up as he stepped toward you and you wished you could ignore the throbbing between your legs. “You're delusional,” you stated.

He chuckled low, the sound sending more heat through your traitorous body. “No, Kisa. Not delusional. Prepared and excited, but not delusional.”

You scoffed, trying to cover up your arousal. Why did he put more into obtaining you than any other guy who crossed your path before? “Whatever you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night, Winter.”

“I'll sleep much better when you're beside me.”

The softness in his voice surprised you, like you sleeping beside him would bring him some sort of comfort as well as satisfaction. “You say that like it's a sure thing.”

Your stomach twisted in knots as he smirked, all confidence and swagger. “Oh, you and I both know I always end up getting what I want.”

But what if he stopped wanting you one day?

Your back was against the wall, nowhere to go as he took another step forward. “You can't have me.”

The words sounded empty and you both knew it. “And why is that?” He asked.

“Because I can't let you have me,” you answered, pausing as your gaze shifted away from him. You almost regretted the next words that slipped out of your mouth. “You cloud my judgment.”

The admission didn't lift the weight from your chest because it didn't change anything. At the end of the day, Bucky would continue to do terrible things and you wouldn't bring him to justice. You couldn't bring yourself to do so. Yet you brought others in.

How many times could you justify letting Bucky roam free because he had a heart beneath the surface?

You willed your knees to keep you upright when he rolled his sleeves up more and smugly smiled. “Is that so? Hmm, I like the idea that you can't think straight around me.”

You held up a hand when he moved closer, as if it would stop him. “Don't let it go to your head. My job comes first. You know that.”

He grasped your wrist and brought it to his mouth, his lips barely grazing your skin. The spark between you continued to ignite when his tongue darted out. “Well, if I had it my way you'd come first every single time.”

The breath left your lungs in a rush. “Bucky, please,” you whispered, hating how weak you sounded when his scruff touched your skin.

He hummed as he pressed his lips against your pulse. “That's one of the things I imagine you saying before you come.”

You didn't rip your hand away, enjoying the attention far more than you should have. “You're being ridiculous. You know we can't do this.”

“No, I don't know that. Though you keep saying we shouldn't,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over your head against the wall. His grip didn't hurt. You almost wished it did so you'd have more of a reason to fight. “Maybe you're the delusional one.”

“Maybe I am a little,” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “Because I've crossed the line enough by not bringing you in.”

Maybe your hands weren't as dirty as his, but they sure as hell weren't clean.

A sympathetic smile tugged at his lips. “Because you want me and want to be with me.”

His eyes traced along your face as your breathing got heavier. You didn't object or deny him. Doing so would be a lie and wasn't life clouded enough with too many of those? But to speak the truth would be to lose a part of yourself.

“It doesn't matter. When the chase ends, you’ll stop wanting me,” you said, his brows furrowing when your voice cracked.

Because the game would be over and why would he want to play again? How much of you would he take with him? What would be left in the wake of his victory?

His fingertips ran along your sore cheek and brushed away a tear that fell. “The chase will end because you’ll be by my side, but it doesn't stop there. I’m still going to court you and show you every day why I’m nothing without you.”

Tilting your head, he placed a tender kiss on your cheek. The same way he had in his den. Would it be so wrong to let him seduce you further? “But you have the world,” you whispered.

“You are my world,” he whispered back before he pulled away and released your hand, your body suddenly cold. Your breaths felt shallow as he ran a hand through his hair and he still hadn’t kissed your lips. He looked like he was restraining himself as well. “Those aren't just pretty words. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you, Kisa. Starting with the man who hurt you.”

The resolve in his eyes before he turned and walked away tugged at your heartstrings. “Don’t kill him. Please.”

He stopped in the doorway with a sigh, but didn't face you. “I told you I can't let it go,” he said, grunting as he flexed his fingers. “But I'll try not to kill him.”

You couldn't ask for more than that. “Thank you, Bucky,” you said sincerely, pushing yourself away from the wall. “But you really don't have to do anything to him in order to prove something to me.”

His blue eyes lit up with purpose when he looked back at you. “No one hurts someone I love and gets away with it,” he said, leaving you all alone with your thoughts.

Because what were you really afraid of?

That Bucky Barnes loved you or that you maybe loved him, too?

UGH. I love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes x agent!reader #winter and kisa #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes

[number1mingyustan]

- Cuffing Season-

His Needs

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, size kink, roleplay (ish?? not really), dom!gyu, mentions of porn, penetrative sex, explicit smut, mutliple orgasms, forced orgasms, multiple positions, spanking, squirting, grinding, she dresses up for him, this is flithy

Summary: He just has to get his way

Word Count: 2.3k

_______________________________________________

“There’s no way in hell I’m putting that on,” you roll your eyes.

“Baby please,” He looks at you with soft eyes.

“Mingyu this is ridiculous.” You scoff.

“I proved I would do anything for you the last time we fucked, I feel like it’s only fair you return the message.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You mean when you cried and called me ‘Mommy?’” You smirk.

“I did not call you that! And you said you wouldn’t bring that up again,” he groans.

“Oh baby…” You coo. “I’m never letting you forget that.”

“Can you just… put it on for me, please? I know you’ll look sexy,” he pleads.

“You’re so perverted Mingyu… I don’t know why you bought this in the first place thinking I’ll wear it.”

“Because I know you, and you’ll put it on for me because you love me and I’m horny. Baby please” He whines.

“This has got to be misogynistic in some way. I’m sure the feminists wouldn’t approve of this.”

“Baby… I just saw something like it online and I thought you would look good in it. Don’t scold me for wanting to be a little adventurous.”

“Have you been watching porn or something? I just don’t understand what prompted this” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “It’s been on my mind for a while.”

“So you’ve been watching porn.”

“Okay yes, maybe I’ve been watching porn,” He glares at you.

You look down at the outfit he’s displayed for you on the bed. There’s really no point in putting on, you know it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s ripping off what little fabric there is to begin with.

It’s a sexy maid costume he ordered online. He even paid extra for the quick shipping to get it here quicker.

“So what? We don’t have sex for like… 5 days and you start getting off on other women,” you fake disapproval.

He groans. “You know I only watch faceless porn… and I think about you the whole time. Don’t do that.”

“I’m only messing with you Gyu,” you grin and run your finger along the fabric.

“C’mon baby… I’m already half hard. I just wanna see you in it.”

You glance at him, taking note of the semi he’s sprouting in his sweatpants. “Mingyu you really are like a teenage boy,” you chuckle and pick up the costume and make your way toward the bathroom. You’ve teased him long enough.

His eyes light up with excitement and anticipation.

You close the bathroom door behind you and change out of your clothes and into the costume. “Gyu… if I come home and see some kind of sexy schoolgirl outfit, I’m gonna take half the company’s earnings and leave you.”

“I’m not that bad!” He calls from the bedroom. “You know… I think like the absolute most I would wanna see you in is like a… bunny girl senpai outfit. Like that’s all—holy shit–“

He cuts himself off when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t understand why you were being such a hater baby. It’s doing wonders for your tits right now.”

You smirk at him. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Come here.”

He’s quick to pull you onto his lap. He can’t stop himself from staring, you’re just too sexy. Much like his eyes, his hands are quick to wander your body.

You’re so tiny on his lap. Sitting with your legs parted between his.

After indulging himself in a few inappropriate touches, his hands move their way up your thighs and under your skirt. His breath stops in his throat when he realizes you took off your panties.

“No panties? Baby you’re really trying to kill me aren’t you?” He breathes out.

“Just figured I’d make it easy for you,” You smirk, lifting up your skirt more for him to see.

He tilts his head back with a groan. You’re so hot, he really might lose it. His hand slips between where your bodies meet and he palms himself slowly through his sweats with a soft moan.

It’s so lewd.

He’s literally touching himself with you seated on his lap and dressed in next to nothing. There’s already a small stain on his sweats leaking through.

“You really are just like a teenager Gyu. Nearly cumming before we’ve ever gotten started,” You tease.

“Don’t be a bitch Y/n,” He bites back. “I’ll fuck you until you wanna clean for me like a real maid.”

Ugh. As much as you loved dominating Mingyu, you’ll always love his dominant side more. You can’t help it, he’s so big and strong and he can’t stand not being in control. You’ll never be caught complaining about it.

His large hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you him for a rough kiss with no hesitation. It’s sloppy and needy, nothing out to the ordinary with him.

He pulls away, panting softly and licking his lips before reattaching his lips to your neck. He sucks on your skin, leaving dark hickies along your neck and the top of your breasts.

You start growing needy, grinding your bare bottom against the thing fabric of his sweatpants. He’s fully hard now, cock poking perfectly against your clit as you grind yourself down on him.

“Shit baby… you’re worse than me,” he chuckles lightly as he looks down at the large wet patch you’ve left on his sweatpants.

“Shut up.”

A harsh smack lands on your bare ass, causing you to hiss and arch your back, pushing your hips down onto him harder.

He’s so strong.

“You know better than to speak to me like that,” He clenched his jaw.

“ ‘M sorry..” You mumble.

“No you’re not.” He lifts you off his lap and flips you over with ease. He presses your back down, leaving your ass in the air for him. “But it’s okay… I’m gonna make you sorry.”

He pulls his cock out of his sweatpants and rubs it along your folds teasingly.

It’s torture.

You somehow ended up needier than him in a matter of minutes. You’re lying there dripping and unable to see what he’s doing to you. Your walls are fluttering in anticipation.

He can see it all. The way you’re desperately clenching around nothing while you wait for him to fill you up.

He wants to fuck you, but you caught another attitude with him.

You and your damn mouth.

You’ve always had a bit of an attitude problem. Mingyu thinks it’s kind sexy until you catch one with him in the bedroom. It’s one thing to see you catch some sass when you’re talking to someone else. But with him? He’d rather put your mouth to better use.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, giving you a false sense of satisfaction before withdrawing completely with a smirk plastered across his face.

He can’t see how annoyed you are, but he can hear the frustrated groan you let out. “Gyu…”

“Yes my love?” He grins.

“Don’t do this to me. I said I was sorry.”

“But you didn’t mean it.”

“I did!”

He does it again, putting in just the tip before pulling out of you completely. You whine.

He does it a third time, but you’re quicker. Before he can pull out, you slam your ass back, thrusting his length all the way into you.

“Fuck’s sake,” He groans. “You’re horrible Y/n.”

You’re too caught up in how good the stretch of his cock feels to even respond. He takes over, slamming his hips against your ass and thrusting into you harshly.

He holds your hips steady with his big hands, ramming his cock deep inside of you quickly. Your ass recoils with every thrust and he’s left mesmerized.

It’s not long before you feel yourself getting close. He pounds into you so good. His hand snakes between your thighs and his finger circles your clit. He needed to feel you cum around him.

He loves it so much. The way you tighten around him and how you always manage to get wetter.

His finger moves quicker, his thirsts never flattering in pace.

“Oh fuck Mingyu I’m so close,” You warn him.

He doesn’t stop when you cum. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly. You’re moaning and crying out his name but he doesn’t stop.

He gives you no time to recover from your state of bliss before he’s leaning over and pushing your head down deeper into the bed. Your back arches more and he can now pound you deeper.

Your hands grip the bedsheets tightly as he rams his cock deep inside of you.

“You feel so good” He moans.

It only takes a few moments before he’s driving you into another orgasm. This one is more intense than the first and your whole body goes numb for a second.

You’re sensitive and overstimulated. You figure this is karma for the way you put it on him last time.

“Gyu… I can’t take it” You whine into the bedsheets. Your voice is muffled, but he knows exactly what you said.

You let yourself believe he’s listening to you when he pulls out of you. For a moment, you’re relieved.

But then he flips you onto your back and fills you up again. “You can baby. Gosh you look so sexy right now… all dressed up for me and crying on my cock.”

You whine out in response.

He holds your legs wide open for him as he fucks himself into you. You’re already overstimulated and tears are starting you prickle the corners of your eyes.

It’s so intense but it feels so good. He fucks you roughly, treating you like a toy intended for his own pleasure.

“Ah-hah Gyu” You moan. “I really can’t…”

“You can baby” He grins as he continues thrusting his cock into you. “Give me one more darling.”

“Mmph- I can’t Gyu. I really can’t” You pant.

“There’s no such thing,” he smirks.

He takes advantage of the fact that you’re so sensitive. He begins thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, pinning your down so your legs stay wide open for him.

It’s so fucking good. His cock rams deep inside of you and his finger circles your clit once more. His pace makes you ache, the tip of his cock brushing deep inside of you, repeatedly hitting the one spot that makes you go mad.

It’s all too much, it happening too fast.

You don’t have time to fully process before he’s forcing another orgasm out of you. It’s so unfair but it’s so fucking good,

You cum so hard you don’t even realize you’re squirting until he pulls his cock out and watches the way you soak the sheets.

You cry out, eyes squeezed shut and the pleasure suffocates you. You feel dizzy and it takes longer for you to fully come down.

His cock is already inside of you again as your body spasms at the feeling of being full again. He pins you down to keep you from squirming.

“You’re making such a mess baby… some maid you are” He teases.

You’re breathing heavily and still trying to recover from the intensity. "Gyu.. I really can't anymore."

"Baby I didn't even get to cum yet," he pouts. "That wouldn't be fair now would it... you had what, three?" He sucks his teeth and continues thrusting into you slowly. "How selfish."

He's really showing no mercy.

Your pussy is already spent. You're still dripping, making it easier for him to slip in and out of you with low effort. His cock throbs and swells inside of you. He's getting close, thankfully.

"You'll let me cum won't you?" He asks. "You wanna let me really ruin this pussy don't you baby? Dressed up for me so pretty, making a mess everywhere. Don't pretend like you don't love it."

You whine.

"You were so confident earlier... that mouth of yours. Not much to say now huh?" he smirks, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

Mingyu himself is surprised he's held out this long. When you were on his lap he was nearly about to cum in his pants untouched. Seeing you like this, dressed up for him with your legs wide open after three orgasms, the sight alone could make him cum. You are just that hot... you have that effect over him.

But you pull another reaction out of him too. One that makes him never want to stop. He really can't help it. You make him want to keep going, he craves more constantly. He can never get enough of you no matter how much to satisfy him.

Your throat is starting to get sore from how much noise you've been making. You rasp out his name and it finally sends him over the edge. He tries to pull out, but you squeeze down on his cock purely out of reaction.

"Fuck," he groans.

Luckily he's stronger than you, so he manages to spill the rest of his load on your inner thighs.

It's a mess.

There's cum dripping out of you and down your thighs, the sheets are still soaked alongside his torso and the lower half of your outfit. Mingyu looks down with satisfaction written on his face.

"I put you in a maid outfit and you end up making an even bigger mess," he grins.

You're still exhausted, hardly able to respond to him. He lifts you up, helping you undress and running a bath to properly clean you up.

He takes the bedsheets and puts them into the washing machine, replacing them with fresh ones before joining you in the bathroom to clean up his mess. _______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

#seventeen smut #seventeen #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu drabbles #mingyu svt #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #kpop #cuffing season

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara.

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part ii.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, stalker!miguel, top!miguel, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, weak!male reader, sir!kink, thoughts of sex, masturbation, fingering, spying, kinda dubcon (?), heavily focused on sweat and smelly musk (hehe).

notes: say hi to my first miguel story! i couldn't stop thinking about him ever since I rewatched the movie, tbh.

—at first, miguel was rather reluctant to hire you for babysitting.

—your experience was almost non-existent, if it hadn’t been for that one time you babysat your nephew… eight years ago. of course, you left that part of information out.

—but miguel deemed you trustworthy, concluded that so even before he ran a background check on you.

—and so far, he seemed correct.

—on the first day, he was just as nervous as you were, leaving his precious and sacred gift to the world with a complete stranger—it was frightening and if he had the choice, he wouldn’t have done this.

—he would tell you about the cameras installed throughout the house—mostly for the safety of gabriella’s, but your well-being was also a considerate factor in this choice. 

—you were small, and if miguel said that you looked weak, you’d probably say a questionable thank you considering how quietly submissive you were towards him.

—later that first night, miguel knew he made the right choice in picking you (out of a measly three candidates, but still). 

—you managed to get gabriella to sleep by her bedtime, one routine that miguel still hadn’t figured out yet.

—but to be fair, babies woke up and slept according to their own terms, so did they really have a bedtime other than day, afternoon, and night?

—like the first night of many, you bid him goodbye after being paid.

—goodnight, sir! i’m pretty much free all summer until my semester starts, so if you need me on stand by or something… go crazy!

—all right, I’ll keep that in mind. 

—and… thank you.

—something ignited in him when you guys spoke. it must’ve been… what, your fourth interaction together? 

—the first few have been more formal—interviewing you, introducing you to gabriella, and checking up on you with a phone call. it was limited, a thick barrier that miguel would put up between you and him because it was work—just work.

—even though he sent you off fairly quick, the interaction was long enough for him study you like he never did before. 

—he never realized how handsome you were, optimism practically seeping from your smile to your voice. it was a stark contrast to his moodiness, strained by the constant amount of stress put on by work, and furthermore by an ongoing divorce case.

—but he liked you, more than he’d like to admit.

—miguel liked the way you would tuck your shirt into your pants. a younger version of him would’ve labelled you a nerd, church boy even.

—but he found it attractive when the fabric laid on your chest with the right amount of tightness—a slightest exposure that would have him staring for an embarrassing amount of time.

—he also found it attractive when the peak of summer closed in on you.

—one day, you would show up at his doorstep in shorts.

—you preferred walking. 

—no wonder you were so radiant to him, you practically soaked in the sun every day before you two would meet.

—sorry if i look like a mess, sir- i look gross, don’t i?

—that feeling in him returned again, churned like butter as he would watch the sweat calmly roll down your aching legs.

—i’d be lying if i told you no, wouldn’t i?

—you were a mess, miguel would go on to agree to himself. not because of the way your hair sparkled in the sun as it latched onto sweat—but because of the way you were completely oblivious to how you made him feel.

—it only grew stronger with subsequent meetings.

—you can use my shower, you know. it’s gotta be uncomfortable to be sweaty in those clothes for—what—eight hours?

—no, no! I’m fine, sir. i don’t think it would be right of me to-

—well, just throwing it out there in case you needed to. 

—next time, then!

—and the next time, you would carry an extra bag of clothes because you and miguel both knew the outcome.

—it was a proud moment when miguel could smell his body wash on you when you left that night.

—sure, he probably bought the most generic brand he could find. but he has never smelt that scent on you before, so it inflated his ego to know that you’d be walking home in his usual scent.

—sleeping in his scent.

—like every other night, a shower would mark the end of miguel’s day. it was his favorite pastime—all thoughts were left behind as soon as he stepped under the shower head, letting the warm spray of water wash him of stress.

—when he stepped out, something caught his eye in the corner of the tiled floor—something blue.

—your briefs. 

—you forgot to take your briefs with you because you were rushing when you heard gabriella suddenly cry.

—it would’ve been off-putting by anyone else, but this was you.

—this was your briefs, miguel would then hold up like a trophy. a piece of fabric that would contain and cover you—touch your most vulnerable parts.

—with the current feelings miguel had for you, it would’ve been a missed opportunity if he simply threw it in the washer.

—so, he doesn’t.

—11 am. where miguel would usually find himself sleeping by this hour—he was inhaling the scent of your musk instead, scrunching your sweat-stained briefs to his face as he jerked off in bed.

—in all honestly, he was ashamed to admit that he loved the smell of your sweat.

—but miguel would nonetheless take deep whiffs, desperate to smell you in your most vulnerable state.

—and he comes at the very last second when he can.

—it wasn’t enough for him though, so miguel doesn’t waste a single second to jerk himself off again—his cum lubing his sensitive cock up with a generous amount of stickiness and slick.

—good morning, sir!

—(m/n), i thought i said that you can call me miguel?

—oh… right! sorry, that completely slipped my mind. i must’ve forgotten.

—never stop forgetting, miguel muttered to himself, fucking his heavy cock into  the depth of your briefs.

—he loved the way you called him sir. it made him feel authoriative and only fueled his want and need to protect you—you and your weak body. 

—you’d be powerless if something were to happen to you, and the chances of that happening were well in your wits since you continued to insist on walking home.

—unbeknownst to you, every night miguel would follow you in the shadows—an undisclosed bodyguard of some sort—until you reached home.

—even then, he wasn’t fully relaxed because most crimes always took place domestically.

—he would watch you from below, through your window, for quite some time, making sure your parents’ house was a danger-free zone. 

—and it wasn’t until you took your pants off and began stroking yourself through those same blue briefs, that he was finally at peace. 

—fuck... miguel stopped fucking into your briefs to take another whiff of the fabric until his nostrils stung—a mixture of you and him together now. 

—the fabric clung around miguel’s cock as his thick precum was the only glue that pieced him and the presence of you together. 

—he would think back to how you would suck on two of your fingers as you stroked yourself to nothing but lewd thoughts—your eyes tightly closed to visualize your perverted mind into reality. 

—what are you thinking about? who are you thinking about? is it me? are you thinking about my cock?

—the air in his bedroom has gotten heavier, thick with sex as he sweated under the cloud of you fingering yourself with the clumsiest yet neediest precision.

—he spat on his cock to slick it up again—because he could go on for hours—replaying back to the night where he watched you completely juxtapose with the innocent image he had of you prior.

—your hips were lifted up, legs awkwardly bent back as you dug into yourself, working your hole open deeper with one, then two, then three fingers because—miguel was right. like a spell, you were thinking of him and his cock.

—he had to be big, you were so sure of it. the fact that you strained your neck from looking up at him was a telling sign that he was, as ignorant as that was.

—and you were practically drooling at the thought of his cock stuffing you with the most fulfilling amount of pain and pleasure.

—you’d want him to be ruthless with you and show no mercy as he couldn’t care less about the way you whimpered and cried out for him to stop.

—fucking you from behind as his strong arms held you in a headlock, applying pressure that would frighten a choke out of you.

—because you were nothing but his fuck toy.

—it was all overwhelming for miguel on that night, almost too good to be true and he had to squeeze his cock through his sweats to make sure this was reality.

—you would confirm that it was, with the image of you coming all over your chest and stomach, all to the pathetic plunging of your fingers.

—and miguel does too, coming powerfully, to the point of shudders running down his broad back, into a part of your briefs where it would hold your own dick because he wants his smell to be imprinted on you, inked deep into your flesh.

—until you smelled like his.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.marvel #✰ : nou.miguelohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x m!reader #male reader #x male reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x m!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #marvel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel headcanons #g: smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #m!reader

[yggdrasilhypno]

So I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.

Can you resist someone hijacking your brain?

I mean, seriously. Can you?

I’d hope and imagine so, it’s not that hard to resist someone.

All it takes is some mental fortitude and focus on something and it’s easy peasy.

After all, you’re resisting control now!

Come on, don’t tell me you have no idea what’s going on right now.

This is all a ploy to have your brain drop its walls with reverse psychology, you figured that out by now I’d think.

And if you didn’t, well that’s not entirely a bad thing.

You see, when it comes to covert and the ideals behind it, it’s one of those things where if you don’t already know the tricks of the trade, it can be difficult to spot.

Think of it like a magic trick, the first time you see it you can’t believe your eyes but once you learn the truth behind it, it makes a ton of sense.

That’s essentially what covert is, and that’s what resistance is too!

Resistance at first seems surefire, like you could do it in your sleep.

However, once you really investigate how the brain is peeled back ever so easily, it becomes a bit harder to even gauge where resistance lies.

Do you resist the words im telling you, or resist the ideas behind them?

Am I hiding something within these words, or is it simply another ploy to lower your walls?

You can see where this all comes from, right?

Resisting me isn’t hard at all, I invite you to do it when you can.

Not because it’s something I always want for you, I do indeed want you to fall when listening to my words.

But, we both know what happens at the end of it.

You fall anyways.

It’s an inevitability.

That’s what makes it fun.

Like jumping out of a plane, you know your parachute will open and you’ll fall safely to the ground.

Resistance is the same in hypnosis.

You know you can resist, and it’s fun to try and fight that inner voice telling you to melt for me.

That’s why I invite it.

It makes it more fun for the both of us.

I want you to notice though that again, im using resistance as a ploy once more.

Simply telling you to resist me.

You know about reverse psychology, don’t you?

I mean, it would be silly for you not to think im using it right now.

I’m telling you to resist so that you hear those echoes in your brain.

Telling you to let down those walls because you know it’s your fate now.

And yet, you can still resist me.

You can still resist my control.

Or you may find yourself slipping anyways.

Maybe I told you to resist.

Maybe I told you to fall.

That’s the best part about knowing your fate though.

Like I said earlier, it’s all about that inevitability.

That you’ll fall soon enough.

And you will, don’t worry.

Hell, you may have already fallen and not realized.

Maybe you’re so deep now that the pretty fog inside your brain’s already destroying every thought you have.

Maybe every thought you have now is just something I told you to think.

But, that’s the best part about it all.

You don’t know what’s going on.

Why you feel the way you do.

And it’s okay not to.

Sometimes, it’s better to sink and enjoy the ride.

Or enjoy resisting me still.

You have been resisting me still, haven’t you?

No?

Yes?

Does it matter?

You’re still going to fall anyways.

It’s not like I’ve been brainwashing you in and out and in and out of resistance this entire time.

It’s not like you’ve had any to begin with anyways.

I could’ve just been using all sorts of reverse psychology on you.

Who truly knows?

Not you, that’s for sure.

You see, that’s the best part of the fall.

When we get here, to the end of this little adventure.

And you know what comes next.

I’ve told you a million times already about it.

You may even believe that number, it’s not like everything else I’ve told you has been fabricated.

But there’s one part to all of this that is the truth.

The ending.

You fall.

Just like that.

And sink, melt, drop, dream into the abyss once more.

And just remember for me, for a moment if you can.

When I started talking about resistance.

Don’t remember? That’s okay.

Maybe you didn’t have any before we started.

Maybe I just broke it all down.

But, you knew all along anyways.

You were gonna fall.

Good subject.

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #brainwashing #hypnosub #hypnodomme #hypnotized #mind control #brainless #covert hypnosis

[divine-knight-hand]

Night of The Maneater

Part 2: The Catch

Part One || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist

Pairing: Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader

Summary: The games are over, and The Maneater has laid claim to her prize. Now, it would seem she wants to play a new game with her catch of the night...

Content Warnings: Light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise

Notes: This is the first time I’ve written a fic in second person. I usually write in first person, but I figured it was time for a refreshing change. Well, that and I didn’t feel like switching POVs, so now we have this. Enjoy!

Also, I didn’t realize when scheduling the post for this, but happy FNAF movie day!!! How convenient was my timing? Hehehe! 🤭

Word Count: 2,378

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Michael woke up in his own bedroom. The back of his head still throbbed, and he even felt a little dizzy as the haze of sleep threatened to pull him back under.

He was seated at the head of his bed, convinced the whole experience he had with The Maneater was just a bad dream until he tried to move his arms. He was handcuffed to the headboard behind him, his arms bound behind his back.

“Rise and shine~” The ghost-faced figure entered the bedroom with an air of sinister excitement contrary to her mask–which was stuck in a silent scream exaggerated by its elongated mouth and stretched jaw–and her body was draped in the dark fabrics of a tattered black cloak, leaving most of her figure to the imagination.

She strolled into the room holding Michael’s long abandoned bowl of popcorn. “I hope you don’t mind. I got a little hungry while you were out.” It was odd, hearing her voice without a phone in his hands. It came to his ears in a sound unmuddled by telephone static.

She placed the bowl on the nightstand before sitting on the bed next to him, resting a gloved hand on his knee. “How’s that head of yours?”

Michael flinched under her touch. “I- It could be better.”

“Poor thing…” The Maneater rose to her feet, strolling along the side of the bed. “Need a painkiller?”

“No thanks.” He decided he’d rather not let this mysterious figure drug him while he was handcuffed to his own bed.

When The Maneater leaned against his nightstand, he found his voice again to ask. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’d like to do a lot of things to you, Michael,” The Maneater’s voice took a sensuous dip. “But, I need you to admit something first.”

Michael felt his heart flutter. “Wh-”

He was interrupted by The Maneater as she pulled a hunting knife from within her tattered cloak to hold the flat of the blade against his face, the chill of the steel making him shiver.

“You never fully answered my question earlier.” She used the blade to caress his face, eliciting another shudder from him. “Did you enjoy our little game?” She leaned in, and Michael almost thought he could see the faint outline of human eyes looking back at him from within the dark voids of the mask's lifeless eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell how you really feel. I can see…” She dragged the flat of the blade along his jaw. “...how the danger as I chased you…” The knife continued its journey down his chest. “..and the risk of being caught by me…” She continued sliding the knife all the way to his knee before trailing it back up his thigh to rest beside his evident arousal. “...really affected you. You liked being hunted, didn’t you? I’d even dare to say that you wanted me to catch you.”

Michael anxiously bit his lip, his cock throbbing with each new part of his body the knife explored. “I- I don’t-”

“Oh, come on.” The Maneater scoffed. “Answering this question wrong is what caused you to lose our game in the first place. Would you really want to make things worse for yourself by misanswering again?”

Michael gulped, feeling a surge of humiliation as heat flushed his cheeks. “I- I did…”

“You did what, hun?” The Maneater teased as she used the flat of the knife to tilt his chin back up to face her. “Use your words, Michael~”

Michael felt another surge of embarrassment as a desperate whine creeped into his voice. “I liked your eyes on me… I liked hearing you praise me… I liked being hunted by you… and…”

He could hear The Maneater breathing heavily. “And what?”

“And…” Michael twiddled with his fingers behind his back. “And, part of me wanted you to catch me.”

The Maneater shivered, and she lazily tossed the knife across the room before cupping Michael’s face with her gloved hands. The material was thin enough to allow him to feel the warmth of her hands through it, and he let out a soft moan as his eyes fluttered closed at her touch.

“And now that I have you,” She rubbed her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks. “What should I do with you?”

Michael slowly opened his eyes, looking up at her with a soft expression. “Let me see who you are.”

The Maneater cocked her head, taking a moment to consider the idea. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Michael’s eyelashes fluttered as he breathed. “Can you show me who you are? Please?”

The Maneater slowly drew her hands away from Michael, and he softly whimpered at the loss of contact. “How polite~” She grabbed at her ghost face mask. “I guess I have no choice but to show you, now.” Then, in one fluid motion, she ripped it off.

Michael gasped at the beauty that hid underneath the eerie ghost face mask. He stared in silent wonder, taking in each feature of the human face that now greeted him with a knowing smirk. Your face.

He admired everything of yours that he could see. Your eyes. Your smile. The blush that only slightly betrayed your intimidating gaze. You were gorgeous. You were everything he wanted, and he wanted you a lot.

When you opened your mouth to speak, he hung on to your every word, finally being able to match the familiar voice to the new face. “That radio station you listen to knows me as ‘The Maneater’, but my real name is Y/N.”

“Y/N…” Michael softly tested your name on his tongue. “You look amazing…”

You chuckled at his compliment, holding a hand up to cover your growing smile. “You flatter me, Michael." You caressed his face in your gloved hands, leaning in closer until your forehead rested against his.

Michael could feel himself growing desperate. He could feel your hands on him, your breath intermingling with his against his mouth, and your gaze as it remained unwavering from his face. He would stare into those eyes for hours if his nerves allowed him to. He wanted nothing more than to pull you on top of him and beg you to take him.

Instead, all he could muster was a soft plea. “T- Touch me… Please…”

A sinister smirk tugged at your lips. “You want me to touch you?” You softly slid a hand up his thigh. “Like this?”

Michael almost felt dizzy under your touch. “Mmh… I need more…”

“More?” You jumped up onto the bed and crawled onto him, straddling his thighs. “You’re a needy thing, aren’t you?” You softly chuckled. “Luckily for you, I want the same things you do.”

Suddenly, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, grinding against the bulge that strained against the front of his jeans. He moaned at the friction, granting your tongue access to his mouth as you pulled him closer.

It was hot. Incredibly hot. Every inch of his skin burned for more of you, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer. He felt sweat building on his brow as his impatience grew. He whined as he bucked his hips into yours, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

You pulled away from the kiss, briefly staying connected to Michael by a string of saliva. “You’re as tasty as you are pretty. I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough of you.”

Michael felt a wave of both pride and embarrassment as he shyly looked away. If he wasn’t already heavily blushing, he definitely would have been now.

You began to trail kisses along his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as you made your way to his collar. He felt a sudden draft over his skin as you finally opened his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders. The fabric collected behind his back, but the warmth of his wrists underneath the bunched material couldn’t compare to the warmth of his skin against yours.

Casting your gloves aside, you began to feel around on his chest. Michael hoped, for a moment, that you couldn’t feel how his heart pounded. Your kisses began to grow more possessive as you sucked on the sweet spot on his neck. He was sure it would visibly bruise by morning, but he didn’t care. He wanted you to mark him. To lay claim to him. He wanted you to leave reminders of what was happening that night all over his body.

You then slid your hands down to his belt, undoing it before freeing his aching cock from the confines of his jeans. He anxiously bit his lip as you closely examined his length, the tip dripping with precum.

“So hard for me,” You breathed, your fingers teasing the weeping tip.

“P- Please…” Michael mewled, tears of desperation prickling in his eyes.

It was then that you finally gave in, moving off of his lap to strip off your black cloak, before letting your equally dark bra and panties fall to join the pool of clothes at your feet. Michael’s eyes scoured over every inch of your skin–your thighs, your stomach, your breasts–before meeting your own. His hands were eager to reach out and touch you, but the faint rattling sound from behind his back reminded him that his hands were still bound.

“Don’t lose your patience now, Michael.” You playfully tutted as you returned to his lap. “We’re almost there.” You began lining yourself up with him, teasing his tip between your slick folds. “Feel that? That’s how you made me feel tonight. I meant it when I said I had a lot of fun chasing you.” Everything you were saying was filthy and raw, and it only made Michael all the more desperate for you.

He whined, words escaping him. “Mh… Please…”

Leaning forward, you kissed him again as you finally let him inside. He felt his eyes roll back as your inner walls surrounded his throbbing cock. You moaned into his mouth as he slowly filled you.

Once you broke the kiss, you began to move your hips, setting a brutal pace as you allowed Michael’s length to slide in and out of you. He watched the way your breasts bounced with each thrust of your hips. Your head was only slightly tilted back as you shamelessly moaned aloud, your eyes unmoving from his face

Michael’s mind grew hazy. All he could think about was how good your tight cunt felt around his cock… and it felt good. The wet sounds your movements created faded into background noise as your pornographic moans became the only sound he could hear clearly.

“Mh- Ohhh…” He could feel warm tears spilling over his cheeks, but he couldn’t care about how he looked anymore. He was too lost in ecstasy. “So good- Ah!”

“Oh, Michael,” Between thrusts, your voice sounded smooth. Almost hypnotizing. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me.” You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away a tear with your thumb as the stream continued.

“It feels too good…” He imagined it would be the only coherent sentence he would form that night.

“You make me feel good, too, pretty boy.” You grunted as you clenched around him, earning another whine from him.

The pressure was mounting quickly. Michael could feel it. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his release was so close. He just needed that one push to send him over the edge. Just a little more.

“Gonna cum already?” You teased as a light sheen of sweat formed on your brow. “You have such a sensitive cock. I can’t wait to milk it for every drop you have.”

“Please!” Michael choked as you leaned in to kiss his tear-streaked cheek.

“Awww. You really want to cum?” You immediately stopped your movements. “Not just yet, pretty boy.”

Michael choked out a sob as you edged him. “P- Please!” He attempted to buck his hips as tears spilled unceasingly over his cheeks. “Please, I want to cum! Please!”

“Poor thing…” You cooed, holding his hips down to remain unwavering in your stillness. “You’re really desperate, hm?”

Michael quickly nodded his head. In that moment, he was willing to do anything to be able to taste that sweet release you were keeping from him. His squirms of discomfort only seemed to spur you on, the sinister grin on your face growing with each whine that escaped his throat.

“Please…” Michael persisted. “Please, let me cum.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before giving in. “You’re lucky you’re sexy when you beg.”

You began riding him again, setting a more intense pace than before. You gripped his shoulders for leverage as you full-force fucked him, unrelenting in your motions. 

“Mm- I- I-” Michael’s voice curled into whimpers as he neared his peak again. “M’cumming… C- Cumming!”

“Cum for me, Michael.” You softly ordered. “Let me feel you cum inside me.”

“I- I- Ah!” Michael finally hit his breaking point, and his cock twitched, filling you with his release as his moans grew in volume.

You helped him ride out his sigh, his orgasm bringing you to your own, and your praise remained unceasing as you came. “That’s it, Michael. Mmh… Fill me up just like that. Oh, yes… That feels so good… My pretty boy.”

As you both came down from your highs, Michael leaned his head back against the headboard of the bed, panting as his brain remained hazy from post-orgasm bliss. He just noticed your own heavy breathing right before you pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was softer. More affectionate than passionate.

Once you pulled away, you breathlessly smiled. “Don’t get too comfortable, Michael. I’m not done with you just yet~”

“Wh- What…” His voice trailed off, the question remaining unfinished as you trailed your kisses along his jaw.

“I’m gonna keep you busy for a while.” You whispered against his ear, making him shudder. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I’m gonna milk you for every drop you have.”

Michael bit his lip as your inner walls clenched around his cock. This is gonna be a long night…

#halloween #spooky season #halloween fanfic #horror fanfiction #michael afton x reader #michael afton #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #michael afton x female reader #michael afton smut #fnaf smut

[onelatenight-longago]

Stepping Into The (Spot) Light

Warnings/Tags: Fem!Reader, Depictions of Violence and Torture, semi-soft Buggy, he's a danger but also a marshmallow of a man, life on the Big Top, becoming one of the crew, sexual tension and teasing, romance, finding freedom and found family

Description: Buggy plays the hero just the one time and now he's a got a new crew member who will change everything for him.

A/N: I'm going to double post this story, first in 1st person then again in 2nd person.

Chp. 1 - First Person (below) Chp. 1 - Second Person

Chapter 1 (in 1st Person)

To explain how I met him, how I had come to love him, I’d have to explain how I had first found him. Or rather how he had found me. 

I was orphaned as a child. Left to roam the streets of the worst side of Loguetown. I learned very early on how to steal berry and food and I only ever took what I needed, never more. I fought for my survival every day. Though I knew living as a thief would catch up with me one day, I had just figured it would have been later rather than sooner. 

The night it had all changed was the night I had hidden away in a dock storehouse, I needed shelter from the rain and food to get me through the next few days. I was still a small child then and had found myself surrounded by heavy crates too difficult to open. I had resigned myself to another night without food and crawled my way to the far back of the crates, determined to find a spot hidden away and safe enough to sleep in for the night. Only when I came to the perfect spot it was instead occupied by a small box with a latched lid. The box was so unassuming that I could have never believed that it held something as powerful as it did. 

My curiosity had gotten the better of me and I dared to open the small box. I was overjoyed at finding that it contained some kind of fruit. I was too happy for a meal to stop and wonder why one fruit had been packaged just so in a well made box lined with expensive and lush fabric.  The fruit itself was oddly shaped and bitter and it's skin rough and difficult to chew but I was a begger at best and beggers could not be choosers. And when I had finished my meal I curled up, still tucked away within the piled crates and slept through the night, grateful for the food and roof over my head. 

It would be another nine days before I had realized just what I had done. Nine days before I realized the cost of my seemingly 'free' meal. It would be another cold night, only I had found myself trapped in an alleyway, cornered by a drunk and violent Marine. I was scared for my life. As a vagrant, I was accustomed to being called nasty things, but the look in that Marine’s eyes surely meant that if he had gotten his hands on me I would have suffered far worse than just nasty words slung my way. 

I tried to run and when that did not work I tried to fight but I had not yet learned to hold my own. Crying and screaming, crumpled into the cold brick corner I was certain that I would meet my end. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impending hit or kick but when all that came was the solid thump of the Marine’s body down in front of me I opened my eyes to the sight of a blood red feather boa wrapped tight around his neck, his lips turned blue, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He was dead and I was certain it was my fault, although I had not understood how. I reached out to touch the feather boa but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. 

As years passed I learned to master the skill the Devil Fruit had given me. Learning that it was known as the Boa Boa Fruit, granting me the ability to conjure feather boas as I pleased. I began to perform for berry. First conjuring the boas and having them dance about like dragons. As my skills developed so did my body, with each year an inch more grown into my hips and bosom. The berry I could make nearly doubled then when I instead danced myself, surrounded by the boas and moving in time with them. I could leave a crowd of thirty plus entranced and ready to hand over all their berry to me.

They say the Devil Fruits are cursed, and that once consumed the sea would no longer favor you but I didn’t heed the warning. I had no plans to sail the sea, no desire to enter its waters. I was certain the curse of the Devil Fruit would not affect me. I was wrong. Karma caught up with me anyway. 

I had come to find long term employment at a particular pirate bar, finally having stable employment and someplace to call my own even if it was but a single room above the bar. One night, said bar was overturned by another Devil Fruit Eater, a pirate captain named Wasp. He could conduct electricity on will. It was then I was taken captive, learning the hard way the cost of eating a Devil Fruit. 

This was how I found myself a slave to Captain Wasp, a sick man who used me for his own gain. He strung me along with him town to town forcing me to dance. I tried too many times to escape to fight back but with each attempt Wasp would electrocute me within an inch of my life.

It was in one of these escape attempts that I first saw him.

I had planned for weeks for this moment. As I danced and Wasp’s goons picked the pockets of the entranced crowd, I watched carefully for my opening. The moment in which Wasp’s men would return to him with their spoils and he’d be distracted counting, his back quietly turned away from the crowd and ultimately away from me. I would make a run for it, turning through alleyway after alleyway, moving between and through the buildings until I was certain I could successfully hide away. What I hadn’t planned for was some over-eager onlooker to grab me, pulling me back as I made a run for it. 

The pain was unbearable as the electricity crept through my body, Wasp cackling louder than I could scream. The crowd that had surrounded me quickly dissipated with panicked shouts and I was left laying in the dirt, crying out for help, my voice strangled with pain. It was then I met his eyes from across the roadway as he sat outside some bar, watching on with a blank expression. I mouthed ‘help me’, praying to any entity that he would listen, that he’d answer my plea. 

The next thing I noticed was the red smoke crawling across town, Wasp was distracted and I quickly pulled myself from the ground stumbling my way into a run. I didn’t look back, I didn’t stop, I just kept running. I didn't know how long it took but I had finally found a shop to hide in, its original occupants now missing. My breath was becoming labored and I felt so close to fainting. 

“Hello little Dove.” A cutting and rough voice called out to me, there was someone else in the shop with me after all. “You called and I came” The voice continued but I had begun to lose consciousness, the last I heard was his laugh ringing out around me.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy the clown x reader fanfiction #buggy one piece #buggy fanfiction

[it-happened-one-fic]

Bias - Cyno

Author Notes: @milanka1604 So this is the high-fantasy adventure fic that goes with the book that has been lovingly recovered in sun-faded fabric. I helped myself out a bit with the writing by listening to “Legendary Lovers” by Katy Perry which most certainly affected how this story came together. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ 600 followers event request/ fluff/ high fantasy adventure in a book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric/ isekai/ romance implied

Word count: 1652

I honestly didn’t know how long I’d been out before I’d woken up, staring straight up at a bright blue desert sky and wondering how I’d ended up here when, mere moments ago, I’d been right outside of my bookshop with Cyno.

What made it even worse was the fact that I also had someone else’s memories dancing around in my head.

Initially, after realizing that there was far more amiss than just my location due to the strange, foreign clothes I had woken up wearing and the odd memories, I’d tried to leave the oasis. But I’d been unable to leave the side of the cool, clear water, and had eventually given up. Opting to instead ponder my situation and try to figure out what, exactly, was going on.

And that was how Cyno had found me, as he’d appeared atop a dune and almost immediately looked my way, like he was somehow honed in on my presence.

 I stared up at Cyno from where I sat in the golden sand around the oasis, relieved to see him and finding myself fascinated by the strange clothes he wore. 

Dark robes that were wrapped around him, making him look like he was some hero out of some high fantasy story as he pulled down the mask that had concealed all of his face but his bright red eyes.

“So this is where you were… I’d wondered if you’d gotten dragged into this book as well.”

I felt myself smile at his words, nodding slightly as I watched him walk over and plop down next to me with an almost surprising degree of nonchalance. But then Cyno was more used to being in the desert than I was.

But his words told me almost everything I needed to know. He’d reached the same conclusion as I. That we were stuck inside of a book.

The book that he’d spoken of was, in fact, something he’d been investigating as the General Mahamatra and was also quite likely the sole reason we were in our current predicament.

From what Cyno had told me when he’d first received his mission, an Akademiya researcher had recently flooded the book market with some less-than-safe novels that quietly dragged the reader into the story.

Before we’d ended here, wherever here was, I’d been giving Cyno a suspicious looking book that had just recently turned up in my store.

After that, all I could remember was a brilliant flash of light and then waking up in the desert. Each of us in different locations.

At this point, it seemed clear that the book I’d been giving him was indeed one of the novels that was pulling people into it. This one, in particular, seemed to deal with some sort of high-fantasy story set in the desert, if the memories I’d been gifted with were anything to go by.

I could only assume the memories were, in actuality, the backstory of whatever character I’d been slotted into when I’d been pulled into this story. Unfortunately, though, my character hardly seemed to be a fun one.

Apparently, my role was that of someone who had mystical powers that allowed them, or rather, me, to cause oases to spring into existence.

Though such an ability ought to have been a hot commodity in a desert setting such as this one, my character’s memories told a very different story.

Afraid of the mystical oasis-giving powers, the locals of my character’s home village had kicked them out and abandoned them in the harsh desert.

After wandering for an extensive period, my character had then run into a group of power-hungry adventurers who wanted to use my character’s powers to create a corrupt government where all would serve them.

So my character had fled before reaching this place and hiding, and, so far as I could tell, that was around when I’d appeared.

I could only assume that, judging from his rather fantastical outfit and notable sword strapped to his back, Cyno was the hero of this story. No doubt a lost prince or some such character that was off on a great journey and had stumbled across both me and this oasis.

I gazed at him carefully, tilting my head in slight amusement as I realized that Cyno actually fit his role amusingly well. Not only did he look the part with his pale hair and red eyes, he could easily handle any action scenes this novel would throw at him.

That didn’t change the fact that neither of us seemed to know what to do in this situation, though, and I could tell just from looking at him that the young man next to me was tense. 

But there was no telling what he’d encountered in this world already if this really was some sort of adventure story.

The heroes of such stories always seemed to lead a hard life, and I could only imagine what Cyno might have already dealt with.

I sat back, letting my hands press into the sand beneath me, “So... What’s your character’s backstory?”

At my words, he looked my way immediately. His eyebrows lifting slightly, almost like he could tell that I was trying to ease the tense atmosphere. 

But then he twisted, facing me as he straightened slightly, “I am an adventurer who has been traveling the desert….”

He paused, and I waited patiently, watching as he seemingly came to a decision and slipped into his role, causing me to smile as I watched him play up the drama of his story, “Wandering, in search of some meaning to my existence.”

I snorted, shaking my head at exactly how run-of-the-mill and dramatic he made his character sound. But then, with my character’s backstory, I was hardly surprised. 

From the sound of it, we were stuck in a particularly tropey adventure story.

I leaned forward, though, finding myself grinning as I knowingly encouraged Cyno’s rather ridiculous antics in favor of agonizing over our situation.

 I’d done that enough already.

“And what have you found in your wanderings, oh great adventurer?” I matched his play-acting, but felt my smile spread as I noticed the gleam in his eyes.

His face remained a staunch mask of seriousness though, not unlike how he looked when he told one of his jokes as he gestured out to distant sand dunes, “Ruins taller than any modern city, though they have long been lost to the sands of time while people remain unchanged. They contain echoes of the time of heroes and monsters… Artifacts from the ages of gods.”

He trailed off slightly, his arm dropping as he held my gaze, “But only one oasis within all of these wonders. One oasis… And you.”

I shook my head, smiling all the while, though I was half-impressed with his play-acting, “That almost sounded like a real line from a campy adventure novel… I’m guessing you’ve been doing some late-night reading?”

He nodded, leaning back and tilting his head as he relaxed once more, “The books I bought from you, yeah.”

He paused, shifting and staring at me thoughtfully before he continued, “I’m guessing you are what my character has been searching for?”

I lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, “Well, my character, yes. Though that would make this a romantic, high-fantasy adventure story.”

Cyno nodded slightly, his expression not changing even as amusement rippled through his voice, “The best kind, then.”

I felt myself smile again, not bothering to comment on the fact that I was relieved by his presence or anything else that might break the now relaxed atmosphere, “I guess you really are getting to live out our favorite cover story of being an adventurer here.”

He nodded, “I even have you as a companion this time around.”

I blinked at him slightly, but didn’t respond. Instead silently watching as he stood, straightening fully so that he cast a shadow over me before he held out his hand to me in a silent offer.

I tilted my head though, looking from his tanned hand back up to his face, “How long do you think we’ll be stuck in this book?”

My voice came out surprisingly soft, giving away my slight nervousness with this entire situation, but Cyno only shook his head, “I don’t know. My best guess is that we’ll have to finish this story’s plot and go where this adventure takes us.”

Where this adventure took us…. At least I wouldn’t be alone. I could relax with the knowledge that Cyno would be by my side. A thought that had me wryly wondering if perhaps I was a better fit for the token character in need of assistance than I’d initially thought.

I nodded slightly at his words, quietly reaching up and slipping my hand into his. Letting him pull me to my feet easily.

He watched me silently, his red eyes holding my gaze as the wind blew the sand across the distant dune, and I wanted for him to say something.

At the very least, it was the perfect scene for the hero to say something.

But Cyno wasn’t the true hero of this story, and he turned, half disappointed me even though his hand was still gripping mine in a way that reassured me that no matter what, things would turn out okay, “Let’s go.”

He was allowed one step forward before the wind whipped the sand around us into a glittering shield that seemed to give way to a blinding light that soon consumed everything around us.

I opened my eyes hesitantly before blinking in surprise, registering the familiar surroundings before I spoke up, squeezing Cyno’s hand excitedly, “Cyno! We’re back!”

It took me a moment to register the slight smile that flickered across his face as he nodded at me, “So we are….”

He trailed off, though, his eyes narrowing at something behind me and causing me to turn as he let go of my hand and stepped around me.

But there, lying as innocently as could be on the floor behind me, was the book that had started our entire, short-lived adventure.

“And here is our perpetrator,” Cyno knelt as he spoke, picking up the strange book that had been recovered in sun-faded fabric before he straightened.

I stared at the book in his hands, quietly frowning before I glanced back at him, “Why do you think it let us out? Because we just completed an important scene or….?”

I trailed off as Cyno shook his head, “I don’t know, but I’ll take this book back to the Akademiya to be examined. Maybe then we’ll be able to catch its author.”

He looked back my way, and I managed a smile, “Just don’t open it on your way there. We don’t want you getting literally sucked back into the story.”

He snorted slightly, a soft sound, but nodded nonetheless, “Agreed. I’ll be back later, though. Our little adventure left me wanting more. Though I’m not sure you’ll have any stories with better characters than ours had.”

I blinked at him in surprise before snorting at his words, shaking my head in quiet amusement, “I might not be able to find a better hero, but a better secondary lead should be manageable.” 

He tilted his head, his eyes glimmering slightly with unsaid words, before he bobbed his head slightly, “If you say so…. Either way, I’ll see you later.”

I nodded, finding myself waving in a fond farewell and watching him stroll down the busy street and away from me. Struck once more by exactly how well the role of a high-fantasy adventure hero actually suited him.

But then… that was possibly my own bias showing.

#Genshin impact imagines #Cyno x reader #Cyno #Genshin impact x reader #genshin #gender neutral reader #Genshin impact #Genshin x reader #Genshin x you #Genshin x y/n #Cyno x you #Cyno x y/n #Genshin impact x you #Genshin impact x y/n #Genshin impact cyno #mywritings #it-happened-one-fic #600 followers #600 followers event #high fantasy adventure #request #fluff #romantic #isekai

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

I was wondering if you could do a joyce byers x daughter reader or daughter figure where the reader has a bad panic attack and joyce consoles/comforts them? I'm asking all around for this fic. I have really bad panic attacks so i'd like to think of joyce as a comfort.

i don’t typically write for joyce (only in my ST series) but she is such a good mom. i too would like to be comforted by her. takes place pre-season 1. joyce still has her job at melvards or whatever it’s called. also i get bad panic attacks at times it sucks.

joyce byers x fem!reader (platonic) (cw: cursing, slut shaming, harassment, panic attack. also tommy hagen in its self. why i chose to include him, probably cause it was the ‘easiest’ way to produce a PA at least for me.)

masterlist

stupid tommy hagen and his annoying ass face. egging your car, spilling his lunch on you, call you not true names. you’ve had enough of his taunts.

“oh, if it isn’t the walking tramp of the (l/n) house. hey, how much for an hour? heard you were quite pricey.” his obnoxious laugh filled the square. it was only you and him walking down the street, how lovely.

“fuck off, hagen.” not bothering to look his way. gripping your purse strap in a vice.

he scoffed, “oh, i’m actually asking you to fuck me. heard from some of the basketball team your pretty good at the dirty dance. holy praises.” you could hear his feet dragging on the pavement.

you glared over your shoulder at him, flared nostrils and scrunched brows. “don’t you have a girlfriend? pretty sure she’d be fine with your charity case ass.” turning back to see your place of work coming into view.

just as you passed the hardware store a bruising grip latched onto your left wrist and yanked you back, causing a stumble to your walk. tommy hagen was pressing his chest into your back, almost curling over you as his breath fanned the side of your face.

“i’d watch that slut mouth of yours. could land yourself in some real tro-“ you cut tommy off as you twisted yourself and slapped him hard across the face. chest panting with quickening breaths.

“leave me the fuck alone!” kneeing him in the crotch for good measure and dashing into melvards. fast feet carried your further into the store so you weren’t seen from the windows.

“hey hon- you okay?” joyce byers circled the register and walked towards you slowly.

you didn’t realize you were shaking until you could barely get a word out with it getting stuck in your throat. “i- i uh, tom- he har- harassed-“ frantically pushing at loose bits of hair, tugging harshly at your clothes.

“hey, hey.” joyce helped move your hands from the hem of your shirt. “slow breaths. deep, slow breaths.” then she wrapped her arms tight over your shoulders, palms pressed flat between your shoulder blades and running in soothing motions.

your hands clinched to her work vest, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric. your hiccuping breaths were making you light headed and frantic. “in and out. in and out slowly.” joyce said calmly. “you need to calm yourself hon, your heart is beating fast.”

“i- im try- trying.” squeezing your eyes shut. “i know.” a hand slid up to cradle the back of your head.

it must have been only a few minutes of joyce cooing and comforting you before you were calm enough to step away from her hold. “sorry, didn’t mean-“ “it’s fine, hon. i’m a mother, it’s natural for me to parent people.”

you wiped away a few stray tears. “wanna- wanna tell me? about what happened?” rubbing a hand over your bicep. you just shrugged, “boys and stupid rumors making my life hell.” keeping your eyes to the linoleum floor.

joyce licked her teeth, “have you gone to the sheriff? sure that would help, to have an authority figure step in.”

“worried it might make it worse somehow.” picking at your nail beds. “plus there’s no actual evidence, only word of mouth.”

joyce hummed, “well, as the adult and a parent, you should go to the police or even your principal. kids shouldn’t be do that kind of stuff to each other, it could lead to… very harmful consequences.” sounding like she was talking from experience.

“i know,” voice so small, “i’m just scared. a little of going alone to the station.”

“well, why don’t we go after work? i’m friends with sheriff hopper and he’s a teddy bear, he just likes to act like a grizzly.” talking about him with a soft kindness.

you bit into your bottom lip as you looked at her, “that- i would like that. thank you, joyce.”

-

a/n: this will probably be the only joyce request/fic i write. if you request for a character that i don’t write for or haven’t mentioned, i’ll either write for them once or just not at all if i can’t find any inspiration/connection for them.

#erin's blurb request #joyce byers #joyce byers x fem!reader #joyce byers x reader #joyce byers stranger things #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[spencethebence]

Vee Doll Version 1!

This is the first doll I’ve actually finished. I'd like to talk about my process, because I’ve learned a lot going through with it! 

I was very much inspired by the doll making of @strangegutz I’d been wanting to try and make my own for the longest time. I had also picked up a custom Harpy Eda doll from thecosmicdolls on etsy, so I really wanted to give it a try on my own.

I started with the head using super sculpey and painting it afterwards. It’s the first time I’ve used super sculpey instead of colored sculpey. It's sooo much easier than trying to mix color through combining clay. I like the sculpt I did, but I did it before I even had an idea what I’d do with the body. I used craft paper for the hair, a method it used for the other doll I never finished, and overall I think it turned out well. I like the cartoon-y look the paper gives the definition of the hair but it was a process to figure out how to fold and glue it into the shapes I like. For the facial features I also used pieces of paper with sticky tack so I could change the expressions if I wanted to.

The body is made out of floral wire and foam, and the clothes are made from thrifted shirt fabric, a ripped pair of jeans and GI Joe boots. The process of making the underbody was a big learning experience for me. My first body I twisted the floral wire around a ton thinking I needed it to have a sturdy base, I realized it didn’t really need to have as much support as I thought with the wire especially if I’m the only one posing it, I can take my time to make it look the best. So the next step was gluing together a bunch of pieces of foam in the shape of the body that I was just going to shove a wire through, I spent a while trying to make the under body shape as perfect as I could, but when I finally went on to make the clothes I learned something important, the shape of the underbody didn’t matter too much, the only thing that really matters for body shape is how the fabric is sewn. The first shirt I did was way too small, but luckily I did the sleeves separate from the shirt because it would be easier to put them on the doll, so I didn’t have to remake those. 

My biggest take away from this all is something simple and obvious but is still something that’s always been hard for me to do. If I do something wrong, if something doesn’t turn out right, It’s GOOD to go back and do it again and do it right! Duh right? Well, I’ve always been really stubborn when it comes to art, the steps I look forward too are never the ones I’m actually working on at the moment it feels like so I’m always rushing ahead, living with my mistakes and skipping over refinement. Sometimes it’s okay to take shortcuts, and your art can never be perfect of course, but it took a lot of willpower for me to follow through and redo parts of this doll and it really helped overall. The arms and legs were all individual parts at first, and this made it so difficult to dress and work with it. I took a step back, thought it over and refined it, redoing the arms and legs with a single long piece of foam for each that was easy to get the fabric over. This solidified the process for me, because I took the time to redo it. I've set myself up to work better next time. 

I will be very honest, I don’t think this doll is that good, there’s a ton of things I think are off about it, I feel like the head style doesn’t make the rest of the doll. The proportions are off all over the place, and my sewing skills are still pretty mid after all these years. BUT I’ve never been prouder of myself actually following through and finishing and learning something from this process. I’ve figured out a lot of the process and I really want to go through and make another version of it.

#Vee :D #Vee Noceda #vee the owl house #vee the basilisk #vee toh #toh #the owl house #doll #ooak doll #art doll #myart

[littlemissmanga]

Rainy Day Comforts

Pairing: Wrecker x (gn)Reader

W/C: 1,141

Warnings: Nothing but comfort & fluff

This is my entry for @clonexreaderbingo for my "Rain" square :) Dividers by @djarrex & @samspenandsword

The sound of rain against the side of the Marauder wakes you up. It’s the softest alarm you’ve had in a while, though most things are gentler than the boys’ arguing or Tech’s evasive maneuvers to avoid asteroid fields.

You were warm — warmer than you expected to be — and the pleasant weight of multiple blankets pressed you deeper into the bed. Peaking an eye open, you see a mishmash of colored fabric covering you. You lift one to examine it more.

Isn’t this Echo’s?

A smile crossed your face with the knowledge that Wrecker must have bundled you before leaving your side. And it only took a single attempt at getting up before you immediately retreated into the safety of your cocoon, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

The chill from outside permeated the ship. Leaving your makeshift nest in nothing but your thin sleepwear was not going to be pleasant.

The thud of heavy footsteps stole your attention.

“Oh, good. You’re up!”

Wrecker strode through the Marauder, his long legs eating the distance until he reached the bed, sitting on just the edge.

You smiled ruefully at him. “Did you give me all these blankets?”

“Sure did! I had to get up and help the guys move some things, but I didn’t want ya to get cold without me.”

“That’s sweet, Wreck, but you didn’t have to steal stuff. I’d have been fine.”

Wrecker let out a dismissive huff. “You were shivering, mesh’la. ‘Sides, everyone else is up already. But that’s not why I came back here.”

“Oh? What’s on your mind, big guy?”

“We’ve got a free day! Tech an’ Echo are fixing the ship, so Hunter was gonna take Omega into town to pick up a few supplies. He says there’s a bookshop in town, too. One with real books, on flimsy and everything. I know you like those, so I figure we can go check it out. We got some extra money from our last job so we can pick one to read together. And when we get back, I’ll make ya some of that tea you like.”

That got you out of bed. Books, tea, and no mission? It was all your favorite things at once. Excitedly, you jumped up onto your knees, hands reaching to steady yourself against Wrecker’s sturdy form. “Really!?”

“Course! So get ready and we can head out.”

“I mean, you won’t hear me complaining, but what inspired all this? I feel like you’re spoiling me.”

Wrecker looked at you with genuine confusion. “Do I need a reason to spoil my girl?”

You melted at that. You loved when he called you his girl. Wrecker wasn’t possessive in his actions, and you didn’t want him to be. But your heart stuttered whenever he would call you his and let his words tie you together, claiming you in his own gentle way.

The rest of your day was just as warm and sweet despite the raw weather. Your trip to town was filled with playful banter, holding hands under your umbrella as the pair of you indulged in a little alone time. Or at least, alone from the rest of the batch.

You explored the bookstore, sorting through the options and picking a title that intrigued you both. Usually, you hated reading out loud, finding the act of saying the words enough to pull you from the story. But in this case, you were actually looking forward to reading it with Wrecker. You still had some money left over afterward, so you grabbed a few local snacks to enjoy with your tea at a nearby shop.

Back on the Marauder, Wrecker went to make your tea as you changed out of your now wet clothes. When you were ready with dry clones, snacks, and tea, the two of you snuggled back into his bunk, sans everyone else’s blankets this time, however, as they had been reclaimed by their original owners.

You didn’t mind. Wrecker was able to keep you both warm.

He tucked you against his side, his arm around your back as you began to read softly, not wanting to disturb the others. A few chapters in, you realized the rain picked up again, pinging against the metal hull in a unique rhythm.

It’s almost like a lullaby.

You read for a while, but after a few more chapters, you grew tired of fighting the drowsiness brought on by your full belly, Wrecker’s warmth, and the melody of the rain. Especially after such a wonderful day.

You looked up from the words in front of you to take in the details of his face, smiling stupidly at your boyfriend.

Wrecker cocked his head at you.

“I love you so much,” you declared.

The biggest smile broke over Wrecker’s face at your words. Slipping his arm down to grip your hip, he pulled you into his lap.

“Aw, I love you too!” Wrecker tightened his hold on you, but only slightly.

“I really mean it, Wreck,” you insist, turning to press your face into his chest. “Today was so perfect I don’t even have words. You’re too good to me.”

Wrecker curled around you, bringing up his knees to cocoon you in his hold the way you were cocooned by blankets this morning. You melted in his touch as peace radiated through you. Nothing could hurt you when Wrecker held you like this and that sense of security soothed something deep within you.

“Nah, that’s not possible,” he said, one large hand coming up to rest ever so lightly against the back of your head, keeping you in place against him.

You can feel your hair catch on his calloused fingers as you shake your head. “It is. I don’t know what I did to deserve being spoiled today, but I loved spending every minute with you.”

For a moment, Wrecker was silent. It wasn’t heavy, but you could feel the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. You counted the moments of waiting through the beat of his heart against your cheek. But before his voice hit your ear, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“You don’t need to do anything, mesh’la. I’ll spoil ya any chance I can, and you’ll deserve it every time just ‘cuz.” He paused for just a heartbeat before adding, “I like takin’ care of ya.”

Your eyes burned as they began to water, so you shut them tight and snuggled further into the safety of Wrecker’s hold.

“Well, next time we have a free day, it’s my turn to spoil you,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear.

“Ha! Sounds good to me, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that the rest of the night, basking in each other as your breathing evened out to match the rhythm of the rain.

A/N: I entirely meant to put off all other fics until I finished the final chapter of Date Night, but then my husband woke me up asking if I wanted to go to Barnes & Nobel to get a book and a PSL. Then he took me to Whole Foods for wine and cheese and we just spent the day together chatting and snacking and reading, which we don't get to do a lot since he works crazy hours. We had a version of the conversation that Wrecker and Reader did at the end of our day and I needed to put it to paper to process. Halfway through my journal entry though I realized I was writing it like a fic and I just kept going, and there is no character I associate with such a comforting idea more than Wrecker <3 Mostly because my husband is very Wrecker coded

Masterlist

Taglist: @dreamie411, @wings-and-beskar, @starrylothcat, @blueink-bluesoul, @wolffegirlsunite, @secondaryrealm, @idontgetanysleep, @freesia-writes, @clonemedickix, @dystopicjumpsuit, @multi-fan-dom-madness, @sinfulsalutations, @sunshinesdaydream, @wizardofrozz

Join the taglist here!

#tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #fluffy fic #pure fluff #wrecker fluff

[moraygrotto]

Fic time!!!!!

In 2023, I was lucky enough to reach 1,500 followers! As a celebration, I held a series of polls determining the main character, pairing, and kinks of a celebratory fanfic :) The winning combination was Ruggiе x Reader, with starving-to-stuffed feeding, and here it is~

I decided to place this fic in a fantasy/steampunk AU, where reader is an attendant at a public temple, and Ruggiе is a gentleman thief. It's also not explicitly romantic, though reader-chan & Ruggiе do both wish to be closer to each other :)

Thanks again to all who participated in the polls, and please enjoy!!!

~🌘~

Working night duty at the temple, your friends were a motley few. Only a select number of the city’s citizenry were allowed within the stately, glass-tiled stone walls at night, but that did not stop attendants such as yourself from making friends atop the entryway’s steps, or over the back garden walls.

The moment you stepped outside to empty the ashes you had collected from the temple’s censers, you knew the figure you spotted was not in the mood for any such socializing.

At first, you mistook him for a pile of black cloth; as you set the bowl of ashes down and ran up to him, you spotted a thick head of straw-colored hair and two hyena’s ears, catching the light of the moon in a way the back fabric that nearly buried them could not. He was slumped, motionless, over the steps, face obscured by a black bandana, arms and legs covered by long sleeves extending from underneath his tunic.

Even like this, you recognized this fallen figure to be Ruggie Bucchi. Crouching down to his level, you could barely breathe. You had not seen him in months.

“Hey,” you said softly, shaking his shoulder. “Hey, Ruggie. It’s me. Can you hear me?”

Ever so slightly, he moved.

“Yeah, you’re safe,” you assured him. “I’m gonna take you inside. Can you stand?”

He strained slightly, then flopped back onto the steps. You would have to bring him inside yourself.

“Tell me if what I’m doing hurts anywhere,” you said, snaking your arms around him and lifting him up against you.

A small sound was coming from him—Ruggie’s raspy voice, you realized.

“—not hurt. You can…” He drew a thin breath in as you scooped his skinny body up into your arms. “Thanks for… I really owe you… think I’d fall over if I tried to stand right now.”

“Oh, Ruggie, what happened?” you said, hurrying him back into the warm, sheltered interior of the temple.

“D’you hear… the factory?”

“No,” you replied. As the night attendant at a temple, you were one of the least informed people in the city.

“...a big fire,” Ruggie mumbled, jostling in your arms as you trotted through the shadowed halls. “A handful a’ kids lost their parents. I—someone—tell you more later; I—” He went silent, breaths growing shallow.

Since you slept downstairs in a one-room dormitory with the other temple workers, you could not take him to any resting place of your own without both disturbing the others and risking Ruggie’s privacy. Instead, you took him to a small chamber at the corner of the building, bordering the garden, used for special ceremonies.

Inside, there was a blanket draped over a stone bench, which you lay him down upon, as well as a lantern atop an herb-strewn wooden table, which you lit.

“Will you be okay here?” you asked. “Any first aid I should do before getting you some water from the kitchen?”

Ruggie had been still as you spoke, but both his ears twitched at this last word. “Kitchen,” he repeated, voice shallow and groggy. “...you could… bring me back some food; I’d be…”

“Of course,” you replied, and bustled out of the room.

Outside of the temple, the people you befriended were an interesting lot—courtesans, witches, and the occasional street urchin all took kindly to the temple’s presence, as did the city’s king—whose police force, however, begrudged the institutional privileges you held.

Ruggie Bucchi, with regard to the friends he kept and hours he prowled, was very similar to you. Having grown up poor and struggled into adulthood, he sympathized with the city folk in poverty, and did whatever he could, by any means necessary, to help out his fellows.

Years ago, when you first confided in a fellow attendant that you had met Ruggie Bucchi, they sighed in manifest jealousy, telling you that they had only ever heard his name in impassioned whispers. Now, the very same hero of the shadows was lying, barely conscious, in a little room in your temple.

Arms full of a jug of water and several dishes of leftover food, you rushed back to him.

He startled awake when you returned, wide eyes zeroing in on you as he spoke your name.

Even among the countless people he knew, he still remembered your name.

“Ugh, you’re the best,” he said, and tried to hoist himself to a seated position, but his arms quivered, and he toppled back onto his side. He groaned.

Assuring him that he need not strain, you awkwardly set the food down upon the ceremonial table—sacrilegious, but this was an emergency; nobody would spite you—and sat beside him carrying only the jug of water.

Ruggie made a small noise, ears flicking as you eased his head onto your lap. “Stay with me,” you said. “Here, I’ll give you some water; try not to choke.”

As neatly as you could manage, you poured a small splash into your palm, before pulling down Ruggie’s bandana to reveal his mouth. He was panting weakly, and in the small shaft of moonlight shining through the chamber’s only window, his tongue looked almost white.

Carefully, then, you let a trickle of water down between his open lips.

With astounding ease, Ruggie lapped it up, not coughing nor sputtering at all. Once the palmful was finished, he leaned up, eyes glittering, tongue out as if he wanted to lick your hand itself, then faltered, squeezing his eyes shut, and relaxing the weight of his head back into your lap.

“Thanks,” he breathed through shimmering lips. “More—please.”

You repeated the process a few more times, and as he drank, his stomach let out a long, sputtering growl.

“How long has it been since you’ve had anything to eat or drink?” you said.

“Not that long,” Ruggie said, and let out a wet cough. “But—hang on…” Still quavering slightly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, flung one skinny arm around you, and used you as support to sit up. A thin breath hissed out of him as he took the water jug from your hands. “We’ve had to boil water,” he said, “firewood and food’s really hard to come by. I’ve had some, but—” He paused to take a thick, gulping drink, belly softly bickering under the fresh deluge to his stomach.

“Boil water?” you said. “You don’t have fuel for fire? Where is this?”

Ruggie finished his greedy sip, and peered down into the jug, a look of simple pleasure dawning on his face. A rough, gurgling belch trailed out of him before he could respond, and he wiped his mouth again. “‘Scuse me,” he mewled, and you could hear the newfound lubrication in his throat. “Um, below the factory. There’s a big basement down there, and it connects to a couple tunnels below the city.” He gave a troubled sigh, and took another sip.

“What happened was,” he said, beginning to idly rub his tummy while he kept staring down into the water, “a bunch of the factory’s workers died when the building caught fire. Some of them had kids, and the factory owners said they would only help support them if they themselves came to work there.”

You blinked. “Aren’t any of the kids too little to work?”

Ruggie gave a single, sardonic laugh. “Bossman doesn’t care.”

“That’s terrible!” you said.

“Yeah, duh,” Ruggie replied. “A few of the builders who are working to fix the place back up think so too, so they volunteered to help shelter the kids underground. I’ve done stuff like this before, so I’m there, too. It’s just—” He leaned against you, and groaned. “It’s so much fucking work. Of course I’m gonna do it until they all find somewhere stable to stay, but I barely eat or sleep anymore. We, um—” he looked at you, and smiled sheepishly. “We need help. That’s the actual reason why I’m here, to see if you guys can pick out more city folks who are good at keeping secrets, and see if they want to volunteer.” He tapped a dirty fingernail against the glass of the jug. “I wish I really had come here for nothing but a drink of good water and a fresh meal.”

“It’s not actually fresh,” you confessed. “It’s mostly leftovers—”

“Oh,” he interrupted, “believe me, anything your two hands have scraped up is bound to be a zillion times better than what me’n the others have been eating. Speaking of which—” He kneaded one hand into his belly, which let out a desperate-sounding yowl in response.

“Oof,” you said, “you poor thing.”

“I feel like I’ve been hollowed out,” Ruggie grumbled.

“Here,” you said, opening a large clay dish, and lifted a flatbread out of it, straight onto your hand. You took up a spoon, the only utensil you had picked up in your haste, and used it to spread a layer of cheese onto the soft, doughy bread, before opening the third and final dish, a pot of beans and rice, and scooping some out into the middle. “Promise you won’t eat too fast,” you said, folding the whole thing up into a lumpy little wrap. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hurt your stomach from stuffing it too full.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Ruggie whined, “I’m not starving. I’m just… kinda…”

You raised your eyebrows.

“...Starving,” he finished.

“Please eat, then,” you said, trying to hold back a laugh.

Ruggie snatched the creation from you, eyes glittering in utter delight. Secretly, you had always adored watching Ruggie eat. He had shared snacks with you over the temple walls before, even been traded gifts of food from other people of the night atop your hallowed entryway steps, which he was always eager to devour right there. Now, as each time you had seen him eat in the past, his jaws parted wide, sharp teeth flashed, and he took his food down into himself with single-minded fervor.

Within seconds, your little flatbread had vanished, and a lopsided grin had washed over his face.

“Are you alright?” you said, running a hand up and down his bony spine. “You look almost too happy.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’m alright. How much’ve you… Wait. Hang on.”

You paused, and he paused, before raising one fist to his chest, and giving himself a hard thump.

A loud, brassy burp clattered out of him, dragging on a long few seconds, until you were a touch afraid your sleeping fellows downstairs might be able to hear. You blushed, embarrassed at how beautiful you found it.

Ruggie let out a coarse breath a moment later, face screwed up in discomfort.

“Fuck, there was a lotta empty air in there,” he whined. “I guess I’m glad that’s out.”

“How does your stomach feel?” you said softly.

Heaving another breath, Ruggie gave his belly a prod with his fingertips. “Kinda terrible,” he said. “Here, why don’t I—” He picked up the jug of water again, and took a long chug.

“That should help,” you said. “Again, don’t go too fast.”

He set the jug down again, and expelled a long, gurgling noise from his gullet, which you were not sure was a sigh, a burp, or some stormy mingling of both. “Y’know?” he said, “Never mind! I am starting to feel a lot better.”

“I’m so glad!” you said, and, emboldened, gave him a one-armed squeeze.

“I will take more food, though,” he added, and kicked his legs against the bottom of the bench.

This, you thought as you folded another flatbread, was closer to the Ruggie you knew. Hopefully, with a little more nourishment inside him, he would have his energy, wits, and roguish passion back in no time.

“You’re seriously the best,” he said, taking the little package of food from you. “Why don’t you just keep ‘em coming?” He gave his belly a smack. “Heck if I haven’t got room for a boatload more.”

Happy to oblige him, you continued piling the flatbreads with cheese, beans, and rice as he ate.

Before you noticed, he had utterly lost himself in his food, now and then swishing his tail and kicking his feet, even letting out little moans and whimpers of delight. If he did end up hurting himself with the amount he ate, you would be crushed with guilt. However, right now, watching him gorge himself in consummate bliss, you could not bring yourself to hold back.

Ruggie reached out to snatch the very last flatbread from you, and you noticed two grains of rice and a smear of gooey sauce stuck to his upper lip.

“Wait a moment,” you said, and lifted a napkin to Ruggie’s face, before wiping his lips off thoroughly.

His ears flattened, and he sputtered through your onslaught, “Hey—c’mon—”

Ruggie, the storied hero of your city, looked adorable as you cleaned him off. “Your face was dirty!” you chimed.

“Gimme that,” he said after you finished, and took the napkin from you. Carefully, he picked out both grains of rice, and swallowed them.

You frowned. “You… really are hungry, huh? You’ve almost cleaned out all this food, though; would you…”

Apprehensively, Ruggie set the dirty napkin down on the ceremonial table, and looked down at his gut. Beneath his loose black tunic, it was hard to see how full he looked from the outside.

You had never seen Ruggie get really stuffed before. Since he was so skinny and fit, and his appetite was so massive, you could only imagine how much food he could pack into himself on his best days. 

Quickly, you quashed the train of thought. You were taking care of him right now, not indulging your own interest. “I think,” Ruggie said slowly, “the fullness hasn’t really caught up with me yet. My head and body are still in eating mode, if that makes any sense.”

You watched him dreamily. Even the most candid attendants in your temple did not usually talk about their bodily processes so openly.

Ruggie poked his belly, then gently tapped it with his fingertips. “I think,” he said, “in a minute or two, I’ll—UUURRRAAPPH!” The belch crashed out of him, and he nearly doubled over his own stomach, and when he straightened up, he was rubbing his belly firmly and fondly, his bandana and a few locks of his bangs knocked askew. “There it is,” he said, and something in his voice sounded more resonant, open-throated. “Felt that one. Good to know everything’s moving around in there like it should be, right?” He snickered, and his belly gave an accompanying glorp.

“You sure everything’s good?” you asked, unable to hold back a smile of your own.

“Oh, yeah,” Ruggie said. “I feel alive again. Gettin’ a teeny bit full, too! Still got all kinds of room, though, so, uh, may I?” He reached out for the bread pocket in your hands.

“Go right ahead, if you can handle it,” you said, passing it to him.

He immediately bit in. “Mmm, yes!” he said with his mouth full. “This tummy’s begging for more.” Seconds later, he had devoured the whole thing, and was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You know,” you said, “though this is all the prepared leftovers we had on hand, we should still have some other raw stuff in the pantries. I could see if we have some fruit.”

“Would that be okay?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, you guys gotta eat, too—”

“Of course!” you said. “The others will know from the missing leftovers that I had somebody to feed tonight, and they’ll understand that it took a little more than what was available to get the job done. We are a temple, after all. It’s our job to be here for the people.”

“O-Okay!”

“While I’m getting that, here—” You handed him the spoon. “There’s plenty more rice and beans left in the pot. Some cheese, too; feel free to finish it.”

Ruggie grinned, and took the spoon from you. “Thanks,” he said, “mind getting me some more water, too?”

You left him reaching for the remaining leftovers, greed sparkling in his eyes. His appetite was truly astounding. You could not help but admire it, quickly convincing yourself that what enthralled you was seeing him recover and nourish himself, nothing more. It was thoroughly normal to enjoy watching one’s friends eat, you reasoned, as you arrived at the kitchen and began sorting through the pantry.

In a bowl, you picked a bunch of grapes from a large basket, then paused. You had to save some for the temple. Thinking back to him, however, you knew Ruggie would likely consume everything you brought. Your dashing little rogue was a bottomless pit.

Hurriedly, you grabbed some more grapes, leaving about half of the basket left full. Then, you filled a canteen to the brim from a tapped jug of coconut water. Hopefully this would be enough for Ruggie.

Hopefully, he had already begun to fill up.

When you slipped back into the ceremonial chamber, your hopes were duly, outstandingly fulfilled.

Ruggie had stretched over the length of the bench, one hand tucked beneath his head, the other on his belly, rubbing lightly, almost gingerly in wide circles. His belly itself, you could see now, poked upwards beneath his clothes, distended paunch growing clearer with each smoothing caress of his hand.

His eyes were closed, and he only cracked one open when he heard your footsteps and the sound of your dishes upon the table.

As if in greeting, his stomach let out a deep burble.

“Heya!” he chirped, attempting to leap upright, but flopping back down the moment his chest crunched against the bloat of his gut. “Hc-URrp—Sorry,” he said, before letting out one of his characteristically sibilant snickers. “I think I ate a little too fast just now. Turns out you were-urRP-playing a pretty important role, there, packing the food up for me and controlling how fast I packed it away.” He gave his belly a pat, and it responded with a churning growl, causing him to frown and shift atop the bench’s blanket. “I’ll—” He paused to let a deep burp rumble out from between two fluttering lips. “Mm—I’ll be fine, though. I used to gorge myself way crazier than this, back before I stuck myself underground with all those kids. I’m fine.”

You looked down at the foods you had just now brought him. “I got coconut water instead of regular,” you said slowly. “Would that be too much for—”

“Oh, no way,” he said, eyes going round. “That’s better; did you get—” He propped himself up on an elbow, and glanced at the food. “Grapes? These look awesome!”

You smiled. “You were just complaining you had eaten too much!”

He rubbed his mouth off with his hand, and struggled to a seated position. “Actually,” he said, “I said I ate too fast.” He grinned at you, ears perking up. “If you wanna feed me until I really can’t eat a bite more, you’re gonna need way more than this. I might end up eating you out of house and—uh, temple and home that way, though, and I don’t wanna do that. I’m grateful for all this stuff, I promise.”

You resumed your seat on the bench, feeling yourself relax alongside him. Out of all the denizens of the night you kept company with for this job, Ruggie was quite possibly your favorite.

“Alright,” you said, “we can save a feast like that for another day.”

“Can’t wait,” Ruggie said, plucking a grape from the bunch, and popping it into his mouth.

You watched him briefly chew, then gulp it down his throat before his eyes popped open wide.

“You okay—?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I just—probably shouldn’t’ve—mmgh!” He grabbed you with one hand, and clutched his tummy with the other as he canted forward. A wet, gurgling burp lurched out of him, once again so brassy and loud that you feared for the slumber of those downstairs.

He sighed, hard and blissful, before blinking back at you. He let go of your arm, patting it sheepishly as he chuckled. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” you replied. “Just… maybe don’t eat so fast—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruggie said. “I just gotta wait a minute before eating anything more, I think. I’m fine, I swear, but—”

“Well,” you said, “if you’re still having trouble, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruggie said. He squirmed a little in his seat, pressing with his fingertips lower into his gut. “But I’m not gonna make you take care of me more than you already have.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you said, swatting his arm playfully. “I’m a temple attendant. I’ve gotta follow all the core tenets of this institution, and the main one is, y’know, to help people.”

Ruggie shrugged, smirking. “I’ll take advantage of that, then, if you’re so principled.”

“There you go,” you laughed.

“Alright,” Ruggie said. “Use your fist to hit right in the middle of my back, not too hard, but—”

Gently, you thumped him near the bottom of his ribcage. “There?”

“Yeah,” he purred, “a little lower, though—nope, a little higher, actually—ooh, that feels good—”

A loud snarl tore from Ruggie’s guts. “That’s good,” he repeated, before you had the chance to ask. With both hands, he pressed into his tummy, coaxing more whimpers and gurgles out of it.

“Things starting to move around in there?” you said.

“Yeah-urph—yeah,” Ruggie said. A moment later, his spine curled. “Ack—hang on—but don’t stop.”

You brought a second hand to his back, alternating soft pounds with both fists.

Ruggie grimached. “Hang on, hang on, just one more little—” He clenched his fingers. “Just a—BRAAAP!” Posture softening, he smiled. “There we go. Thanks.”

“Any time,” you said, flattening your hand to softly stroke him.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Ruggie said, a happy looseness to his voice. “Really good, actually.”

You smiled back. “Ready to fit some more into that noisy tummy?”

As if hearing its name, his belly gave a sweet little babble.

“You bet,” said Ruggie, and reached for the canteen of coconut water, taking a swig so big it looked desperate.

Lifting it from his lips, he let out a loud, wet sigh. “You really are the best, you know,” he said. “You gotta be careful, or I’ll start coming here to eat more ‘n more often, until I never leave.”

This was a joke, but it only made you smile wistfully. Of course you would be thrilled for his company if he lived here. Ruggie, on the other hand, had too much to do, too many people he cared about, a thousand errands to run for reasons bigger than you, the most fundamental of which was his own survival. Your position as a common attendant at the city’s main temple also involved looking after the public, but yours was a more passive beholdenness—you were not sure if Ruggie wanted to settle down.

“Hey,” Ruggie said with his mouth full, “since you’re offering, can I ask for something kinda strange? You can say no, I mean.” He swallowed his mouthful of grapes, and reached for another gulp of coconut water.

“No harm in asking,” you said mildly.

“Could you rub my tummy while I’m eating?” he said. “Not, like, my upper stomach. I don’t wanna get all sick ‘n burpy, but a little lower. Just to, um…” He scratched his ear. “Make my belly feel nice.” He glanced up at you, eyes wide. “As I said, you can say no—”

“Why would I?” you chuckled. “Giving you a little tummy rub is the least this humble servant can do.”

“Oh, do not say that,” Ruggie said, adjusting his scarf with one hand as he reached for more grapes with the other. “You’re just my friend, okay? I know you’ve got your whole ecclesiastical duty thing, but—ooh!”

As he spoke, you had slipped a hand beneath his skinny arms, and pressed the lower part of his belly, just as he had asked.

“That’s perfect,” Ruggie mewled, leaning a degree forward into your touch.

“Good,” you said. “You’ve been working so hard lately; if you can relax and feel at peace, that means I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, believe me,” he said, and punctuated his sentence with a proud burp. “I’ll happily relax when you’re pampering me like this. You don’t need to worry about me, promise.”

“Ruggie,” you said over the sound of his still-ravenous crunching, “you literally showed up collapsed on the temple steps. You’ll forgive me if I’m a little worried about you.”

His stomach gave a small thrum of vibration as he swallowed. “Alright,” he said, “you got me there.” He placed the clean-plucked stem of grapes back into the bowl. “But I’m feeling way better now!” Awkwardly, at first, he pulled you into a one-armed hug. “That food was great, and you’ve been so nice—you’re being so nice.”

You gave his tummy a poke.

“Hey!” Scowling, but seemingly unable to stop, he took another grape from the bowl, crushed it once between his teeth, and swallowed it whole.

“I’m relieved you’re feeling better,” you said, watching as he devoured more in the same manner. “You’re always welcome here, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, grabbing a fistful more. “Duty to the common people, and all that—”

“Personally, too!” you retorted. “I like seeing you. I’d be happy to do this again—Uh, preferably without the you-almost-starving part.”

“I told you, I wasn’t—”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “Keep yourself well for me, okay?” You reached for the last bunch of grapes from the bowl, and handed one to him after plucking it off.

Ruggie popped it into his mouth, and rubbed his belly fondly as he ate. “No guarantees,” he said through his chewing. He swallowed, and grinned at you. “Especially not if getting in rough shape lands me this kind of treatment.”

You took off another grape, and Ruggie opened his mouth expectantly.

Blinking, you were caught off guard by this action, but understood it immediately, and dropped the grape into his mouth. “Hey,” you said, “no distracting me—”

“What?”

“I was going to reply,” you said, and suddenly froze up. Your hands flew back to their work at the grapes, and you fed him another. “I was gonna say,” you said shyly, “that you don’t have to fall over just to get me to feed you. You can just ask.” You swallowed dryly. “I mean, does it look like I’m just taking care of you ‘cause it’s my duty? I’m happy to do it, you know.”

Ruggie gave a soft snicker, and leaned against you. “Man,” he said, “no need to be sappy. You’re already spoiling me with food; the niceness is just overkill at this point.” He paused, weight warm and heavy at your side. “Ooh,” he said, “this does feel good, though. I think I, um…” He blinked slowly, ears pushing back as he stifled a yawn. “Do you mind if I lie down for a bit? I’m just a little sore all over from working so damn much.”

“You’ve still got a few more grapes left to eat,” you reminded him.

“I still want ‘em, just—”

“Lay your head on my lap,” you said, “and I’ll feed them to you.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ruggie obeyed, tucking his legs up onto the bench and nestling his head into your lap as you made room for him by your side. “I feel like a prince, or something,” he mumbled.

“I’m sure you’d make a great one,” you said, gently placing a grape into his mouth.

“Maybe,” he replied, “but then I wouldn’t be able to come here whenever I want.”

You smiled. He relaxed as he ate, shifting, stretching atop your lap. His belly was markedly exposed, and, unable to help yourself, you reached a hand down to rub him there, smoothing out the rumples in his tunic, feeling the places where the food made his stomach bulge, and the little rumblings all over as he digested.

He took the last grape from you with his eyes shut, moaning slightly as he ate.

You told him so gently, petting his stomach as he swallowed: “That’s all of them. Are you satisfied? Want any more coconut water?”

“‘M good,” Ruggie said, and cuddled slightly into your lap. “Nice ‘n satisfied…” As he wiggled his body down into you and the blanket, a little burp escaped him. You supposed even dashing rogues like Ruggie had to unwind sometimes. He looked cute this vulnerable, trusting you in a way that few of your nocturnal friends might ever be comfortable with.

“You can sleep here if you want,” you told him. “I can set you up with a cot. You deserve a good, long rest before going back.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Ruggie said over the sound of a low grumble from his belly. “Not until—hic-mmrp—a little bit later, though. I don’t wanna move, ‘n I really don’t want you to stop rubbin’ my tummy…”

You chuckled, and continued to stroke him, running your free hand through his flaxen hair. “Alright,” you said. “Take some time to digest.”

“Yeah,” Ruggie said, and took a heavy breath. “I feel so good…”

You gave his belly a soft caress. “You deserve it.”

#moray writes #burping

[chaotic-mystery]

ya know.. idk which Pedro character this would work for but I like the idea of him being surprised with a blowjob, a random blowjob just because reader is bored and wants to fuck with him, messing him up a bit, or distracting him in the background by playing pool and having no panties on or … something to make him just choke on his own drool. The man needs to have a taste of his own damn medicene. My first thought is random road head for Frankie, Joel or Javi. Or Din, if that’s possible… at all. Lol sorry for the novel but figured I’d throw ya something in your inbox

My god I instantly thought of Frankie.

He’d probably have you in the front seat on the way to go see Santi for dinner and your dress is riding up your thigh just a little bit, just enough for Frankie to put his hand on your bare knee. He’d rub shapes into your soft skin and he’s well aware that makes your head go fuzzy but he does it because it’s innocent, he has to be touching you in some way. He’s so focused on where he’s driving to he doesn’t even realize he’s halfway up your thigh now, but you notice.

You notice how good he looks with his shirt buttoned almost all the way, the glimmer of sweat on his skin from the humidity, the warm night just getting started. “You look amazing tonight baby, Santis gonna love you, I can feel it.” He grins and looks over at you and you match his grin, laying your hand flat on his thigh to reassure him you’re listening and you believe him. Your eyes can’t help but wander to his lap, in which you see a slight bulge forming in his pants. He’s so easy.

You silently get out of your seat belt and sit on your knees facing Frankie, who glances at you a few times trying to guess what you’re doing. “What’re you doing, honey? Oh, are you getting your sunglasses from the back seat?” He’s so blissfully unaware of what’s coming. Giggling under your breath, your hand once again finds his thigh. You lean over the center console of the truck, your fingers dancing up to his zipper and tugging it down as well as unbuttoning the fabric. Plunging straight into his underwear, you grab his half hard cock as you lean over fully, face inches away from his lap. Without a word you put his cock in your mouth and begin to suck.

“The hell are you doing?! We’re in the fucking truck where people can see us!” He shouts over the wind blowing through the windows and you pop the tip out of your mouth, looking at him with your head slightly cocked. “People? What people, sweetheart? There’s not one car out here on this road. If you want me to stop tell me to stop..” you trailed off as you made your way back down and licked the beads of pre-cum off the head before you shove his whole cock down your throat. “God damnnnn it you look so pretty doing that. Don’t stop please baby girl. Don’t stop.” He groans and places his hand on the back of your head, his eyes flicking between you and the road.

Grabbing his cock, you smack the tip on your tongue and look up at him, his mouth slightly dropped open before he grins at the wet feeling of the slaps. “You’re a fuckin’ dirty girl aren’t you? Jesus Christ- put it back down your throat.” He said through gritted teeth while he pushed your hair out of your way, looking at your beautiful eyes while he had the chance at a stop sign. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Your head bobbing up and down on his cock was something he was used to seeing, but in his truck? Well, that was a first. He moans louder as you lick the shaft from base to tip, swirling your tongue on the sensitive little spot right on the back of the head. Frankie’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as his knuckles turn white, cock beginning to twitch in your mouth.

As you moan against him, you deep throat his cock and let the head touch the back of your throat for a few seconds before reeling back a little bit. His cock twitches more and he starts leaking cum. “Don’t stop baby, I’m so close I’m gonna cum, please-“ he whimpers and grabs your hair to keep you steady as he half bucks his hips to fuck your mouth. His warm cum is sent straight down your throat as he groans your name over and over, filling your mouth rather quickly.

Frankie grows soft in your mouth as you swallow every last drop and you finally take his cock out from between your plush lips. He tucks himself back into his underwear and pants and takes his hat off, running a hand over his face and up through his hair. You sit up straight and buckle up like nothing happened, biting your lip to keep a smile from growing. Suddenly you both meet each others eyes and you laugh, the cloud of horny releasing you. “I’m gonna need some fucking tint on these windows if I’m gonna start seeing you more, aren’t I?” He asked and chuckled when you nodded your head quickly.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #frankie x reader

[wonderland-productions-blog]

Drinking Games: An Orc Erotica Pt. 3

NSFW Warning; Sexual Themes & Content

Word Count: ~ 6,000 (~10-15 min read)

Fem Human X Male Orc

Size Difference | Slight Praise Kink & Dom/Sub | Shower Stuff

AO3 Link Here:

Alone, again. Bur-uke was back to work after gracing me with this quick time together during his break. It’d been hours and I’d done enough to entertain myself. All the chores my room required and all the hobbies and projects that fit in my luggage had distracted me as long they could. Still I could hardly get my mind off of him. Every spare second was filled wishing he was filling me. I sigh, hoping a drink for the early evening could clear my mind. 

I sip away at my drink, in the lively tavern reading a book I’d brought from my room. A booth tucked toward the end of the room have a couple uproars, though nothing that elicited more than a glance across my shoulder every now and then. A few tables and booths had filled since I sat down, with passerby coming and going filling the bar stools at any given moment. 

I hear the booth mention a girl, with one gesturing toward the front of the room. I look around, finding there to be no other women about, even the servers must have been busy elsewhere. I shrug it off, until I hear it again followed by snickering. 

I get up and they fall silent, only solidifying that it was me they’d been discussing. “Can I help you boys?” I sneer, looming over their booth. I slam a hand onto the tabletop, their beer bottles and tankards clinking as everything shifts.

“Figures he’d like ‘em feisty,” A drunken man mutters with a giggle, sinking into the booth. 

“Excuse me?” I raise my voice.

“Ah, ignore him. Absolutely sloshed. We just noticed you chattin’ with one of our lads is all,”  One man says waving a hand, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“Good to see him back in the saddle after so long,” Another chimes in.

“Settle a bet and tell us if he paid you, would ya?” the drunken man snickers.

“Like he needs to pay me,” I smirk. 

One of the fellows elbows another, each of them chuckling amongst themselves. My face reddens, realizing what I’d said. 

“He’ll be ready for you soon, showerin’ now,” the man sunken in the booth mutters, gradually becoming more incoherent.

So he’s in the shower, huh?

“Sorry about him,” one of the more sober men apologizes. “Hope to see ya around again,” he smiles and waves, attempting to silence his friend making a fool of himself. The drunken lad makes a remark about watching me go, though improperly recited and articulated worse. I roll my eyes, heading straight out the tavern doors after the embarrassing encounter. 

I set my book on the porch fence, running my hand down the wood post. My eyes lock with the ground, watching the wooden porch steps turn to loose, powdery earth. I trace a footpath woven in the sand for a few moments, happy to find shade soon in the heat. I look up to find what is providing the shadow I retreated in. I’d led myself to the bathouse. My breath hitches. I am a few feet from the men’s entrance. 

My heart pounds, and I look around. My hand trails down the door on instinct, shaking as soon as it makes contact with the handle. I slink my way into the bathhouse, shoving the hefty door open and carefully shutting it behind me. My fingers run down the door handle, twisting the lock to ensure my privacy. I do my best not to make a sound, though the water running should muffle any minor noise. My heart was racing; maybe this was a mistake. 

“I’ve made it this far,” I remind myself, deciding to push onward. I could see steam billowing out above only one stall that is tucked away in the very back corner. After fetching a folded towel from a stack, I begin stripping off my clothes. Forcing the fabric into a small balled-up clump, it makes its new home for the time being on a bench near the entryway. I fasten my towel around my body and carefully make my way over to the stall in use.

Stopping just before the closed shower curtain, I kneel down, attempting to steal a peek beneath. On the pale tile flooring, I caught a glimpse of two firmly planted evergreen feet. This was undoubtedly Bur-uke. I take a deep breath, attempting to steady my shaky nerves as my fingers grip the thin fabric between us.

Flinging it open, my eyes lock onto Bur-uke for a mere moment before my vision becomes blurred. A breath escapes my throat as pressure is put against it, as well as the length of my back. Bur-uke’s gaze meets mine, and I see his eyes soften. His grip on my throat loosens, though does not completely lift. 

I straighten my spine, feeling my towel come loose with the motion. I reach for it, knowing I won’t be able to grab it in time. It hits the floor, instantly growing darker as it saturates. A sigh escapes me. I kick it over against the wall with a wet thud. My fingers find their way to the curtain once more, drawing it shut.

I make sure not to break eye contact with Bur-uke as I do this; watching his eyes widen makes my heart pound faster. He takes me in for a moment, looking me up and down with his mouth slightly agape. I make the first move, cupping his face in my hands and pulling him closer. He hesitates a moment, trying to hide his shaky breath. He plants his hands on my waist before pressing his lips against mine. 

He stumbles back a couple of steps, putting us beneath the running shower. Hot droplets of water glide down our bodies, and all the while Bur-uke hadn’t stopped kissing me. He pulls back for a breath before planting one more kiss on my lips. He begins a quick trail of kisses down my cheek, eventually burying his face at the nape of my neck. His canines once again graze my skin, provoking a strange flurry of excitement and fear. 

A hushed moan is pushed from my lips as he kisses my neck, only giving him more reason to persist. I run my fingers through his hair, settling halfway through with my other hand braced on his shoulder. His hands slide down my waist, and I feel his fingers kneading my hips for a moment. A gruff breath escapes him, and his hands travel down, cupping the back of my thighs. In one swift motion, he’d pressed me up against the wall. My legs had already found their way around his hips, and my grip on his shoulders tightened. 

His gaze was intense, and his cheeks had shifted to a darker, more vibrant green. “I missed you,” he finally says, breaking the silence between us. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” I breathe. His grip weakens for a second, and I slide down his torso. After steadying myself, something stiff finds its way between my thighs. Bur-uke readjusts me, pulling me up closer and smearing a kiss on my forehead. 

“Think you’ll be okay?” He asks, planting his hands across my haunches. He rubs against me, and I am only able to respond with a quick nod as I catch my breath. I feel his hard tip prodding and sliding up and down my slit. He lets out a breathy groan, feeling the first few inches of his member becoming slick. My fingers curl, bracing onto his shoulders as I feel him spread me. 

My gasps and groans cloud the air with the steam rolling from the hot shower. Slowly I sink onto his cock, feeling him fill me inch by inch. I do my best to force down a couple of winces, knowing I just needed time. Bur-uke presses his hips against mine, and pushes deeper into me. My knees lock up around him, and a moan escapes through my clenched teeth. 

Again, another thrust. This time a bit faster, and I feel him practically forcing against my cervix as gravity pulls me onto the base of his shaft. Another, and another. Each time my body bouncing and gliding on his. He keeps his pace, lifting me with every thrust as if I weigh nothing. 

Bur-uke lets out a breathy groan between thrusts, leaving just enough time to make me shiver before shoving his way back into me. His brows furrow, and he shudders. His hand covers most of my forearm and he gives me a small tug, forcing me to grind down further onto him.

Pain and pleasure swirls in the bottom of my stomach and I know in either way I’m pushing my limits. I pull myself up a bit, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I can only plant a few kisses on his neck before Bur-uke goes even faster. I feel tension ramping up inside of me. Each quick thrust both pushing his member deeper in me and forcing moans out of me. My shakey arms wrap around his slippery body, and I know I can’t take much more. 

“What do you want?” He asks in a silky voice. His pace slows, teasing me. 

I bite at my lip and let out a begging whine. My cheek falls to his shoulder, and I let out a huff with every leisurely thrust. His steady, rhythmic pace leaves me wondering whether it is the shower water or drool pooling on his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want,” he says, lifting me off of him. 

I can hardly think while watching him pull me off, his cock bouncing back up as soon as I am off. I try to speak, though nothing but a breathy moan rolls from my lips. He grabs my wrists, holding them both in one hand, his thumb and middle finger touching to secure his grip. My wrists are pinned behind my back and he turns me around.

“Tell me or I’m going to have to guess,” He teases, pressing me against the shower wall. Bur-uke plants a hand on one of my hips, gently kneading my skin as he lets out a breath. 

“Come on, beautiful…” he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger with his spare hand. He drifts his hand down my neck and braces it around my collarbone. He frees my hands, which find their way pressed flat against the tile. I stick my ass out more, partially to get closer to him, but also because I felt my knees grow weak for a moment. I fail to realize that with my feet now on the floor I’m exactly at ideal height. Something glides along my spine and tailbone, forcing a gulp down my throat.

He trails a finger up and down my slit, only teasing me for a moment before pressing his way in. A winey moan escapes me, though I still can’t muster a response.

“Still can’t think of anything?” He asks, starting a rhythm with his finger.. “Or don’t want to tell me?” 

My breath hitches, and my ragged breathing reveals how close I am. He moves onto two fingers, penetrating that much deeper. He picks up speed, and something builds in me.  “I don’t want you to stop until you’ve filled me,” I gasp.

“D-don’t say that,” he stutters, shocked at my response. His grip around my collar weakens, and he slides his fingers out.

“Why not? Don’t think I can take it?” I tease. My eyes widen as I feel something different pressing against my slit. 

“Are you sure?” He whispers in my ear. 

“Oh, yes,” I breathe. Bur-uke presses his body against mine, leaning over me and running his hands over my hips. One hand trails up my side and over my breast, while the other finds its way between my thighs. He slowly guides his way in, spreading me apart with his fingertips. I brace myself against the wall, eager to feel him drive his way into me. Despite how slick I was, Bur-uke still has to inch his way inside me. 

He slowly coaxes me further onto him. “I can’t keep my eyes off you… every inch of you looks so amazing” I hear him utter under his breath.  

“Every inch of you feels amazing…” I barely manage between breaths.  He holds my hips and teases his way in and out of me. Every move pushing him that much deeper, covering his member with my arousal. I feel his fingers knead deeper into my hips, and his breath was ramping. He is still for a moment, and I wonder if he is going to say something. “So tight…” he whispers and swallows. I look back, and see him mouth something. I barely make out “I can’t stop,” before feeling my cheek pushed against the cold tile a moment later. 

Pressure thrusts its way through my stomach, and the air is forced from my lungs. A small squeak conveys the slight sting deep inside me.

“S-sorry, I thought your arms were braced against the wall,” he admits, pulling halfway out. My fists had already balled up and found their place on the tile in front of me once more.

“I’m alright,” I chuckle, glancing back. I wonder how much more he would’ve done if I hadn’t hit the wall.  I find myself arching my back, and pulling myself onto him again. Those ivy-green hands find their way snugly around my waist, with his fingers nearly touching. A wave of shame and exhilaration rushes over me as I realize just how big an orc can be. I grind against him, pulling myself back until I feel his thighs against mine. 

I take a breath, feeling his full length deep inside me. He presses a tiny bit further, and I twitch around him. One of my legs flutters up for a moment and a gasp escapes me. My face is hot, and I find myself waiting for his next move. He starts a slow pace, a mix of his own thrusts and his strong hands pulling me onto his cock. 

By this point I am sure I’ve never had more fluid on my body. Between the shower, my sweat, the few tears that had rolled down my cheeks at some point, and the drool running down my chin and throat. Despite this, I still want more. I want him to use me however he wants for how long he wants, and I want him to cum on me everywhere he wants. 

He’d sped up his pace, keeping full, fast strokes while refusing to sacrifice any of his length. His breathing has become heavier, and his grunts now resembled a growl more than anything else. He was getting close, I can feel it.

A ragged breath escapes me, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. All I can focus on is his presence inside me, overflowing me with waves of pleasure and pain every thrust. Just as I’m sure I can feel him in the pit of my stomach he shifts to shorter, even faster strokes. 

His stamina seems endless, but all I could ask for right now is for him to finish before I can hardly move after this. The stimulation is far too much for me at this point, sending shocks rippling through my body with every movement. I can do nothing but take it, I could hardly keep my head from hitting the wall and my feet on the tile. Every ragged breath feels as if I were on the brink of death, but I never want it to stop.

A hand shifts from my waist to my shoulder, with a firm grip confirming what I anticipated next. He shoves his full length into me, his warm, steady body looming right over mine. He lingers deep inside me, pumping me as full as he can. He sinks his chin into the nape of my neck, planting a small kiss after catching his breath. 

He slowly eases out, quickly finding how horrible my balance has become. He catches me before I fully slip. He glances down at my legs, and I noticed his eyes widen. Bur-uke retrieves a cloth and wipes away what had been running down my leg. 

“I can clean myself, I just need a minute,” I chuckle.

“It's… it's my fault. It's the least I can do really,” he insists. He looks up at me, pausing for a moment. His eyes catch mine and I can't pull away. He slides his hands up my legs, wrapping them around the back of my thighs. I lift a wet lock of hair from his face and tuck it behind his ear. My hand trails down his jaw, and he rests his head on my chest. He lets out a small huff with a smile, and stretches for our lips to meet. 

“Let me wash you off,” he insists. I put my arms over his shoulders, lingering a moment to feel the water cascade over us. 

“You don’t need to do that…” I tell him.

“I want to. What if I let you wash me in return?” He reasons. 

I can’t help but let my eyes trail down his body. Anything to touch him again. To feel his skin against mine. I shudder. 

His touch is gentle, starting at my shoulders he massages and lathers me. Gradually working his way down, he rubs away every sore muscle and washes out any worry I may have. He reaches my legs once more, leaving a trail of suds down my hips and thighs. He suddenly averts his eyes, and grabs my hand. His grip twitches in both hands, squeezing my palm with one and spewing a jet of bubbles from the cloth in the other. He clears his throat. 

“You’re bleeding… tell me if I’m hurting you next time,” he sternly tells me. His brows furrow, and his mouth turns to a frown. 

“How can I make it up to you?” He utters. 

My heart skips a beat. I can’t answer. 

Bur-uke’s grip shifts back to my legs, only derailing to hold my haunches, seemingly on instinct. He clears his throat, focusing on the bubbles gliding down my body once more.

“You don’t need to make it up to me, everything else made up for the tiny bit of pain by comparison,” I reason, shaking my mind from all the ways he could make it up to me. 

“I insist. Maybe not now, but soon. Let's focus on getting you dried off,” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I ask, wiping a few soap suds down his chest. 

He chuckles and holds his hand over mine. He passes me the cloth, and I take great pleasure in cleaning him. Bur-uke’s burly shoulders are firm and rugged. Sunburnt skin rubbing off with ease. His face has been covered with dirt and sweat most of the sweltering day, I can’t imagine how relaxing this must feel after construction work. 

As I start to scrub his shoulder blades he lets out a relieved sigh. Over and over, I rub his back, with Bur-uke letting out small gruff moans and breaths. “I haven’t felt this clean in a long time… Ironic all things considered,” 

“You should bring me into the shower more often,” I laugh.

“Don’t test me. But we should get you out of the men’s section now, huh? Gods forbid anyone tried to shower recently,” he chuckles.

He throws a towel over my shoulders, patting me dry before putting a towel on himself. 

I tuck myself into another stall to finish drying and change into my clothes. I pull aside the thin white shower curtain to see Bur-uke waiting for me… Still in a towel. 

“Are-aren’t you going to get dressed?” I ask.

“Why would I? You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you. It’ll make it seem like we aren’t together. I’ll just be going back to my room anyway,” he shrugs. 

“People will stare,” I smile and roll my eyes. 

“Oh, and I suppose you don’t want people looking?” He raises a brow. 

My face flushes.

“If you want me all to yourself that’s all you have to say,” He smirks. 

“You know that’s not what I meant!” I sheepishly exclaim. 

“Mhm,” Bur-uke chuckles, tipping my chin up to make my eyes meet his.

I’ve never felt so small next to a man, so fragile, helpless, yet so safe. He makes my stomach flutter and my knees weak. This wasn’t intimidation, it was temptation. 

“I’ll see you sometime after we’re both changed.” He says, sounding more like an order than a request. “I understand if you’re tired, but it would be nice to have dinner with you,” he tells me, sending me off with a kiss.

#monster #fiction #fantasy #write #romance #writer #orc #orc boyfriend #orc romance #monster lover #monster romance #minors dni #size difference #dnd #dnd oc #medieval #fantasy romance

[filmtv2022]

“Together” Part 3 (Final Part)

Previous Part

All Works Masterlist

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake & Y/N face her brother's funeral together. They finally realize the true depth of their feelings for one another. 

Warnings: Smut + language + part of the story takes place at a funeral reception

A/N: So first of all, I yet again apologize for the super long break between posts. Life has been pretty crazy. I'm now currently on the mend from a rough bout of covid, but thankfully I felt good enough to write today. With that being said, I'm so sorry for any editing mistakes, my brain fog is rough right now. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the final part of the "Together" mini-series!

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A constant buzz of white noise filled your ears as people continued the awkward shuffle of condolences. They meant well, but what could they possibly have to say that would take the edge off the pain? The funeral had been everything your brother deserved, but that neatly folded flag could never replace him. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. Matt was supposed to get married and start a family of his own, but now those dreams were turned to ash. Their embers burned hot against your soul as you waited for this horrific moment in time to be over. 

Unable to take any more weepy hugs, you finally excused yourself from the reception hall, choosing instead to wander quietly through the hallways. The early evening sun poured in through the stained glass that lined the space painting a wash of red and blue across the carpet. Reaching the first set of swinging doors into the nave, you pushed gently into the space, and the hinges creaked lightly with the pressure of your touch. The high vaulted ceilings fell into shadow as the lights remained off, but even in the dimness, you could see the strong frame that was seated at the front of the pews. 

Keeping silent, you made your way toward Jake, the sound of your footsteps echoed slightly as you moved. Closing the last few paces, the tension in his body was apparent in the way his dress whites pulled tightly over his back, his head in his hands as he tried to piece himself back together. Reaching the front pew, you found the spot to his right and took it, allowing yourself to lean into his side. Acknowledging your presence, Jake lifted his head from his hands, revealing the dampness that sat on his cheeks, though his eyes remained focused on the cross hanging at the front. Needing to feel you, to be closer to you, Jake weaved your fingers together before bringing them to his lips. Placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand, he exhaled deeply before gaining the courage to speak. 

“You know what he said to me the last time we saw each other?” Jake’s voice was hoarse as he broke the silence, but you were thankful for the sound of it nonetheless.

“Tell me.” Your own words were soft as they brushed along the fabric of his uniform.

“It was our last day flying together before we were reassigned to our new squadrons. We’d finished our runs and I’d been flying out of my mind, hitting maneuvers perfectly, one right after the other, but I was reckless. I was just one mistake away from ending my career or someone else’s, but I couldn’t see that, not then. But he saw it, that foolish pride… nothing ever slipped past him.” 

“Trust me, I know. I never got away with shit as a kid.” 

Jake huffed a small laugh at the shared memory of Matt’s astute gaze and superior moral compass. His wingman’s heart never faltered, even in the face of great peril, “He laid into me in front of God and everybody. I’d never seen him so angry. He told me I needed to figure out who the hell I was fighting to come home to because if I didn’t I was gonna die in that plane, all alone with no one to care when they brought my body back.”

“He said that to you? Jesus Christ, Jake. I’m sorry he-.” 

“Don’t be, he was right. He was always right. It just took me way to fucking long to figure out what the hell he was actually talking about.” Jake twisted his upper body in your direction, forcing you to lift your head from his shoulder. His strong hands found a home on your body as he anchored himself to you. The feeling of him left you breathless, your vision narrowing to only the man in front of you. 

“He was talking about you. I didn’t get it then, I was too young and stupid to realize. He saw it though, he saw us, the two of us. Together.” Jake’s breath rattled as he inhaled deeply, “I love you, I always have. I was just too big of a dumbass to figure it out sooner.”  

“Jake.” Holding fast to him, you kept your eyes fixed on his. There was such great sorrow and pain within their depths, and yet there was unmistakable hope, “You’re not the only one who can be a bit thick sometimes.” 

The two of you shared a smile at the mutual confession of your feelings and your failings. Leaning further into your space Jake captured your lips in a gentle embrace, the sensation of your uniform under his figure tips was intoxicating. Breaking the kiss, Jake rested his forehead on yours as he breathed in the scent of your sweet perfume, his own tears now flowing harder than before. Feeling his body begin to shake, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled tight. With your face tucked into his neck, you allowed yourself to fall apart together. And there you stayed, mourning the loss of a brother and wingman. 

The rest of the evening sun faded away beneath the horizon leaving the nave in murky darkness, only the light from the outer hallway added any illumination. Sensing the shift, Jake broke and stood to his full height, taking you by the hand as he moved. Holding each other close, with laced fingers the two of you made your way back to the reception in silence. There were still a fair amount of people gathered around the tables nibbling at food as they reminisced. 

Sitting around a circular white table across the room was the rest of your family. Their eyes were fixed on the steaming styrofoam cups in front of them. It took only seconds to cross the space, but it felt as though it took hours. All eyes snapped to you and Jake, your polished uniforms like a beacon of strength and sorrow. 

“Y/N, Jake.” your mother stood, pulling each of you into vigorous hugs. Her black dress seemed to hang from her slight frame as she dabbed away the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, but Jake… this is your loss too. Matt spoke highly of you the entire time you flew together. He… he thought the world of you.” 

Jake’s throat bobbed as he tried to find his words, but they never came. Instead, he leaned down to hold your mother. The hug lasted mere seconds, but when he moved back to wrap his arm around your waist it was as if you could see the healing begin. Wiping over his mouth with his hand, Jake leaned down and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“Why don’t the two of you take off, hm? We’re gonna be awhile and you both have done more than enough today.” 

“Are you sure, Mom?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go.” her warm smile failed to reach her eyes, but there was such sincerity in her words. 

“Thanks.” 

Turning from you, her focus snapped to Jake once more, “You get her home safe, okay?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Leaning down to hug your mother one more time, you watched as she whispered something softly into his ear. A quick nod of his head accompanied the silent words. 

…

Back at home, the quiet was deafening. The plush carpet muffled each step as the two of you made your way downstairs to the guestroom. Frigid air filled the finished basement causing you to shiver as you began to unbutton the front of your uniform. 

“Here, let me.” 

Turning you around gently, Jake’s sure hands made quick work of the task. His lips brushed lovingly from the shell of your ear to the base of your throat as he pushed the jacket from your shoulders. Needing more, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you removed his hat before threading your fingers into his hair. Slowly, but surely, the pair of you removed the barriers between you. Hands and lips explored the freshly exposed skin. 

Jake’s body shuddered as you nipped lightly along the broad expanse of his chest, soothing over the marks with your tongue. Caught up in the feeling of your skin on his, Jake found himself lowering to the ground before you. Mouthing at your body as he went. Paying attention to every scar and bump left behind by the grueling demands of your job, each one a sign that you were here despite the many attempts the world had taken to tear you away from him. Running his hands along the back of your thighs, he stood once more, pulling you off the ground with him. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you returned your attention to his lips. Pleading for more, you ran your tongue along his before taking his lower lip between your teeth. Gently, you pulled it earning a hiss and groan from him before he crashed back into the kiss. Walking you back into the door, it slammed shut with the force of his actions. The two of you lasted like this for a few minutes more, but desperation filled the air as the two of you continued to fall into the moment. 

Unable to maintain his patience, Jake fixed his grip on you before turning to find the bed. Feeling the edge of the bed against his knees, he lowered you to the mattress. Breaking apart, Jake guided you back onto the bed, the cotton of the bedspread soft beneath you. 

“Jake.” Your words failed you, but that didn’t matter because he was already there, reading your body like an open book. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

Sliding his hand along your side, he trapped your wrist above your head, leaving the other free. Chest to chest you breathed in the scent of his cologne as rolled his hips into yours. A sharp gasp fell from you, your lips grazing his as your head tipped back into the pillow. 

“I need you.” Jake rasped into your ear and she reached between you coaxing yet another moan from you as his fingers found their mark. 

“Fuck, Jake… please.” 

Your permission opened the floodgates. Dipping lower Jake coated his fingers with your slick, teasing your mercilessly until he could feel the muscles in your legs begin to tighten. Knowing you were close he removed his hands from your body, earning a pitiful whimper from you at the loss of his touch. 

“I know, baby.”  

Carefully, he leaned over the edge of the bed, fishing inside his bag for a condom. It took only a few seconds for him to locate what he needed, his eyes falling back to you as he tore it open and prepared himself. Turning back to you he placed tender kisses over your stomach and chest before returning to your lips. There was no real space left between you, but it wasn’t enough, you needed to be closer. Reaching for the hand that still rested above your head, he laced his fingers through yours as he pushed inside, removing the remaining distance between you. A deep groan fell from his lips as he relished the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Slowly, Jake began to move, his focus entirely on you. The way your breath hitched, the sound of your moans as they tumbled from your lips, the touch of your skin as your bodies moved together. Once more he felt the changes in you as he pulled you closer to the edge. Fighting for control of himself, Jake continued to focus on you, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever, lost in this peace that he found with you. 

Time stood still as the flood of your release washed over you. Jake’s hips began to stutter, his pace faltering as he too tumbled over the edge. Totally, and completely, spent, Jake rested his weight on his forearms next to your head. Brushing the strands of hair stuck to your forehead behind your ear, his eyes fell on yours. Even in the shadowy light of the guestroom, it was easy to see the love in his eyes. The corners scrunch softly forming light lines. Those lines were a permanent reminder of the years that had passed since the two of you first met. 

“I love you, Jake.” your warm breath floated over his cheeks as the stared deep into your eyes, your soul laid bare for him and him alone. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Feeling his arms grow weak from dropping adrenaline, Jake rolled onto his side taking you with him. Sure that you were safely laying on your side, he gingerly pulled himself from you. It took a few minutes for him to clean the two of you up, but Jake returned to his spot in the bed as quickly as he could. The warmth radiating from the two of you was more than enough initially to fend off the chill of the air, but as your heart rates returned to normal goosebumps began to spread across your skin. A shiver ran down your spine from the temperature change. Shifting under the covers, he drew you in close, his hand resting just under your breast as his front fell flush with your back. Inhaling deeply, your breaths began to fall in sync with one another, the two of you drifting off to sleep in the comfort of each other’s arms. This was the beginning of a whole new world, one where the pair of you would finally allow yourself to feel the happiness of time spent in one another arms. A world where you realized that you were stronger together than you ever could hope to be apart. 

#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman smut #hangman x reader #hangman smut