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little-diable · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 27 – Aaron Hotchner

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

🩶 Day 27 🩶 hate sex

Warnings: 18+, piv, Aaron's an asshole, degrading

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (1.2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

My Kinktober Masterlist

“Absolutely not.” Aaron Hotchner’s rough voice echoed through the room the local sheriff had assigned the team, allowing them to work in silence, away from the busy police station. His dark eyes were staring her down, eyebrows furrowed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Excuse me? Are you trying to keep me from doing my job, sir?” Her voice had a sharp undertone to it, giving him a clear warning, making his frown deepen. She felt the eyes of the others on her, watching the heated exchange with worry laced in their gazes, even though they were all too used to (y/n) and Aaron’s bickering.

“Your job is to protect those that need our help. Your job is to find those that do all these crimes. Your job is not whoring yourself out to try and follow a lead we aren’t even sure of yet, just because you’re desperate for some attention.” For a few seconds they were engulfed by nothing but silence, but while (y/n) tried to keep her tears from welling up in her eyes, disgusted by the angry words her boss had just spoken, a loud “Hotch, what the fuck man, stop!” had left Derek, momentarily distracting Aaron.

(Y/n) stormed out of the room without another warning, set on chasing the ever growing distance between her and her boss. Only as she found shelter in the SUV did she allow her tears to roll down her cheeks, one by one, guided by her bottled up frustration, by her anger, and by her heartbreak. She hated Aaron Hotchner more than she had ever hated somebody, and yet a part of her couldn’t help but long for him, wanting to feel the tall, brooding man close once again.

With a shaky breath leaving her, (y/n) wiped her tears away, starting the SUV with trembling hands before she started to drive back to the hotel, needing to take a few hours to herself before she could join the team once again. Fuck Aaron Hotchnner and his stuck up self. To hell with him and the awfully annoying crush she fostered to him.

……

The sound of impatient knocking filled her hotel room, eyes drawn from her phone. She took her time, deep down already knowing who it was. With a sigh leaving her, (y/n) opened the door, gasping as Aaron’s hands shot out to cup her cheeks, pulling her in for a teeth clashing kiss they had shared one too many times to count.

No words were spoken as he invited himself into the room, not breaking the kiss once as he guided her to the bed, set on fucking her with his name leaving her over and over again. Aaron’s hands impatiently tugged on her trousers, just as hers started to move, urged on by the whirlwind of emotions the mere sight of Aaron pushed through her system.

“I hate you, you’re such an asshole.” (Y/n) murmured the words against his lips, being pushed back onto the mattress as a raspy chuckle left Aaron. His hands pulled her trousers down her legs, panties following moments later before he undressed himself. Aaron towered over her, an all too familiar sight, a sight she’d get to relish in whenever they were on a case, a case that either left them feeling lonely or fuming with their hatred for one another.

“And what does that make you? Your body craves my touch, you’re my whore, my toy.” The degrading words left her walls clenching around nothing, drawing a moan from her as he spat down on her folds, mixing his saliva with her arousal. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest, guided by the feeling of his thick fingers pushing her walls apart, forcing himself deeper and deeper into her tightness.

Aaron fucked her with her fingers, set on a ruthless pace that matched the movements of his thumb, rubbing her pulsing bundle of nerves. Moans and groans were forced from her, sounds that rang in his ears, sounds so sweet he felt his cock twitching impatiently, knowing that neither one of them wanted to waste any more time, always set on keeping their time together short and limited.

“Just fuck me, Aaron, hurry up.” Her words were fuelled by her anger, and yet they dripped with need, a mixture that left him growling, pulling his hand from her only to replace his fingers with his cock. Their eyes held contact as he pushed into her, leaving her groaning at the too familiar stretch, set on feeling him as close as possible.

He fucked her with a merciless pace, making bruises form on her body and soul, forever etching this moment into her mind. (Y/n) clawed at his back, leaving scratches on his skin, drawing blood from the parts she clung to. They were tangled in a mess they won’t ever be able to untangle, forever interlaced with their anger guiding them.

“I won’t let you go, I won’t push you close to him, you’re mine, no matter how much you think you may hate me.” Aaron’s words pushed her closer to the edge she was crawling towards, desperate for her release, for the sweetest sensation only he managed to push through her system. She felt his calloused fingertips rubbing her clit, just enough to make her toes curl and her back arch against his front.

Their lips met for another bruising kiss, a kiss that left both moaning, knowing they wouldn’t last much longer. And yet neither of them wanted to end this very moment, wanting to stay connected like this, away from the world outside, away from the act they had to keep up whenever the team was around. An act that left both their hearts bleeding as their minds clung to the hatred they felt.

She came with a cry of his name, burying her fingernails in his shoulders as Aaron fucked her through her high, pulling away to paint her lower stomach with his cum. Both kept looking at one another for a few more moments before Aaron rose to his feet, putting on his underwear without any word leaving him. He disappeared for a few seconds, allowing (y/n) to catch her breath, watching him reappear with a wet towel.

He cleaned her all too carefully before he pressed one last kiss to her swollen lips, a lingering kiss that forced them to part with a sigh, and as she watched him leave her room, she couldn’t help but yearn for him, wondering if they’d ever get over their game, the act filled with hatred.

#Aaron Hotchner smut #little-diable kinktober23 #Aaron Hotch imagine #criminal minds imagine

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garoujo · 2 years

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AHHHHH IM SO HAPPU YOULL WRITE IT!!!! Could you make it soft/suggestive? Like, I don't want him to aggressively squeeze the throat, just pull y/n into him and the make out 🤗🤗

That's so exciting!!! Btw, I hope you have a nice day today even though you're working. Kisses!!💘💘

・✶ ｡ﾟ baji doesn’t take too kindly to teasing him with kisses.

warnings — f!reader, teasing, making out an ass smack, very minor choking. ngl i totally half wrote a thirst w him n then was like help it’s sfw >//< so i hope u enjoy this anyway nonnie . ‘m sorry it’s so short <3 based off baji’s appearance in the 270 leaks.

you should’ve known that baji wouldn’t take you teasing him with kisses very well, he was a man who you could very rarely deny yourself — always giving into him whenever he sent you a wild look with a grin that matched.

but that doesn’t mean it was going to stop you, you still thought it would at least be amusing.

you meet him in the doorway when he comes back from his day, just so you can turn to skip away when he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, leaning in for a kiss before his eyes narrow at your now retreating figure. but he doesn’t say anything. he lets you, never trying again for another kiss, so instead you decide to try even harder— making your way up to the man before placing your hands against his chest, leaning into ghost his lips before pulling away again.

but you feel his fingers grab gently around the base of your neck when you’re a little too slow, pulling you back before you can retreat too far. baji smirks as he tilts your head towards his own, leaning in teasingly just like you had— lips ghosting yours but never closing the distance as he holds your gaze. “don’t tease me, princess.”

his voice a smooth drawl as he teases you, moving slightly to place a few kisses to the side of your lips before they’re travelling down your jawline to your neck as his other hand rests on your lower back, tracing smooth shapes into the skin underneath your shirt and keeping your chest pressed again his.

but just when your lips part to whine, baji closes the distance and licks into your mouth with a hunger that makes your head spin, fingering twitching and tightening against your skin before he’s pulling you closer and letting his tongue graze along your own. but just as quickly as you begin to melt with the dizzy spin in your mind mixed with his mouth, he pulls away — chuckling before turning to leave you with a smack to your ass and a cocky smirk.

“y’done being a brat now, baby?”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev fluff #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #baji x reader #baji fluff

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fieldbears · 18 days

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Person of Interest fic snippet

I'm thinking about the opportunity for a ton of OCs, to inject some more "New York" into this New York-centered show, and also how Fusco is the underrated queen of this whole outfit. Anywhere here's something that may not go anywhere:

--------

Fusco's balancing the two shopping bags, the pastry bag, and the cup of coffee, so he uses his shoulder to push the shop door open and edge inside. The place is even smaller than it looked from the street. Crammed full too. It could be one of those seek-and-find books he used to look at with Lee.

"Welcome, please don't let the storm in," someone says from the back room.

"Yeah," Fusco mutters. With nobody else around, he lets the shopping bags plunk onto the floor with a noisy metallic clatter and finally sets the coffee and pastry bag on top of the nearest display cabinet. Under the glass, pretty much what he expected: men's watches, rings, cuff links, a mixed bag of stuff all crowded together. Whenever Lionel's gone into one of the really high-end shops after they get knocked over, he always sees the displays are kind of spread out from each other, like they don't have enough merchandise to fill the place. One bracelet, then the matching necklace, the earrings, and a long walk before you got to the next stuff.

"The door," someone says pointedly, and Fusco looks over - it hadn't fully closed behind him. The gale winds are still going. Okay, fair. He should have noticed it hadn't gotten any quieter.

"Sorry." Remembering he's supposed to be making a good impression, he pushes it shut without slamming it and gives the handle a little pull to make sure it's really shut right. When he turns back, a woman much younger than he expected is easing herself onto the stool behind the counter. "You're Francesca Cattaneo?"

"Yes." Her accent's faint, but she does sound like she grew up around here. Early thirties, dark hair to her shoulders, a bit of muscle tone, but otherwise very wiry. Dark clothes. She looks less like she should run a hole-in-the-wall jewelry and watch repair shop and more like she should be working in the coffee place he just came from.

Or, maybe, she should have Finch's job. They could switch places pretty perfectly. He'd fit in perfectly here.

"Can I help you?" She's looking down at the stuff he's put down on her counter, clearly wishing he hadn't.

"Those are yours, actually." Fusco says with his chest out a bit. "Kind of a peace offering from the department."

Cattaneo's brows come together immediately - Finch warned him about this. "You're with the NYPD?"

"Detective Fusco." He holds his hand out. She takes it and shakes it in a way that means she is only doing it because leaving him hanging would be even more uncomfortable for her. No ground gained yet, he can see.

"You're the new guy on burglaries?"

"I'm... pitching in." Fusco see-saws his hand. "We're short staffed right now, if you haven't heard."

Her expression softens a little and she lets out a gust of air. "Yeah. Congratulations on getting some really bad apples out of there." When he waits for a moment, she finally looks back down at the pastry bag, nudging it open with a finger and then glancing on the scribbles on the side of the cup. Her brows come back together. "How-?"

"I just went across the street and asked for whatever the watch lady always gets." Fusco shrugs. "They seem to like you over there. Perked up when I said I was bringing this over."

Francesca has a look like she needed to go have a talk with these loose-lipped baristas. Man, like a croissant and a mocha are personal information - this woman's clearly interested in her privacy, at least from cops.

"I heard," Fusco says delicately, "that your friendly working relationship with Detective Paola fell apart when he started hassling your customers." He says it in a way that doesn't directly trash talk a fellow man in uniform, but also doesn't defend that piece of shit.

"Hassling is really an understatement. Wait. Was Paola part of HR?" She leans in with clear interest. It sounds like she'd feel seriously vindicated if he was.

"He married and settled down in Wilmington a few years ago, so I doubt it." Wanting to give her some satisfaction, though, he adds, "I never knew the guy personally... but he really had a reputation for how he felt about anyone who'd done time. Real 'once a crook, always a crook' kind of attitude." Which, the less said about Fusco's history in relation to that mindset, the better.

Rebecca looks at him one more time before pulling the croissant out of the bag and beginning to eat it. Between bites and behind her hand, she asks, "So what're you asking for?"

"Same deal as we used to have." Fusco puts his hands up. "We bring 'em in, you check 'em out. No subpoenas, no paperwork, just a first glance from the local expert. Five dollars for each, right?"

"I mean, yeah," Her eyes dart over to a large laminated poster with prices, "but I never charged you guys." A moment passes. "Was Paola saying I charged him? Was he getting reimbursed?"

Fusco leans back a little. Thinks back to the reports he reviewed. "That little fuck."

Francesca stares at him a moment, and then barks out a laugh. It seems to clear some of the tension between them - okay, maybe this will work out. Fusco bends over and lifts up the black shopping bag, and when she gestures for him to, he tips its contents delicately as he can onto the counter. Nine men's watches altogether, in a messy little pile. She doesn't put her croissant down, eating with one hand and scooting the watches into two piles with the other.

Fusco's already forgotten which belong to Glasses and which ones he grabbed from the evidence locker, but it looks like Francesca here is figuring it out pretty fucking fast. Or at least, she's got confidence. Once four watches are in one pile and five are in the other, she ignores the far pile and picks one of the other ones back up to hold to the light and admire.

"I'm glad you're helping me out, here, Ms. Cattaneo, but I can't be here all day."

Her lips quirk to the side in disappointment. She puts one down and picks up another - they all look mostly the same to Lionel. Some have metal straps, some leather, that's really it. "You seem nice, Detective, so I'm gonna give you some friendly advice - if you want to test me again, if all the legit ones are owned by the same collector, that means they're all sized the same." She taps down at what must be the 'Finch' pile she keeps picking things out of and ogling. "This guy has great taste. A Rolex, expected, but a good choice of one. And a La Cloche, I don't get to see many of those around here."

"Uh huh." Lionel pulls out his phone and takes a quick photo of the piles and texts it back to Finch. "So in about twenty seconds, you've really confirmed which are real and which are fakes? That's what you're saying?"

"The band circumferences are a giveaway, but hypothetically this medium-wristed guy could've gotten scammed once, or, you know, some people intentionally have knockoffs in their collection..." She leans on her elbow and picks up one of the fake-pile watches out with one finger, letting it dangle like it's trash. "This is a knockoff Versace watch. What a pointless fucking thing. It's a quartz movement to begin with."

All Greek to him. Fusco's phone beeps, and he checks the text: 100% accurate, Finch is confirming.

Well, shit. Maybe this woman really was some kind of savant who could help. "Okay, that was nine watches, so it's forty-five bucks on my tab so far? Let's go one more round before I cash out." He swipes the watches back into the black bag and pulls up the second one, tips it out - the ladies' watches are a little more glittery, a little more petite-looking, otherwise pretty similar. Something about the pile seems to interest her almost immediately.

"Okay, okay." She leans in and picks up a few up in turn. "Last bag, that was one multimillionaire guy's collection combined with a bag of halfhearted Chinese knockoff trash you could by for $20 on the street. This is..." She puts two to the side and picks up a third, turning it over and staring at the back for a while and then focusing back on the face. "All the same collection. A woman... who is not as rich as the first guy, but she's still loaded."

So far, correct, but not an impressive cold read quite yet. Fusco lets her paw through the stuff and hold things up to the light, pull out a magnifying thing, the works.

"She started collecting in the late 90s - this early '70s Cartier is a outlier, it was probably a hand-me-down from mom or someone, so I'd guess she was born into money. Decent taste. Just like the first guy, she's not flaunting it, she just has really, really good shit. Buuuuut..." She holds one with a big diamond-studded face away from her a moment, then brings it back in. "Yeah, I recognize some of these."

"Recognize?" Fusco echoes. Doesn't she recognize practically all of them? Doesn't her weird jeweler brain clearly have some sort of database of every watch ever made?

Cattaneo sighs and seems kind of bummed out. She sets two aside, then glares another down and makes it the third. Then a fourth. Then she pulls out her own phone, takes a photo, and presumably texts it to someone.

"You phoning a friend on these?"

Cattaneo points to the pile. "I know Dan Nowak, he runs a place downtown. You know him?"

He runs one of the bigger pawn shops. Cops are in there all the time about stolen shit. Dan usually seems exhausted about it. "Yeah, I know him."

"Well, least last week when I saw him," she lines the four watches up toward Lionel, "he had three of these in his main display case." She waits a second, then continues. "Like, these exact models. The legit versions."

Fusco's starting to get the picture. "You're saying you think someone stole some of this woman's collection and replaced them with knockoffs?"

Francesca shrugs and sighs. "Does she have a new partner? Maybe a house cleaner, but it's usually a partner. Someone who can get near her jewelry and whatever else when she's not around?"

Fusco thinks Reese mentioned something about a girl their number had been going steady with for a few months, but this is only circumstantial evidence, and getting caught stealing your girlfriend's valuables isn't necessarily going to lead to a life-threatening circumstance. "You said some people buy fakes on purpose, though."

"It'd be a real coincidence if she'd always only had these fakes, and the real versions are all in the same pawn shop cabinet. Less than five miles from where a cop is coming and showing me these fakes."

Yeah, okay. "And it's not possible she's got money problems and took them over to Dan herself?"

Francesca tilts her head. "It's possible," she allows, "and I've seen it happen, but. It's usually less mega-rich folks. And when it does happen, they usually didn't have the time or interest in buying top-tier fakes to replace them." She glances at his expression. "Listen." She softens her tone a bit. "Watches, diamond earrings, these things get thrown at people like me or Dan all the time when shit goes wrong and someone needs money fast. This woman," she taps the good pile, "I'd be real surprised if she needed money fast. And if she did, and she wanted so badly to replace every good watch she sold... those fakes shipped to her from China really freaking quick. What would make way more sense in my experience is that someone got her trust, researched her collection, invested a couple hundred bucks in buying copies of every single watch you showed me that currently has solid fakes for sale... and swapped them out as soon as they had those fakes in hand."

"You see this happen a lot," Fusco hazards.

"Not a lot a lot," she admits. "It's a long-term gig and you gotta put down some decent money for the fakes before you can make money selling the legit ones. That only makes financial sense if you're putting down, I don't know," she gestures dismissively. "Two or three hundred dollars per fake so that you can flip a ten thousand dollar watch, fifteen, something like that."

"Each of these little things is that much?"

"Or more." Francesca picks up the old-fashioned one. "Major brands only ever appreciate in value... so 70's Cartier here is worth more than your car and mine put together, I'd bet."

"Jesus."

"You said it." She pulls out a small unbranded paper bag with twine handles and sweeps the legit watches into it, handing it back. "Ten of these and nine from the other bag, nineteen times five is ninety five bucks. Let's call it ninety since you got me a snack."

"What, no tax?"

"You wanna pay tax?"

Lionel pulls out his wallet.

#person of interest #lionel fusco #ficbears #i just think he's neat #don't buy versace watches

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sass-squat · 1 year

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Do the Avians stick to their main outfits or do they mix it up? What are their cozy/relaxing clothes?

Excellent question my friend! I would say that for the most part all the Links generally just stick to their usual outfits. This is mainly because the chain is almost always traveling/on the road and their "canon" outfits are much more suited for adventuring then any other alternatives. However, their "everyday" clothes have been modified to have slits in the back to allow for their wings to slip through while still not compromising the integrity of their armor/chainmail underneath. In other words, there aren't really any major changes to their main outfits aside from having thin holes in the back to make room for their wings.

As for the Links cozy/relaxing clothes? They all have their own interpretations of what cozy or relaxing means for them, so I'm just going to group them into 3 general categories that I think they would be in.

Shirtless Gang:

Time - Listen, Time walks around in a suit of armor all the time so pretty much anything else could be considered cozy/relaxing clothes compared to that.🤣 But this man has some MASSIVE wings so I believe that he enjoys clothes that give him the chance to free them and let them breathe easier. Because of this, I would say his standard for "comfortable" would probably either be just a loose tunic or just some regular pants and no shirt.

Twilight - Like Time, this man works on a ranch and likes to wrestle Gorons for fun. Because of this, and definitely not because I'm a simp I believe he's very accustomed to working shirtless and so his definition of "cozy" clothes is honestly just sitting around shirtless in some comfy pants.

Warriors - I don't even have a proper justification for why I believe this man walks around shirtless I just feel it in my soul. He's a very very pretty man and I'm selfish and a simp and I want to see him shirtless. But in all seriousness, Warriors wears a LOT of layers all the time so I just want him to be able to take some off and relax a little bit.

Sweatpants/Pajamas Squad:

Sky - Look me in the eye and tell me that this man wouldn't wear cozy clothes like pajamas and the Zelda equivalent of a hoodie and sweatpants. Sky just gives off such warm, SUNny (pun intended) vibes and I believe he deserves cozy clothes that match that same energy.

Hyrule - This boy deserves all the love in the world and if I could give him the equivalent of a snuggie hoodie I would. Plus I can just 100% see him doing that thing where he forces Legend or Wind or just another member of the chain to share the same hoodie with him.🤣 He is basically the walking equivalent of the, "Get Along Shirt" meme and I will die on this hill.

Wind - There's literally an option in Wind Waker for him to be able to go through his entire adventure in basically his pajamas and for that reason I believe his cozy clothes are just a casual long sleeved shirt and pants. He also just seems like the kind of guy that can and would kill a grown man while in his pajamas and I love that for him.

Shorts/Tanktop Team:

Legend - Legend gives off baggy shirt and shorts vibes. I know he doesn't wear pants but listen...shorts don't count as pants. Give this boy his t-shirt and boxers combination please.

Wild - Wild could honestly fit in any one of these categories because he seems pretty easy to please when it comes to clothing. However, when it comes to relaxing I believe he prefers a casual tanktop and shorts combination because it allows his wings and feathers to breathe while still covering some of his many scars.

Four - Listen, Four is a pretty practical kind of guy so I think he really appreciates the mobility and freedom that a simple tanktop and shorts provide. Plus, I feel like whenever he has the chance he likes to run and crawl around talking to the Minish/Picori and shorts and a tanktop aren't as easy to get grass stains on.

Anyways I hope this answered your questions friend! As always, these are my personal interpretations but feel free to tell me what ideas you have for all the boys! Thank you again for you question!

#winged au #LUWAU #linkeduniverse #linked universe #legend of zelda #loz #loz link #lu time #lu twilight #lu sky #lu warriors #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu four #lu wind #One eternity later and I'm finally responding to this #But in all seriousness this was such a cute fluffy question and now I have the urge to draw the boys being all soft

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fandomsimagined · 2 years

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Opposites Attract (Scara x Reader x Tartaglia)

Summary: Tartaglia doesn’t really think that his roommate’s girlfriend is a good match for him. She’d be much better with someone else... like himself.

Pairing: Scaramouche x FemReader, (one-sided) Tartaglia x FemReader

Warning: Slight obsession, pretty toxic relationship, language and slight smuttiness. I mean it’s Scara and Tartaglia?

A/N: Scaramouche has me in a chokehold right now. The brain rot is real and I'm not mad about it? please feel free to send me your thoughts on this amazing man that I am so ready for to come home!

Tartaglia knows that it's normal for couples to be different, they are different people after all and you know, opposites attract and all that. Still, surely two people need to have something in common right? But for as much time as he’s spent observing the ‘happy couple’, he doesn’t think he’s found a single thing (Y/N) and Scaramouche seem to share.

Honestly, Tartaglia has been trying to figure it out since the day he met (Y/N) and realized she was in a relationship with Scaramouche. It’s a bit of an embarrassing memory, because he laughed in her face, literally, when she told him. He really thought it was a joke until he saw the tears welling up in her eyes and he heard his roommate berate him for making his girlfriend cry. In Tartaglia’s defense he had been living with Scaramouche for months and he couldn’t recall a single time that he’d heard him mention another person’s name with anything but disgust. When he brought that fact up Scaramouche simply told him that it was “none of your fucking business.”

Thankfully, (Y/N) was quick to forgive him. That was the first real instance of Tartaglia noticing a huge difference in personalities between the two and thinking that they seemed off. Since then he’s had somewhat of a weird obsession with figuring out exactly how mismatched they truly were.

The second time was nothing special, but he still remembers it as if it were. A pretty boring day at work mixed with a healthy dose of seasonal depression that January usually brought had left him feeling weighed down by the monotony his job held at times. Truthfully he was actually looking forward to going home and picking a stupid fight with Scaramouche over nothing. It was hardly a productive way to blow off steam, but if he were being completely honest the competitive nature Tartaglia had always made him somewhat enjoy arguments. His mood only further soured when he made it back to his apartment and he walked in to see (Y/N) cuddled up on the couch to Scaramouche and him looking as indifferent as ever.

Tartaglia had made a pretty bad first impression. Sure, they hadn’t had any more unpleasant run-ins since then, still he was enough of a gentleman to think twice about subjecting her to one of their screaming matches that turned volatile pretty quickly. Change of plans then, he’d just walk by and head to his bedroom and be miserable. It was not part of his plan to catch (Y/N)’s gaze and he surely didn’t plan on her asking if he was okay. He reassured her he was fine with a nod and a smile, honestly appreciative of the kind gesture he wasn’t normally met with there.

The third time actually was a bit special, namely because it was a holiday and therefore more notable of a date. Valentine’s Day to be exact. (Y/N) bounced in happily with two neatly wrapped gift boxes in her hand. He could vividly remember the way her smile fell whenever she presented Scaramouche with the chocolates she’d spent archons knows how long she’s spent preparing. “We literally said no gift last week.”

“Oh, well… I thought it might be okay since I didn’t buy anything-” Her voice was so small and Scaramouche didn’t respond with anything but an exhausted sigh as he took the box from her hands.

He did pop a small piece of chocolate in his mouth and smirk at the way she perked up at the simple action though. “I'm getting my coat. Be ready to go when I get back.”

She was smiling again by the time she turned to Targalia and handed him the second, slightly smaller box, “It’s not much, but Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Scaramouche may have gotten a small smile as he covertly snuck a piece of the candies she prepared. But she beamed when Tartaglia freely gave her praise and eagerly ate a few pieces. She even giggled a little when he let her know that if Scaramouche wasn’t willing to spoil her on Valentine’s Day next year he would do it without hesitation if she promised another box of chocolate.

After that Tartaglia couldn’t help but start to think that HE would make a much better match for (Y/N) than her current boyfriend. But, by the fourth instance, Tartaglia was absolutely sure. His keys hit the counter with a quiet clink and thud as he threw them haphazardly and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He headed towards the living room and stopped in his tracks when he spotted (Y/N) on their couch. She wiped her puffy eyes quickly when she saw him and offered him an unconvincing smile and wave. “You okay?”

“Yeah! I’m fine, I’m just waiting on Scara to get back.”

“Oh okay… he just left you here?” Tartaglia wasn’t sure how to word it without sounding so harsh, but he hoped his soft tone helped.

“Yeah. He shouldn’t be too long. Funny story, actually, I was supposed to pick up something for him on my way here, but I completely forgot. He just went by himself since it was important and he was already late to get it. I didn’t want to slow him down or anything so it was just best if I waited here.” The chuckle she let out was absolutely pathetic and he winced a little thinking of the conversation that actually occurred instead of her sugarcoated version. “If I’m in your way or anything I can go wait somewhere else though?”

“No, of course not. In fact, mind if I wait with you? I was just planning on watching last night’s game, it’d be way more fun with a pretty girl beside me.” Tartaglia flashed a charming grin and plopped down beside her when she nodded.

He almost forgot about Scaramouche’s existence until he returned and (Y/N) jumped up, apologies at the ready and waiting the second he closed the door behind him. That left a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, but not as much as listening to Scaramouche detailing what she could do to properly apologize to him.

She bid Tartaglia a goodnight with a flustered expression on her face. Cute, even if it was due to a man that he was now sure didn’t deserve to see it. But that was okay for now. Tomorrow would be a new day, a day where Tartaglia would start to open her eyes to the horrible matchup that was her and her current boyfriend.

Tartaglia’s plan was… working? He was definitely getting closer to (Y/N). Conversations and playful flirting coming easily every time he saw her. Unfortunately his efforts didn’t seem to be driving the wedge between her and Scaramouche that he hoped. He was also starting to get the suspicion that Scaramouche was starting to catch on, if his more frequent glares were any indication.

His suspicion was confirmed soon enough and his jaw almost hit the floor when he saw them. Tartaglia’s eyes locked with Scaramouche’s, the smug grin on his face let him know that their meeting in the living room was no accident. Tartaglia swallowed hard as his eye drifted downwards to where (Y/N) was settled between his knees, completely bare and bobbing her head seemingly unaware of his presence.

He should retreat. Turn right around and walk back out the front door and try to forget what he saw, or head to his bedroom and try to rub one out. Still he stayed glued to the floor watching with bated breath as Scaramouche tangled his hand in her hair and yanked her off of him. The whine she let out was sinful and Tartaglia could feel his jeans tighten just a bit, “Come on, Scara..”

“Sorry, baby, looks like we’ve been interrupted.” Scaramouche twisted her head so she could get a clear view of their intruder. Tartaglia’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when they met (Y/N)’s. She seemed to be just as shocked as him and scrambled for a throw blanket on the couch to cover herself, while Scaramouche didn’t bother trying to move in the slightest. Apologies spewed from her mouth like water from an ornate fountain. Scaramouche did very little to hide his amusement.

“No need to apologize. He walked in on us, and besides, looks like he enjoyed himself.”

Tartaglia watched as her eyes flitted to his crotch and quickly back up to his eyes like she was trying to hide the fact she was confirming her boyfriend’s claims. He guessed it was his turn to apologize, “Sorry, I was just-”

“Just what? Getting a good look before you got off on watching my girlfriend?” Scaramouche chuckled when he saw Tartaglia’s jaw twitch and face flushed. His attention then turned back to (Y/N), “Looks like I was right, huh? I told you he spends too much time fawning over what he can’t have. You know what though… I'm feeling kind of generous today. Maybe we could throw him a bone and let him watch just this once.”

Tartaglia was ashamed of how quiet he was, how uncharacteristically meek he was being. Still, he stayed glued to his spot and watched (Y/N). He wasn’t stupid enough to think that her bastard of a boyfriend didn’t have this entire thing planned. Tartaglia was pretty sure that (Y/N) was just along for the ride, and he could only hold that she might just have some mercy on him. She looked at him and then turned back to Scaramouch, “Umm… I guess that would be okay, if that’s what you want to do…”

Scaramouche scoffed at the relieved look on his roommate’s face and even muttered something on the lines of him being pathetic. Normally, Tartaglia would be ready to fight and defend his own honor, but he did feel pathetic at the moment and he could always punch him after… Then, a wicked grin spread across Scaramouche’s face, “First things first though. If you want something from me, you beg for it.”

#scaramouche #scaranation #scaramouche smut #yandere genshin x reader #yandere tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche x reader #genshin smut

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callimaria · 2 years

Note

hi!!! I am here with a request !! i rarely see any love for murro!! And i love him sm

could I please request murro x adoring and socially inept reader (or s/o) 😍😍

THANK U FOR UR TIME

murroses are red, violets are blue… wait

warnings: none

characters: murro

murro, time and time again, was always surprised whenever you laid your eyes on him; gazing at him with pure adoration. it wasn’t like you two were strangers, no, you had gotten quite close since you entered the manor for the first time.

yet that part was a surprise, too, as you were completely overwhelmed at the start. new, fresh faces everywhere, an eclectic mix of eccentric personalities—you shut down almost instantly, locked away in your room, reviewing your own decision to come to the manor.

though as time went by, slowly, you grew comfortable enough to get out of your room, attend dinner without having the friendly gardener—you learned her name was emma—bring you meals, and after that you even managed to start talking to those you found pleasant enough.

💗💗💗

the first time you met murro was when you were teamed up together with two other survivors, (frankly, you had not a clue what their names were, and they looked too intimidating to ask) waiting for your match to start.

the room was silent, leaving you to fiddle with your fingers, clearly uncomfortable in your chair. murro was seated next to you, hand trailing over the back of his boar companion, visibly calmed.

in all honesty, his boar intrigued you as it became clear there was a connection between them, like a bond. you had always wanted to voice your thoughts, maybe even get just a single remark in there, but you always froze, the words stuck on the tip of your tongue.

looking around, the atmosphere had slightly changed, alerting you that it was almost time. if it was almost time, then perhaps you could finally get a word out; you thought, turning to look at the man. gripping onto your seat, you cringed.

“u-uh..” you began, stammering. he looked up, staring at you with an expression you were too nervous to analyze, but he looked like he was willing to hear you out.

“i think your boar’s very cool,” you said, sweating. it wasn’t the best execution, but it was less embarrassing than you thought it would be.

his companion responded before he had the chance to, with a little gurgle and a small tilt of its head.

unfortunately, the match started immediately after that, whisking everyone away—leaving you to wonder what his reply would have been.

💗

perhaps, after that moment, it spurred you on to do your best in that match. pulling off a kite you thought you wouldn’t, managing to avoid being shocked by a cipher—it really shocked you, the sudden motivation taking charge of your body.

you were ecstatic at a well deserved win, especially when you had been stuck on a losing streak. it ground down on your confidence, but you persevered—considering you had nothing else to do in the manor, besides your hobbies—and this win felt refreshing.

you shied away from your teammates, struggling to not smile, when you noticed murro muttering something to his little companion.

he radiated a bit of pride and happiness, and you stopped in your tracks to wonder if he had lost quite a few matches before too. lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed he was staring back at you.

“the others went back to the manor,” murro supplied helpfully, “are you going?”

snapping out of it, you felt embarrassed. (you had no idea you were glaring daggers into him, you were simply spacing out, really)

“oh—! uh.. yes. right.” rushing forwards, you heard the boar snort a bit, him following along.

you kept your head down, unnerved by the silence. it was only the slightest bit awkward, but to you, it felt even more awkward.

though, as it became clear you two weren’t going to talk or bother each other; the trek back was filled with comfortable silence.

💗💗💗

“why do— why would you remember that?!” you cried, flustered. you covered your ears with your hands, hoping to block out the man’s voice.

he only laughed, his boar chiming in with an awfully specific noise you couldn’t bother to pin down as a grunt or snort.

“i remember the entire match, see— it was a good one,” he paused, smiling.

“it was great. i saved you a few times, didn’t i? like i was your own prince.”

despite your initial agony upon remembering how ‘weird’ you were then, your eyes can’t help but twinkle when you gaze at him.

“yes, murro— but you always save me like a prince..

“except for last match, where you fumbled and got caught yourself.”

you were so lucky to have an odd fellow like him.

GOD I HAD TO SCOUR HIS WIKI SO MANY TIMES IN FEAR OF MISCHARACTERIZATION.. like

me, intensely staring at his literal jp twt replies:

stared so hard i bet i concerned my phone tbh

also i wish for once i didn’t write literally all of my posts on my phone bc i wish i could put the little “read more” things on them.. maybe tomorrow lol

#identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv #idv oneshot #ish idk #idv murro #idv wildling #identity v murro #identity v wildling #id5 #idv murro x reader #idv wildling x reader #identity v murro x reader #identity v wildling x reader #fluff #idv fluff #ish #idk

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fantasyinallforms · 1 year

Note

Okay you HAVE to do “First thing you should know…it was an accident.”

The last prompt of the March Madness Fotfics event! Thank you, @sunnyrosewritesstuff! It's fitting that the last prompt I do for this event is the one I went a little crazy with.

Also, find this and my other work on A03! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46128451/chapters/116124325

bagginshield {G} 3217 words

Title: Happy Accidents; part 1

There were many things you could say about Dis Durin. Chief among them was that she loved her boys with her entire being. She especially loved spoiling them whenever the occasion arrived, and this week there was an occasion. It was Fili and Kili’s 11th birthday, and Dis had a small catalog in front of her filled with places she could take them. The boys sat on either side of her, eagerly throwing their opinions into the mix.

“Thorin! What do you think of this one?” Dis called to him as he walked inside from his shop. Thorin peered over the table to read what she was pointing at.

“Plant and sip? Isn't that where you build terrariums and sip on wine? You might be about ten years too early for that one, sis.”

“They have non-alcoholic parties.” Dis rolled her eyes. “What do you think, boys? You get to build a terrarium for a cactus or succulent.” Yells of excitement flooded the house for the next few moments as Dis got a clear answer to her inquiry.

“Alright, we’re going next Saturday at 2pm. Thorin, make sure you’re free.” Dis commanded matter of factly. Thorin put down the cup of water he was drinking to cock an eye at his sister.

“What makes you think I’m going? I have a black thumb. I’m good at building things, not growing them.”

“It’s not about being good at it! The boys want to spend more time with you. Do it for them” As if on queue Fili and Kili abandoned their excited conversation about cacti and rushed Thorin’s legs.

“Please, uncle! Please, please, please! It’s really hard to kill a cactus!” The boys refused to stop hopping around his legs until he eventually gave in.

“Fine! I’ll go!” Thorin shouted, running his hands through his hair in defeat. He glared and rolled his eyes at the pleased self-satisfied smile Dis was now sporting.

A week later, he was pulling up to a barn-style building with a wooden sign hanging from it called ‘The Sipping Plant. To the right of the building was a long greenhouse. It was a locally owned place, not a chain. That actually made Thorin a little happier. Being a small business owner himself, he understood the struggle. He waited for Dis to arrive, and they all walked in together. The inside had a distinctive boho vibe to it. The front seemed to be a store. There were shelves lined with pots, trinkets, and various plants. As well as some handcrafted wood-based items like birdhouses and pre-made planter kits. An older man wearing overalls and gardening gloves greeted them just inside.

“You must be the Durins! Go ahead and get settled in the back party room, and I’ll direct your guests through as they come in. You’re expecting 14 people total, correct?” The man asked.

“Yes, 14. Are you the owner?” Dis asked.

“Me? No, no. I just work here. Name is Hamfast Gamgee, but that's a mouthful, so you can call me Gaffer. Owner is Bilbo, and he’ll be leading the terrarium building” Gaffer led them to the back room. Beds of plants lined walls, and wide tables with matching wooden benches sat in neat rows facing another table on a raised platform at the front of the room. The room had been decked out in balloons and ribbons, and the chalkboard at the front read ‘Happy birthday, Fili and Kili!’ in pretty loopy handwriting. Strung between 2 very tall cacti was a banner that said ‘WELCOME.’

Dis sat them all at the front middle table, and they waited. Soon the room was filled with Fili and Kili’s friends and a few parents. The room was a buzz with voices, and Thorin was wondering how this mystery instructor was going to get everyone to quiet down. Just as he thought that, the lights in the room turned off, then turned back on again. The noise died down as everyone looked toward the door. In walked a short man (thought that was relative to Thorin, who was 6’6ft) with curly honey-brown hair. He wore jeans and a ruffled yellow shirt covered by a green gardening apron with large front pockets. He had a round face, an adorable button nose, and his ears were just slightly pointed. His mouth fell open as he watched the man walk across the room and take his position behind the table.

He stopped in front of the chalkboard and surveyed the room before addressing everyone in a pleasant tenor voice. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could sware the man's eyes lingered on him just a tad longer than the others in the room.

“Welcome! My name is Bilbo. Raise your hand if it’s your first time here.” most of the room raised their hands. “Wonderful, thank you for being here. I know this is in celebration of two very special birthdays. So let's start with making sure our birthday boys stand out!” He approached the table they were sitting at and knelt down. “Looks like I have two queen bees today” He handed them a pair of bee antennas. The boys took them hastily and put them on their heads.

“But wait! We’re not the queen! Mama would be the queen! Can we be prince bees?” Kili asked excitedly. Bilbo looked at Dis, who seemed a little flustered but gave a small nod. He returned to the table, got another pair of antennas, and handed them over.

“Prince bees and their mom, the queen bee it is. But what about your Dad?” Thorin paled immediately

“I’m their uncle, not their dad.” Thorin quickly rushed to say. He really wanted this man to know that he was very much not taken. Bilbo nodded and returned to the front. He instructed everyone to get a drink from the coolers in the corners of the room and walked them through the different materials they would be working with. They each chose a pot and two succulents from the plant beds Bilbo pointed to. When they sat back down, Bilbo laid out rocks, a bucket of soil, and some decorations at each table. The rest of what Bilbo said was lost to him. Enchanted, he watched small, nimble hands dirty themselves in the soil and expertly transplant the succulent from the temporary pot it was in into the more permanent one in front of him. How could a person be this cute?

“Alright, now it’s your turn. I’ll walk around if anyone needs any help.” Bilbo announced. Shit. He hadn't been paying attention to the actual words the man had been saying. He grabbed the little trowel in front of him and layered a big scoop into his pot. Before he could start taking the nursery pot off his succulent, Bilbo picked up his pot and dumped out the soil.

“It looks like you might have missed a step. Rocks first for drainage, then soil.” Thorin failed to keep the blush off his face as he corrected his mistake. Eventually, they made it to the final decoration stage. They were instructed to decorate their pots and soil however they wanted. The boys seemed to be having a blast decorating theirs with little plastic dinosaurs and spaceships. The artist in Thorin liked this part a lot himself, although he was going for a less busy aesthetic than his nephews. He was deep in concentration when he heard a stool pull up beside him. Sitting on the stool, Bilbo was at eye level with him. From a distance had thought the man had brown or maybe even dark blue eyes, but now that he had a good look at his face, he saw that his eyes were, in fact, a deep shade of green. Deeper than emerald but far more mesmerizing.

“That looks amazing! Most of my adult clients are usually pretty tipsy by this point in the process. Is that a crow?” Bilbo asked enthusiastically.

“It’s a Raven. I’ve always really liked ravens.” Thorin replied sheepishly.

“As you should! They’re smart, beautiful birds and more helpful in a garden than you would think. It's very detailed. I wish I could draw half as well as you.” Bilbo giggled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. He felt like a kid that got the attention of his crush, and he didn't want to lose it.”

“I’m good with my hands!.... I mean, it’s my profession using my hands… Building things! I build things. Mostly out of metal but also wood. So you could say I have a lot of practice being creative.” He wanted to bury his head in his hands in embarrassment. Luckily he was rescued from his torment by another table asking for help.

“You should get his number after this!” Dis hissed in his ear, causing him to jump. Thorin shot her a slightly incredulous look. “I’ve known you my entire life. I can tell when you get heart eyes for someone, and you practically ogled the man on his way into the room.”

“Chances are he’s not even gay!” Thorin hissed back

“I forgot your gaydar is hopelessly broken. There are two pride flags in this room, Thorin. Which means if he’s not gay, which I would bet money he is, he at least won't take offense to the question.” Thorin looked around the room to find the flags he clearly missed. One was sitting right on the desk in front of him, nestled in a jar of sharpies. The other took him longer to find, and it wasn't until he looked back at Bllbo that he saw the flag pinned clear as day to his apron. Well, it wasn't sure proof, but it definitely boded well.

It had been a few years since he had tried his hand at the dating pool. He valued his space and his solitude and wasn't willing to give that up for just anyone. One look at Bilbo's, though, and he was considering it. Surely he was being silly. He had met this man an hour ago, but something about him radiated like sunshine through thunderclouds, and it made Thorin want to try.

The formal part of the party ended, and the room was left to them for cake-cutting and unwrapping gifts. The boys were over the moon with all of it. Thorin was particularly happy with their reactions to the wooden swords he made and painted for them. Soon after the last package was unwrapped, guests started filtering out until, finally, it was just Dis, the boys, and himself. He took the antennas off the boy's heads and whispered to his sister.

“You get the boys home. I’m going to hang back for a moment.” Dis’s face lit up, and she pushed his nephews out of the door, sparing him a wink before she left. He wrestled his nerves and turned back towards the party room. Bilbo was wiping down the chalkboard and humming an unfamiliar tune. In all his nervousness, Thorin's approach set off an unfortunate chain of events. He went to step onto the raised platform and underestimated the ledge causing him to trip. In an attempt to break his fall, he absent-mindedly grabbed the saguaro cactus standing to the side of the chalkboard. This caused him to jump back in a jolt of pain, again, forgetting the ledge. Thorin fell backward off the raised platform and crashed into a table. The table's legs snapped under the weight of the impact, sending it and him to the floor with a bang.

His head swam for a moment, and there was a light ringing in his ears as the world came back into focus. It was a very pleasant focus as Bilbo's face was now inches from his.

“Mr. Durin, are you ok! Gaffer, help me get him up, then go grab the first aid kit!” Thorin felt his body get pulled into a sitting position, and finally, he fully regained his senses.

“First thing you should know…it was an accident. Second thing is that I will definitely make you a new table,” Thorin mumbled, clutching his head. He winced when he realized one of his hands was covered in cactus spines.

“I’m not worried about the table! Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Bilbo fretted. He was kneeling on the floor in front of Thorin, one hand supporting his back and the other resting on his chest.

“No, no, I’m sturdier than I look. I might need help getting these spines out of my hand, though.”

“Yes, I can help with that. Here lean on me, and I can help you up.” Bilbo braced himself so that Thorin could lean on him instead of his injured hand.

“No offense. Are you sure you can help me up? I’m twice your size.”

“I’m stronger than I look, but to be safe, make sure you lean into your other hand.” It was a little bit of a struggle, but Bilbo was able to help him stand up and get seated on a proper bench. A short time later, Gaffer came running back in with a first aid kit in hand. Bilbo took it and pulled a chair to him so close that their knees interlocked. He held out his hand, motioning for Thorin to hand his over. When he did, Bilbo took it in a firm but gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, but this next part will sting a lot, and the pain will likely ache the more spines I take out. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have urgent care do it?” Bilbo met his eyes with a worried expression. Thorin put his hand on Bilbo's knee.

“No, I’m fine. Like I said, I’m sturdy.” Thorin enjoyed the little blush that crossed Bilbo's face at the casual touch, but he retracted his hand, not wanting to overstep. Bilbo started plucking the spines out in silence. He wasn't wrong; the more spines came out, the worse it hurt. Sensing Thorin’s discomfort, Bilbo tried to strike up a casual conversation.

“So, what were you on your way to ask me before all of this happened?” Bilbo asked, still concentrating on his hand.

“I was returning the antennas, and I was going to say thank you. The boys had a lot of fun.” He winced as the last of the spines came out. “Is that all of them?” Thorin asked

“No, I have to get the fine hairs out next, then clean it. This next part won't hurt as bad, but it will feel weird. Bilbo pulled out a little jar of glue and coated Thorin’s hand in it, then placed a few gauze pads over it. “The glue will dry and pull the little spines out. So were you just coming to return the antennas, or did you want to ask me something…else?” Thorin’s head snapped up to look a the bashful smile spreading across Bilbo’s face.

“Well, I should probably ask for your number. You know, just in case I decide to put my hand through another cactus. You do definitely seem to know what you’re doing.” Thorin tried to flash a cheesy grin, hoping his attempt at being smooth wasn't as horrible as it sounded in his head. To his delight, Bilbo started laughing.

“I’ve had a lot of practice bandaging accidental cacti wounds. I’ve never had someone break a table, however, so I will get to add that to my list of firsts.” Bilbo looked him right in the eyes with a sweet smile and ripped the glue-soaked gauze off his hand in one clean motion. Thorin wrenched his hand back in a yelp of pain.

“You said that wasn't going to hurt as much!” Thorin grumbled, rubbing his hand

“I lied, sorry! I needed you to not tense your hand. I’m sure it feels much better now. I just need to clean it with some peroxide, and we’re all done.” Bilbo gingerly wiped his hand down. When he was done, he gave the back of his hand a little pat and got up. Thorin was sad to see him move away. He was also sad to realize that Bilbo had never actually given him his number. Thorin pulled the car keys out of his pocket and scratched behind his head in a nervous gesture.

“I appreciate the help, and again, I’ll make sure you get another table. I guess I should probably head out.” He started to turn around for the door when Bilbo called him back.

“Wait! You just crashed into a table; there is no way you should drive home! Y-you could have a concussion or… something. Let me drive your car home, and Gaffer can follow behind us to take me back.” Thorin was not about to question getting to spend a little more time with this cactus-loving gardener.

“I live about 30 minutes away so as long as you're sure. My truck is a stick shift. Is that going to be an issue?”

“Not at all! I love driving stick!” Bilbo seemed oblivious to his double entendre, then turned a wonderful shade of scarlet. “I mean, I drive stick all the time! Wait, no I… just give me the keys….” Bilbo swiped the keys from his hand and quickly walked out the door, not making eye contact. Thorin stared after him with a lopsided grin and fond eyes. He had known Bilbo for all of two and a half hours, and he already wanted to kiss the man silly.

The car ride was comfortable. They listened to a few songs off their playlists and then swapped stories about their jobs and hobbies. All too soon, they pulled up to Thorin’s house.

“Wow! Your house is way nicer than I thought it would be! Not that I thought it would look bad or anything! It just doesn't match up to the aesthetic I thought you would keep.” Bilbo put the car in park and stepped out. Thorin did the same. He walked around to the side of the car Bilbo was standing on to continue the conversation.

“That’s because my sister picked the house. Most of what makes me, me is in a workshop around the back. You should see it sometime. I know you do projects of your own I think you’d like it.” Thorin hung the second bid for more time together out in the open, hoping Bilbo would take it.

“I think I’d like that,” Bilbo replied, blushing. Thorin held his breath as those deep green eyes looked through lases up at him. Bilbo stood comfortably in the shadow of his broad frame and heaven above; he looked like he was meant to fit there. The air hung heavy for a moment before Bilbo rolled up onto his tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on Thorin’s lips. “I have to go but… you should call me!” He felt him slip something into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, then turn and walk away. He stared in shock as he watched Bilbo’s pleasant form disappear into a yellow Volkswagen. When he checked his pocket a moment later, it was a business card for The Sipping Plant with a heart drawn around where Bilbo’s number was.

#bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #the hobbit #fotfics #FIAF(me)fics #fanfiction

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ready-steady-freddie · 2 years

Text

Beyond (Part four)

Robert Bob Floyd x original female character

Warnings: 18+! Explicit sexual acts, mentions of masturbation and adult language.

Word count: 3,2K

Notes: The layout for this is way off as I posted it from my phone. I will try to fix it once I have access to a laptop or tablet. Other than that, enjoy!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE | PART SIX

"Lily, get in here, please! I need your help!"

"You must be really desperate if you're calling on your slutty sister to help you get dressed." They stood quietly and looked at each other for a minute. "And you're not even going to argue against the whole 'slutty sister' thing?"

"I am desperate. Help me, please."

Lily stared at the mess on Kate's bedroom floor, kicking a few items of clothing aside.

"I forgot, where is he taking you?"

"I don't actually know. He said to dress classy-casual. I don't even know what that means!"

"Where is that dress you wore to Isabelle's wedding a few years ago?"

"The dark blue one?"

Lily nodded as Kate trawled through her wardrobe to find the specific dress. "And what are you wearing underneath?"

"Uhm .. Underwear."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Kate, seriously. You're acting like you've never met a man, been on a date or had sex before. You need some sexy underwear!"

Kate just looked lost. "Well, I am not particularly experienced in any of those categories."

"Look, some of us are expecting you to get laid tonight. I'm sure Bobby would appreciate if he was the one doing the laying and he would appreciate it even more if you showed him that you did all of this just for him."

"I am doing all of this just for him."

"But he doesn't know that, does he? Until he gets to see the part of you that only he gets to see. You in your underwear."

Kate sighed in frustration. She knew Lily was right. She was so nervous about their date and she had spent many hours doing something nice but not too complicated with her hair and she had put on makeup and it was almost 7pm and she was still dressed in her pyjamas. She pulled out the dress Lily had asked for. That would have to do. She did not have time to try on any more clothes and not make a decision.

"Kate, I found some underwear that matches your dress and I am honestly a little astounded that you even own a set like this." Lily giggled and threw the underwear on Kate's bed.

Kate glanced at it. She could not remember where or why she bought it. It was extremely impractical, more lace than actual fabric. It looked so itchy and Kate hated the idea of wearing it. She hesitated.

"I'm not saying you have to wear this. I'm just saying, you wanna impress this guy, right? Maybe even have sex with him."

Kate nodded.

"This will impress him."

Kate took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, okay. Get out of my room and I'll get dressed."

Kate had barely closed the clasp on her necklace when the doorbell rang. Her heart skipped a beat. He was here. And right on time. She panicked. She needed a drink to calm her nerves. But she did not have any alcohol at home and she had promised herself only one drink tonight at dinner and, even if she did have alcohol at home, she did not have time to mix a drink right now. She hurried to the door, eager to get there before Lily did. She buzzed Bob in and opened the door before steadying herself against the frame.

He was a sight for sore eyes as he walked up the stairs, a plethora of wild flowers in one hand. He had discarded his glasses for the evening and looked like he had not shaved in a couple of days. He was dressed classy-casual in the same outfit as last weekend with a nice jacket thrown over. Kate's breathing increased, her mouth went dry and her ears were filled with the pounding of her heart. She felt dizzy.

"You brought flowers? For me?" She looked them over and did not recognise many of them but the smell of lavender was unmistakable. Her eyes lit up when they found his and her smile widened.

"My grandma didn't raise a fool. She taught me that whenever you visit someone's home for the first time, you bring flowers or you bring a pie. I-I didn't have time to bake a pie."

"Thank you, Bob. They're beautiful."

A dash of pink came over his cheeks and ears. He breathed deeply and replied, "Not nearly as beautiful as you. You look breathtak-"

It would have been a very romantic moment, had Lily not showed up that very second and groaned, "Urgh, just go bone each other already."

Kate sent her a sharp look. "Lily, put these in a vase, please."

Lily took the flowers and gave Bob a nod.

"Bobby."

"Lily."

"You take good care of my sister, alright?"

"I will." He stuck out his hand for Kate to take. "Wanna get out of here?"

"More than anything."

He hoped his palms did not feel too sweaty as he led her to his car. He opened the car door and helped her inside. Still holding her hand, he eyed her up and down, making sure she noticed.

"You really look amazing, Kate."

"You do too, Bob."

They returned to the apartment building around midnight, taking a long stroll down by Mission Beach after dinner. There had been many moments of fingertips touching, bare feet caressing clothed calves, stolen looks across the table and a warm hand on a bare thigh on the car ride back to Kate's place, starting a fire in Kate's core every time they touched. Bob walked Kate to the front door. He circled her upper arm with one hand once the door was unlocked.

"Kate," he murmured. She turned to look up at him. He was so handsome and he probably did not even know it. His beautiful blue eyes and his cute, slightly lopsided mouth. His hand moved slowly from her arm to the side of her neck and her jaw, his thumb almost unnoticeably brushing against her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and savoured the feel of his rough fingers against her soft skin. Parting her lips slightly, she expected him to kiss her any second now.

Any second now …

Any. Second. Now.

It did not happen. She glanced up at him again. He stood frozen. Not like he was nervous or panicking but like he wanted to remember this very moment and not ruin it by moving a muscle.

Finally, he spoke. "I suppose this is the part of the evening where I'm forced to kiss you goodnight."

Kate closed her eyes briefly and chuckled. "Forced to? Would it be that bad?"

He shrugged with a relaxed smile. "I'm sure I could suffer through it."

"Me too."

Neither made the next move. Kate wanted to do something, anything. Her body called out for him, only him, and she could not and would not put all of this unexpressed pressure on him alone to move things along.

"Hey, do you, uh ... Do you want to come up for some more dessert? Or watch a movie or ...?"

"Yes. To all of it."

Kate's heart jumped a little again. She tried to hide her shaking hands by holding tight onto the strap of her bag. This was it. Bob had not run away after their date. He had even implied he would not mind kissing her. Kate felt lightheaded with the anticipation of what could possibly happen tonight.

Lily was seemingly not home. They occupied the sofa after filling a bowl each with ice cream. Kate turned the TV on and found an old favourite rom-com.

"Do you mind watching this?" she asked, almost apologetic.

"What? No way, I love Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan."

Kate's eyebrows flew up and then she giggled.

He added "I mean, yeah, the premise of the movie is kinda weird and he does have a slight stalker-feel to him. But it all ends well, so it's okay, right?"

They ate and watched the film in relative quiet, trying to get comfortable on the sofa but not really knowing how. They started off at opposite ends, nearing each other as the film progressed. It started with an innocent arm of Bob's on the sofa behind Kate's neck. It moved onto Kate resting her side against Bob's, his hand suddenly upon her upper arm, stroking languidly up and down. She then settled her head on his chest, one hand laying across his body, fingertips barely moving down his hip and thigh. It ended with Kate resting her head on a pillow in his lap as his fingers played around on her exposed shoulder, moving over and under the strap of her dress and her bra and across her collarbone and her shoulder blade.

Bob was getting heated. He could barely think a coherent thought with her head and pretty mouth so close to his crotch. He had absolutely no expectations of her mouth going anywhere near his dick this evening but he could hope. He sure could hope. He yearned to feel her close, much closer than they were in this moment. She looked so stunning in that dress which did all it could to show her curves. How he had been able to carry on a conversation for hours when all he could think about was getting her out of that dress was beyond him. But he was an expert multitasker. His spot in the jet required that of him.

The movie ended. She did not stir. He moved to glance down at her. Eyes closed, breathing slowly, she had fallen asleep under his touch. He smiled a little. She felt safe. From his position he could perhaps lift her up and carry her to her bed. It was not an easy feat. He had forgotten how difficult it was to carry another grown person around, especially when also having to open doors in the process.

He placed her gently on her bed and contemplated if he should take off her dress. He was sure it would be a nuisance to sleep in - but he also did not want her to feel disrespected or vulnerable. She looked so content, he could hardly bring himself to disturb her.

He pushed a lock of hair away from her face and said softly, "Kate, I've put you in your own bed. I'm gonna go now. Thank you for a great evening."

She finally stirred. Bob could not tell if she was awake or if she still had her eyes closed. She touched his arm and whispered, "Stay. Please."

He hesitated but not for long. He stripped down to his underwear, placing his dog tags on her dresser. Just before getting into bed, Kate mumbled, "Help me take my dress off, please."

His breath caught in his throat. Was it really going to happen now? He gingerly unzipped the back of the dress and moved the shoulder straps down. She was not much help in getting the dress off. He had to sort of wriggle the dress down over her chest and hips and legs. But he did it without tearing the dress or waking her. He gazed at her black underwear, enjoying how the lace scalloped and followed her curves. When she did not wake any further, he tucked her in and settled for the night on top of the duvet, trying to fall asleep with his hands behind his head, his desire for her almost unbearable. He sighed. She was right there next to him, soft and beautiful and tangible. Thinking about her as he jerked off at night - sometimes in the morning - in his quarters had brought a silly smirk to his face. She was even more soft and beautiful and tangible in the moonlight than he had imagined.

It was nearing dawn when Bob felt Kate's lips upon his own. He was not entirely sure at first that it was not a dream. They were warm, moist and gentle. Bob tenderly cupped her head as he woke, tangling his fingers in her hair, while she rested beside him, her upper body touching his. The lace fabric of her bra created a wonderful friction against his bare chest and tiny goosebumps appeared all over his skin. He sighed longingly into her mouth. She pulled back slightly with a tiny smile and half-closed eyes.

"I thought you would never kiss me," he whispered breathlessly.

"I didn't want to steal your thunder. In case you wanted to kiss me first."

"I should have."

"Just kiss me now."

His lips were on hers. Kate let out a surprised laugh when Bob grabbed her upper thighs and pulled her on top of him to straddle his hips as he sat upright. Bob grasped at any bare skin on Kate's body within reach. Moving his hands up and down her thighs, her hips, sides, chest, neck, arms, shoulders, her back, her behind. Every move she made against him made his cock harder and he felt he might be physically sick if he did not free it soon from the cotton constraints.

Kate leaned back slightly to unclasp her bra. She suddenly felt very self conscious under his tender gaze, stirring to put it back on.

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?" Bob asked, supporting her position with two strong hands on her back. In the dim lighting his blue eyes looked almost black with desire. Kate saw something else there but she could not define it at that moment.

"I am okay." She was here with him, she trusted him and everything was right. She felt safe in his embrace. She let the bra slide off her shoulders onto the floor.

"You are so beautiful," Bob whispered in-between two soft kisses. Kate blushed a little, thankful that it was not too obvious in the early morning light. She grinded her bottom against his crotch as he placed kisses on her chest, moaning when his cock pressed onto her. This was actually happening. It sent a surge of excitement through Kate's entire body.

Kate pushed Bob onto his back, moved lazily down his chest and abdomen, occasionally kissing and nipping at him. She glanced up at him when she reached the waistband of his boxers. He was not looking at her, his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. She took a brief moment to look him over. Bob was exactly as gorgeous as she had imagined, something his uniform would never have revealed. She nuzzled his erection though the cotton and he moaned. It quivered and bounced back when she did it again.

“P-Please,” Bob mumbled.

She touched it fully with her hand, still outside his boxers. She whispered, “What do you want me to do?”

“Anything,” he pleaded.

Kate giggled softly. She had done this only a few times before. She was confident it would be alright. She tugged down his underwear and his manhood sprang free. She did not spend another second thinking, she immediately put her lips and one hand around it. Bob fisted the duvet with both hands as he bucked into her mouth. She only went slow to savour the sounds he made. She wanted to give him that sweet release but not just yet.

“Oh my god, Kate ..” he murmured after a while. Bob stirred under her and grabbed her hand with his own. He lifted his head slightly and looked at her. “I am so turned on by you. If you keep going like this, I’m going to finish in like a minute.”

She awaited his next move.

“Let’s save that for later.”

In a few swift moves he had Kate lying on her side and their lips met again. His cock poked her lower abdomen as he roughly pulled down her panties with one hand. He dragged her upper leg slightly forward so her knee rested on his thigh. Feeling in-between their bodies he found her soaking wet pussy and Kate's head rolled back when he stroked it. His hand came to his mouth and he tasted the finger that had been between her folds a moment ago. Bob moaned loudly and Kate stared mesmerised at him.

She moaned, “I want you now.”

"Shit, I don't have …" Bob panted. He glanced at the bedside table. “Condom?”

Kate nodded, glad she had been prepared. She picked out one that seemed fitting for him. He was quick to put it on and position himself between her legs. All of this felt so very, very right and when he looked down into her eyes with a slight smile Kate knew he felt the same.

Bob entered her gently. She could tell he tried to hold back and not move too fast. She had never before been more turned on, never been wetter and he simply fit perfectly. The moment was perfect. Bob was perfect. With Kate's silent permission he found a steady pace to move in. Bob shifted his weight from his hands to his forearms and their bodies were now flush against each other. His sweaty forehead touched hers briefly and he captured her lips in a kiss.

With one hand he lifted one of her legs slightly higher and it made his body grind against her clit. A tremor went through her entire body. She whimpered with pleasure.

He panted, “This feels so good, you feel so good.”

Kate circled his body with her legs, pressing him closer to her and he picked up the pace slightly. One hand was under her neck and the fingers of the other were intertwined with hers. Kate's moaning once again spurred him on and she suddenly found them changing positions as Kate ended up on top of him with Bob on his back. He kept thrusting and she tried to move with him. He held onto her hips with one hand and with the other he circled her clit with his thumb. Kate's whole body quivered.

Bob let Kate set the pace. She was inexperienced in this position but he did not seem to know or care. Their moans turned louder and she was momentarily afraid to wake up Lily. But she did not care enough to keep her noises down. This was a new thing for Kate, she would be damned if she was going to let anyone ruin it for her.

Bob’s thrusting paired with his expert hand skills made Kate's body tremble. She could feel her body closing in on the one sensation that started it all: the warmth between her legs. She cried out – not as loud as she had expected – and fell forwards onto Bob’s chest, panting. He kept thrusting in a quicker and quicker pace and not long after did he also call out. He breathed heavily and held her close for a long time. She giggled at the feeling of him pulling his now flaccid cock out. Still holding her, he carefully took off the condom and put it on the floor. Kate grabbed a napkin to wipe off herself and Bob.

He shifted so they once again lay on their sides facing each other. He caressed her cheek and kissed her. “Good morning.”

Kate giggled. "Hi."

“Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Kate lifted her hand to cup his cheek and she loved the sensation of his stubble under her fingers. She smiled and nodded. "More than okay. And you?"

He nodded.

“Thank you for sharing this moment with me. I really like you, Kate,” he whispered. His tender kisses to her lips were heaven-sent. They lay like that for a long time until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd top gun #everyone's favourite bob #lieutenant bob floyd #top gun fanfiction

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gray-skiess · 2 years

Note

Hello lovely! Could I get a male stranger things and marvel match up please? Thank you so much!

APPEARANCE: I am 20 year old female, she/her pronouns, I’m 5’1” with somewhat long dirty blonde/brown hair, I’m curvy and I should be wearing glasses but alas I do not. I like having my nails painted either black or red or both. My style is a mix of girly and gothic, I wear lots of skirts and dresses and frilly socks but also fishnets and dark colors and jackets or flannels.

PERSONALITY: I think I’m infp and enfp? I’m mature when I need to be and quiet, but once you get to know me I’m bubbly and weird. I have pretty bad anxiety so I will get nervous over everything and anything, I’m paranoid as well at times. I love making others laugh and happy, I can be awkward at times also but I cope with humor. I try to help everyone around me, I shove my feelings to the side most of the time if someone needs help- often times putting others before myself. I guess in certain aspects I’m kinda nerdy?? ( I am also a hufflepuff )

INTERESTS/HOBBIES: I love animals, gardening, reading and writing, painting, musical theatre which I’ve done for ten years. I love to sing dance and act, help others, I enjoy raising caterpillars into butterflies. music ( Lana del rey, imagine dragons, mother mother, show tunes, poor man’s poison, fall out boy, etc ) I like collecting things like pins or random nicnacs.

hey hey hey! thanks so much for the request, i hope you enjoy !

from stranger things i match you with;

eddie munson !

i love this guy a lot he’s in my dreams

- always dragging you to his sets, finds absolute joy in making eye contact with you in the audience (as dwindling as it may be), and at the end of every set you go to he gives you the guitar pick he used since “they’re only like a dollar fifty a piece” anyway

- forces you to care for yourself. sees you putting others before you? nope not in his book. literally sits you down and makes you talk about your week and how you felt about things just so you don’t have to push it down

- loves both sides of your style, the darker and frillier side alike. thinks you always look badass and is constantly showing you off to the hellfire club members and his band mates

from marvel i match you with;

bruce banner !

i know what you’re thinking ‘what the heck? gray these guys are nothing alike!’ but hear me out- they’re kind of similar in opposite ways

- he’s a busy guy but when it comes down to it, he’s so glad to be able to come home to you, it’s where he finds his ultimate peace. never needing to push down the anger around you because- well- there isn’t any

- tries desperately to explain the most complicated parts of quantum mechanics to you even if you’re not understanding any of it. gets excited about making new things and finding out about different universes or chemical combinations

- i would have to say that his love language is surprisingly touch. whenever he’s feeling down or you’re feeling down he is here to hug you for as long as either of you need. and is such a good listener when you need it <3

#gray-skiess #gray's blog #stranger things #eddie munson #headcanons #x reader #matchup request #matchup #marvel #bruce banner #hulk #joseph quinn #moodboards #aesthetic #imagines #mcu

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

Text

Scrub-a-Dub

summary; Bucky asks you to cut and wash his hair.

words; 1413

warning: literally nothing this is fluff

Masterlist!

You have always been the one trusted to cut Bucky’s locks, he always asked you to do it rather than go to a barber. He would set everything up and be too shy to ask you to join him in the washroom so he’d sit in the little chair and hope you’d walk in soon, sometimes he could hear you watching TV outside the bathroom and just wait for you to come in for a commercial bathroom break.

“Bucky, I told you, just ask me,” you sigh and get your scissors out, he gets everything else out.

“But I feel greedy when I ask,” he trails off and looks down at his feet, you just sigh and stand behind him.

He tells you what he wants and you begin, it’s simple. just a little off everywhere and a tad shorter at the front, it was his classic cut. On really bad days during a breakdown he’d ask you to shave his head but he would be in hysterics when he’d ask, you never felt like it was really the Bucky you knew talking to you. He always liked his long hair, in the 40′s you’d never see a man with hair that long; unless they were a hippie before the prime. he liked pulling it back into a bun to match you and sometimes taking your hand and manually running it through his hair until you got the hint.

You snipped away what needed to be snipped, it only takes around half an hour, it’s very easy because of his straight hair. every time you’d look into the mirror to see Bucky’s face his eyes were always closed, he said you gave him ‘tingles’ whenever you’d touch his head. his smile was so cute, the best part is that it was always involuntary. his cheek dimples would pop up and his eyelids gently rested against one another.

“Aaaand, done!” you placed your scissors on the table and Bucky opened his eyes, his smile flashing teeth as he looked around.

“Perfect as always,” he muttered to himself, he sat back in his chair even though the cut was over. a cheeky smile grew on his face while he fiddled with his finger nails, you just put a hand on your hip and waited.

“You have to ask,” you could read his mind.

“Nooo,” he groaned like a child, “please I don’t want to sound bossy!” he turned around to face you, rather than look through the mirror, “oh c’mon, you know what I’m thinking, please?”

“Please, what?” you walked over to the tub and sat on the edge.

“Can you maybe, kinda, um, like, wash my hair- it’stotallyokayifyoudon’twantto!” Bucky just giggled when you started to run the water, his blush had calmed before he slipped off his shirt.

Bucky leaned over the tub and kept his flesh arm under his chin for comfort, the vibranium arm found your leg and gently rubbed the spot to show his thanks. the water touched his scalp and his shoulders dropped, a sigh left his mouth while you used the detachable head to get all his hair wet.

You started to hum a tune when you saw Bucky try and look up to find you, he had told you sometimes when he can’t see you his brain makes him think you’re giving him a dirty look or you are just really unhappy. If he’d ask you to make him a cup of tea while you made yours or just to grab something of his from the room, he’d always come trailing behind you after a couple seconds, just making sure you’re not mad at him.

“I know, it’s exhausting,” he sighed when you stopped the water to grab shampoo, “dealing with me being clingy and following you around,” the song you were humming turned into your way of saying you loved him and that you weren’t mad when he couldn't see your face.

The shampoo hadn’t reached your fingers yet, so you leaned forward to meet Bucky’s eyes on the edge of the tub. “you aren’t clingy, you’re loving. And Buck, I need you to know I actually love doing things for you, getting you apples and cheese when you watch TV or giving back scratch, I love it.” you kissed his forehead, “so don’t apologize, please.” you leaned back and got some suds in your hand.

Your fingers went deep into his scalp and massaged all around, his hair bunching up and getting under your hands. a few drops of water trickled down his bare back but that didn’t compare to how much was dropping off of his forehead.

Bucky just let you do your thing, he didn’t always get his haircut every certain amount of months, it was more when he felt like it was too long and awkward. When you could actually braid the ends was his rule of thumb, and he knew exactly when that was because of how often you did it. Bucky liked fighting with his hair back, he felt like he twinned with you and also it was more comfortable. When he needed to rush out a fight in a last minute mission it was pulled back into pony or bun, but when you both knew you had time during or before a mission he always found a spot in front of you, one elastic on his knee while a hair brush sat on another, waiting for a French braid.

“Close your eyes,” you said softly as you used the water again to wash it all out, “there you go, pretty boy. Good job, I bet that feels really nice, huh?” you scrubbed around, “you deserve it.”

You couldn’t see it but a few tears mixed with the washed out shampoo, you never failed to make him cry with the simplest praise. all at once a towel was thrown around his head, you shook it around

a bit and made sure it was dry enough. You’d learned the hard way that hair dryers weren’t appreciated, way too loud. The towel did the trick and Bucky liked to let it air dry after you told him heat on hair can damage it, he took that and ran with it.

The wooden hairbrush Bucky had a legitimate attachment to sat on the counter, you grabbed it and started to make work of the knots at the back. You both were still by the tub but Bucky was sitting upright at this point, his eyes trained on you as you brushed back his hair.

He always noticed the very tip of your tongue stuck out when you did the little things: gardening, cooking, brushing his hair. You always got embarrassed when someone pointed it out because you saw it as a bad habit. Bucky reached up quickly and ‘booped’ the little nub sticking out, you gently smacked his arm.

“None of that,” you playfully whined, your face heating up.

“But I think it’s adorable, it means you’re focusing and I like it.” Bucky stated with a nod, his hands making their way to your hips, gently squeezing and pulling at them, “get closer,” he mumbled and pulled you forward.

“Let me get the back,” you said absentmindedly.

“Let me help,” Bucky had his smirk, he scooted forward and threw his face right between your breasts.

“Bucky!” you tried to push his shoulders back, he shook his head for multiple reasons.

“Oh, did you say ‘get closer’?-”

“-No!-” you giggled.

“Alright,” he pulled you tighter but kept his face where it was, you were just wearing a sweater so he didn’t get skin to skin like he probably wanted. You sighed and started to brush Bucky’s hair at the bac., every so often his face would move around, claiming he was getting comfy, he would turn his head a bit and kiss you through the febric, only making you laugh more.

“Now, that will be three hundred dollars for the salon de moi,” you giggled and pulled away, “maybe three-fiffty after what you just did,” your eyebrow raised before you began to put everything away.

Bucky went when your back was turned and threw you over his shoulder, he brought you back to the bed, “how about another type of payment?” he asked as he started to lift up your sweater, “and thanks for everything, by the way,” it got over your head.

“Love you, Bucky.”

“Love you, now time for me to pay up!”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky oneshot #Bucky Barnes fluff #bucky barns x y/n #bucky imagine #tfatws #winter solider #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #bucky fanfic

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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)

You in Here? || James Potter

Word Count: 2268

A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.

Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism

Masterlist

“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers.

You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.

His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into.

And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.

“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.

“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.

“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates.

What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.

Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect.

“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.

“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.

You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.

Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.

His legs. Those fucking legs.

And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.

You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”

“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers.

“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”

“No one was gonna just-”

You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.

“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”

Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat.

A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.

“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine.

Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.

“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”

After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.

“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening.

The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.

“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”

“My whore,” He corrected.

“Your whore.”

At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.

“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.

A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.

“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?”

He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours.

You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”

“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”

It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.

Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.

A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.

“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.

James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.

“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain.

You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie.

“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.

“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust.

“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”

His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.

“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.

Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck.

As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided.

The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.

It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy.

“D-Daddy may I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.

“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”

Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.

James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #marauders fanfic #James potter smut #James potter x reader #James potter x you #james potter x y/n #James potter imagine #James potter imagines

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singtotheskiies · 4 years

Text

dried blood on smooth skin // five hargreeves x reader

summary: five hargreeves really needs patching up—in more ways than one.

words: 1655

warnings: brief language, descriptions of blood, otherwise just that sweet touch-starved fluff we all crave

a/n: i’m a klaus kinda girl, but this is me working through why i find five so goddamn attractive

✖️✖️✖️

Normally, when Five Hargreeves blinks into your room, it’s because he wants to escape from the stifling presence of his father or because you’ve begged for his help with your math homework (the man has no right being so smart). He always manages to sneak out on your birthday and bring you a donut from Griddy’s and something you value even more—his companionship, even if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, you tell him he should be more careful—his father has eyes all over the house; he must suspect that something’s going on. Five always dismisses your protests, telling you not to worry about it—he’s got it under control.

He comes to you because you’re a constant for him, a sense of normalcy. Whenever he needs an escape from the constant hierarchy and trauma of his house (which is often), he can come to you and relish in your laughter and friendship and caring aura. Of course, he’s never said all of this to you outright, but you understand anyway. You know Five well enough to know that underneath all his bluster and know-it-all attitude, he appreciates you—the only person he can really call his friend.

Today is different, though. When the blue flash of light materializes in your bedroom, you jump, dropping your book to the ground. “Christ, Five, didn’t we talk about—“ You trail off as you see the state he’s in. His clothes are torn and disheveled, something he would normally never allow. The parts of his face not covered in blood are stark white, matching his knuckles as they clench up at his sides. God, there’s blood everywhere. Is it his? There’s so much—there’s no way his body could produce that much, right?—and it’s thick and clotted onto his normally pristine skin and suit, concentrated especially on a spot on his right side. You notice he’s barely moved in the several seconds you’ve been gaping at him, merely swaying side to side weakly.

“What the fuck happened?” you begin, but are cut off by his knees buckling. You catch him just in time, guiding him to your desk chair before he can ruin your carpet.

“Mission—gone wr-wrong,” he pants, barely able to get the words out.

“Why didn’t you stay with your siblings? They know how to handle this st—“

“I don’t want their help.” He cuts you off, managing to instill an incredible amount of venom in his words as they stutter past his gritted teeth. “Their fault.”

“Okay, well, why didn’t you jump to a hospital, or your mom, or someone who could actually help!? Jesus, Five, you could—“

“I—I did come to someone who can help. It would be really—nice—if you started,” he breathes, brow drawn tight in pain. Sweat and dried blood mix together in the furrows of his dusky skin, and something about that sight kicks you into action.

“Okay, I need to get this jacket off you. Can you lift your arms?” He grunts in what you take to be an affirmative response, and you manage to wrestle the piece of clothing off him without jarring him too much. You’re left with the sight of blood pouring out of him, staining the weave of his bright white dress shirt, and you tighten your jaw as realization sets in. “Uh, Five? I need to—um—take your shirt off,” you almost whisper, trying to ignore the rising flush in your cheeks. He barely summons a weak nod, and you take that as your go-ahead.

Hands shaking, you start at his neck, working your way down. With each button unfastened, more and more tanned, smooth skin becomes visible. After what seems like an eternity, you reach the last button, sliding your hands back up to his shoulders to ease his sleeves off. You take in the expanse of freckled, smooth skin now exposed to the air. You wonder how he hasn’t got more scars on missions—every inch and plane of skin you can see is soft-looking and somehow catches the light as he breathes in and out laboriously. But then your eyes land on the bullet wound spilling blood onto his side and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “Shit,” you curse. “I’ll be right back.”

You run into your bathroom, grabbing the first-aid kit you have for emergencies. Your breath is coming quickly—you know that every second is crucial to Five’s wellbeing. Coming back into the room, you grab gauze and disinfectant. “This is gonna sting,” you warn, and he merely rests his head back onto your desk, clenching his jaw.

There’s far too much blood to wipe off completely, so you focus on cleaning the area around the wound quickly. You can’t see the bullet, and a quick question to Five confirms that it’s not lodged inside—just scraped up against some things and went on its way. You grab a few gauze pads, placing them securely against his torso with medical tape. The softness of his skin makes your heart soar and drop simultaneously, but you push the thought out of your head. You need to get him feeling better.

Once the gauze is on, you focus on cleaning up the rest of his bloodied torso. After a few minutes, Five feels the strength to sit up and take ginger sips of the water bottle you’ve offered him. The water seems to do him some good, and you sit back from cleaning his skin for a moment, relieved at the sight of some light returning to his eyes.

“Better?” you ask, sliding his shirt back on gently. He merely nods in response, lips pursed in a half-smile. His dimple is covered in sticky dried blood, and that sets you on your next mission.

“I’m gonna clean up your face, okay? You don’t want anything getting in your eyes or mouth,” you say. Five tries to protest, but you cut him off. “If you came to me for help, then you’re going to sit there and get it,” you say sternly.

“Fine,” he concedes. “Guess I brought it upon myself.” You shoot him a look and get busy.

There’s quite a bit of blood at his hairline, and you clean up the series of cuts there. His normally perfect, shiny hair is sweaty and slightly matted in spots. Before you can stop yourself, you bring a cool hand to his forehead and sweep some of the dark strands off his forehead. He makes a soft noise in response, green eyes fluttering halfway closed in relief. Your heart clenches at the sound. You take in the weary and touch-starved boy before you, all dusky skin and stirring limbs. Bending closer, you press a feather-soft, lingering kiss to his hairline before you can think better of it. His eyes shoot back open and he regards you with a look so intense you can barely decipher what’s going on.

“Okay?” you ask in a whisper.

“Please—“ he mumbles hoarsely. “Don’t—don’t stop.” Your brows draw together in both pity and overwhelming affection, and you begin to softly clean up another cut on his cheek. After the blood is soaked up by the disinfectant, you place your lips on the small wound. You give the same treatment to a spot on his chin, then to a bruise under his eye, and then to his dimple—the dimple that’s tugged at your heart every single time he’s smiled at you in the past. As your lips leave the freckled spot, you meet his eyes again.

His lids are hooded, tired. They barely close when he blinks, his eyelashes dipping down to brush the freckled apples of his cheeks. His eyes, though, are less drowsy and more intense. They regard you with something akin to both sorrow and want. You blush under their gaze, wanting to look away from their intensity but finding yourself unable to. Your hand reaches up, your middle three fingers tracing an impossibly soft line from the shell of his ear to the corner of his lips. Your fingertips pause, hovering just over where the tip of his mouth is curving into the smallest of smiles. Five’s hand comes slowly up to meet yours, his fingers enveloping yours splayed over his cheek. He breathes in, once, and the look in his eyes breathes with him. Then, the space between you is filled and your mind is narrowed down to two things: the overlapping of your fingers and lips.

He’s soft, and so so warm—almost feverish, but it just adds to the potency of every tiny movement. His mouth is both quiet and everywhere, filling up the backs of your closed eyes. You change the angle slightly, nosing his cheek as you reconnect your mouths with gentle hunger. He smiles softly, and you pull away a fraction to kiss at his dimple as it imprints itself on his cheek. His hands come up on either side of your head, softly combing through your hair before stilling at your jaw. He rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your cheeks as he kisses the bridge of your nose. His lips are lingering and filled with so much love it makes you want to cry.

“Thanks for patching me up,” he whispers, voice husky due to the quiet volume.

“If that’s what’s waiting for me every time you get hurt, I’d almost tell you to get in trouble more often,” you manage.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and you straighten his unbuttoned collar before going in again. He moans this time, soft and low, and you smirk at his exhalation.

“That good, huh?” you quip. He grimaces, indicating where you’ve accidentally pressed on the bloody gauze. Giggling an apology, you reposition yourself so that your hands are around his strong, wiry arms.

“Guess I’ll have to take another look at that,” you say.

“If you must.”

And his eyes regain their roguish light.

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mitsukui · 3 years

Text

good girl | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: stress from the shop is visibly taking its toll on George, so you decide to help him out a little bit. (PART 2! + PART 3!)

Word Count: 1,4k.

Warnings: smut! Spitting kink, face slapping, choking, dirty talk, mentions of oral sex (male receiving) and daddy kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this is the first time I’m writing something after a long, long, long pause, so I’m quite nervous about it. (｡╯︵╰｡) I hope you all enjoy it! Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention! ♡

Masterlist!

His eyes glistened with lust as he looked down at you. You had your body on the floor, thighs placed together with your delicate hands over them. With your eyes closed and tongue stuck out, the sight was almost like a mirage to George Weasley.

“Say it again.” One of his long fingers ran over your jawline, blood pumping through his veins in a rather quick way. He had been entirely bewitched.

Your eyes fluttered open, and it did not take long until his dark brown eyes met yours once more, both of your cravings for each other becoming mixed. “Let me suck your dick. Please.”

The pleading word suddenly sent novel shivers down his spine. He used the rest of his fingers to squeeze your cheeks lightly, enough only to form a pout on your already swollen lips. George loved how your lips looked after he devoured them.

It had all started out as kissing. You had been aching for some intimacy with him the entire week, but he had been exhausted due to the shop. You would never even dream of actually asking him to touch you in a different way than the one he was already touching you. The Holidays were a blessing to the twins, but they were also a curse, draining all of their energy. Your sly eyes did not fail to notice how tense he had been looking for the past few days, so you obviously had to do something about it. And you longed for him and his touch so much that you did not even care about your pleasure anymore. You were certain you would feel better only by hearing him moan.

Earlier that night, you finally got the type of attention you sought from him. It was a Sunday evening, and you bodies were spread across the couch in his flat’s living room. Your tongues easily found each other, and your hips rolled against his as your lips soon began to trail kisses down his neck. At that moment, you had him going.

When you felt him hard under your touch, you broke the contact existing between the two of you, and heard him groaning in disappointment. You allowed your body to fall down on the wooden floor, asking ever so innocently to wrap your lips around him. And now, there you were: looking up at his standing figure, and pleading again.

“Please.” Your tongue ran over your own lips, as a form of seduction and also of bringing back some comfort to you. He was acting slightly weird towards the situation, taking a long time to reply to you. “I know you have been tired, but I just want to help you relieve some tension. We don’t even need to do anything afterwards. I just really need to feel you fucking my face and getting off.”

“Open your mouth.” Once again, it took him a few moments to say anything at all. You were ready to stand up again and apologize for your bold actions and stupid babbling. But then, out of the blue, his voice interrupted the silence. It was deep and demanding, and you loved it.

This time, you did not close your eyes, since your curiosity did not allow you to. You simply opened your mouth in an O-shape, and stuck you tongue out as further as you possibly could.

Honestly, you hoped for him to thrust right inside your mouth. However, when you spotted his yet clothed manhood, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. And suddenly, you felt something.

A string of saliva traveled out of his mouth towards yours, his tall silhouette leaning down and one of his hands still holding your face. The warm liquid hit your tongue and you moaned unwillingly, surprised by how pleasant that was starting to feel.

His eyes captured the image and let it sink in for one second or two until the moment he ordered you to play with his spit. His instructions, which were voiced out in a breathy whisper, were crystal clear: you had to use your fingers, and you could not swallow it yet.

Quietness hovered over you two briefly, but he groaned once your index finger touched your own tongue, the muscle wrapping around your skin. You hollowed your cheeks as you sucked yourself, your imagination bringing some of your favorite memories back to life. George felt his member twitching inside his trousers and his tip becoming slightly wet.

Truth be told, George was a rather kinky man. And, often times, he would feel embarrassed to share everything with you. But watching you so desperately try to help him gave his insides a new wave of confidence.

Your playtime went on for a little while, but he was soon leaning down again and giving you more saliva. This time, he missed his aim a bit, and a thin string got to your chin. He was captivated by your actions and by how messy this could get.

“Swallow it.” His fingers squeezed your face with more strength as the hot fluid went down your throat. In no time, he let go of your face only for his hand to come down against it, a light slap hitting your skin. Your eyelashes blinked repeatedly out of shock, but you remained quiet. “Good girl. I bet you’re dripping for me already.”

And you were. It was hard to focus on your cunt at that point, especially because the cheek he had slapped was burning. But it was true: when you were able to finally pay attention to how you were feeling and to your own sensations, you realized your panties were heavy with arousal.

“Can you slap me again? A little bit harder this time, please…” You pleaded, and George fulfilled your wishes. A reddish spot was creeping its way to the surface, but you enjoyed the feeling.

This was all very new to you. Your boyfriend had always been pretty dominant with you, but he had never spat in your mouth or slapped your face before. Although it was a new experience, your throbbing cunt was deliciously nourishing desire in your whole body.

“Just look at that…” His deep voice pulled you out of your own trance. Your eyes darted up and met his, which were dark and devious. “My little princess looks so beautiful with a red spot on her cheek. Care to match both cheeks, darling?”

Even though his words were sweet, you felt utterly filthy. Things had escalated pretty rapidly, and you liked them enormously that way.

You slowly offered him your other cheek, the one that still had not received any attention from the delightful violence his hands gave you. His thumb ran over your skin and, for one second, you enjoyed a soft touch. However, that was soon destroyed by the stinging pain that stroke you again.

This last slap hit you hard. He murmured he had to match the color on the other side, so you just needed to be a good girl and bear the pain. Tears welled up to your eyes, but George wiped them away before they could even roll the entire way down your cheeks.

The pool of arousal in your stomach was getting into a tight knot. That moment was supposed to be about him, but you were so turned on by his recently revealed violence that you could not stop your own juices to wet your inner thighs.

“You are such a good girl, sweetheart. Being slapped and not making a fuss out of it. Maybe I should do it more often, hmm?”

You failed to hold back a raspy moan, and he smirked at your reaction. His words echoed in your ears, your head nodding up and down in agreement. You wanted to feel his hand against your skin like that whenever possible.

“Good girl. I’m so proud of you. You look beautiful like that, babe.” Both of his hands now cupped your face as he gently caressed your cheek bones. You closed your eyes at his comforting actions, but you could not lie and pretend you did not want more from him. “I’m gonna fuck your face now, okay? Gonna thrust into your mouth so deep you are going to be unable to speak properly for a while. And you’re gonna take it like the good, little slut you are, yes?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

At the mention of the never before used pet name, his breath hitched up in his throat and your eyes watched as he used his free hand to unzip his trousers. The other one was slowly sliding down your body. He kept it on the move until his fingers found your neck. George gave it a not-so-gentle squeeze and you felt air being cut from you, rolling your eyes to the back of your head in pleasure.

“Good girl.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #🌼 — personal: writings

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matcha-narancia · 3 years

Note

Romantic headcanons with shy and quiet but kind and patient s/o for Jonathan, Speedwagon, Joseph, Caesar, and Jotaro please?

A/N: Thank you for the request anon, I’ll be sectioning each request you sent up by part since they all have the same prompt! Warning(s): Some spoilers for parts 1-3 (Obviously)!

Jonathan, Speedwagon, Joseph, Caesar, and Jotaro with a Shy and Kind S/O!

Jonathan Joestar

- Jonathan is such a gentleman as we all know, so having somebody who is equally shy yet kind means you’re the perfect fit for him!

- You two take strolls together, go and have picnics, and indulge in all the luxuries of life together. And of course, you care for each other as lovers do.

- He loves you for you, treating you as his equal. He’s protective at times, but only because he would hate to have you get mixed up in his fighting with Dio!

- He appreciates that you’re always patient with him. Life often got in the way of you two, but knowing you would stay by his side and support him even still fueled him to keep going and doing his best!

- Absolutely there for you if you ever need someone to help you speak up for yourself or speak your mind. He knows that it can be hard at times, and wants to make sure you can express yourself without needing to worry.

- All in all, very very loving and compassionate, you two are such a great match!

Robert E. O. Speedwagon

- He didn’t have the best past, and you know this of course. It means the world to him that you treat him with kindness and are patient with him learning the ups and downs of living a new life away from Ogre Street.

- You’re the person he finds himself the most comfortable to be around, knowing that you won’t shun him for his less than desirable history, or anything of that sort. Your kindness touched him similarly to Jonathan, but in a romantic way!

- Definitely tries his best with taking you out on traditional dates and such, but something usually doesn’t go as planned. Either way, you two always have fun, and he always enjoys seeing you happy!

- I’d like to believe Speedwagon too has some trouble speaking, though when his voice is needed most, he’s there speaking his mind. He never pushes you to be more vocal, because he respects you. He does let you know that he’s by your side whenever you need him, though.

- He appreciates your patience more than anything. Like Jonathan, he became a busy man. His hands were very often tied with the Speedwagon Foundation, and thus he could never spend as much time with you as he would’ve liked. But you stuck with him through it all. He loves you for that.

- You were just the person for him, and you two get along so well!

Joseph Joestar

- You two are polar opposites, and yet, you have such a strong bond! Joseph definitely needs and needed a more levelheaded and soft-spoken individual to ground him, and you just so happened to pop up in his life!

- He tries to be romantic and thinks he’s all suave. Please tell him he is, he may look all confident and headstrong but deep down he’s always trying his best around you.

- Joseph… is not great with traditional or typical dates. But that’s one of the many reasons he’s so charming. He’s bold and unpredictable, and it’s balanced by your own kindness and patience!

- He also tries his best to keep you out of danger. He knows you’re a strong person even though you’re quiet, but he had so little people in his life growing up. He really wants to keep you safe and out of his fights.

- I see him as the type to tease about your shyness, but he never does it in a mean way. It’s definitely more playful, and though he wants you to speak up a bit more for yourself, he’d never push you to.

- You two go together perfectly! And Lisa Lisa is thrilled to know her son has somebody who can be by his side and keep him logical!

Caesar A. Zeppeli

- Caesar finds your qualities to be so adorable... and it’s easy to see how head over heels in love he is!

- Unlike Joseph, this man is the king of all those traditions. Sure, he’s had his relationships, and thus all his skills come from them, but when you two met he dedicated himself to you and you alone! He’ll take you in the most romantic and thoughtful dates, and you appreciate all his efforts!

- Like the others, your patience and kindness together mean the world to him. He blamed himself for his father’s death because he lacked any patience, and so knowing you’ll be there by his side through everything makes his heart melt. He values your relationship over practically everything.

- I do see Caesar as the kind of guy who would speak for you if you ever had trouble. He means no harm in it, he just wants you to get your thoughts and feelings out! However, if you don’t want to speak or don’t want him to speak for you, he will agree of course!

- Might also tease you about your shyness, but not to the lengths of Joseph. He finds it adorable more than anything, so commenting about it all the time would be a bit overkill in his opinion.

- In the end, you two are a match made in heaven! He’s always so happy to be with you!

Jotaro Kujo

- We all know Jotaro’s rather quiet himself, so it’s nice to have somebody who isn’t bugging him every 5 seconds (Polnareff). - It probably took a while for you two to get together, mostly because Jotaro was worried of ruining your friendship. But when you did, he was so thankful you accepted his feelings!

- Jotaro’s a prime example of actions over words. He looks menacing and tough and all that on the outside, and so oftentimes what he says can be taken in the wrong sense, so he settled for gestures that can speak for him.

- Again like everyone else, he really appreciates your kindness and patience. You knew the crusade to Egypt would be a long while, and so whether or not you waited or went along with you, you stayed there the entire time,

- Not the greatest at dates. He’d rather just stay inside with you and watch some sort of ocean documentary, though if you ever want to go out, he’ll lovingly begrudgingly agree.

- You’re the type of person Jotaro really needed in his life, and even though he’s not the best with words, you know he loves you so!

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jjba phantom blood #jjba part 1 #jjba battle tendency #jjba part 2 #jjba stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jonathan joestar #jonathan joestar x reader #robert e o speedwagon #speedwagon x reader #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #matcha requests

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twigg96 · 2 years

Note

1, 3, 5, 12, 13 and 14 for Skwisgaar please, tell me all the things

Anon!! 🥺 thank you so much for the ask!!! I was hoping someone would ask for Skwisgaar!! I love this man so much ❤️ Let’s see 1. Sad HC, 3. Drinking HC, 5. Fear HC, 12. Friendship HC, 13. Sex HC, 14. Romantic HC. I’m so excited let’s get going bois!!

1. Sad Headcanon:

Skwisgaar grew up in the middle of nowhere raised by a single mother who in all respects was… less than perfect. Although I feel she did her best.

- Watching Fatherklok and how Skwisgaar interacted with Tyr. I realized that he probably is not Skwisgaar’s first “Step-Father”. He probably had many Step-Fathers throughout his life. And like Tyr they all had the best intentions. To stay and love Serveta and Skwisgaar. Unfortunately Serveta’s sex addiction always pushes them away.

- Skwisgaar probably even had Step-Siblings at some point in his life. I believe he had an older Step-Brother who showed him different types of music. Showing him how to play the parts on the bass. Maybe even a younger step-brother too who he loved and was extremely protective of.

- Being ripped away from his family especially at such young ages is probably one of the main reasons he refuses to see any of his own children. He knows how it feels to have a father figure and have them ripped away. He knows what it’s like not to have a father at all. If he had to choose for his children the lesser of the two evils he’d rather they never knew he existed at all.

3. Drinking Headcanon:

Skwisgaar can party and loves to do it but can not hold his liquor at all. And he knows it.

- He needs to take his time when he drinks or else he’ll end up face down passed out on the floor faster than anyone can say, “Pass me another round!”

- If he’s mixing drugs and alcohol he absolutely is trying to sleep with whatever or whoever is in a 20 foot radius. Doesn’t matter who it is. Could be the waitress. Could be Nathan. Could be Toki. He’s hitting on them hardcore.

- He has no boundaries when he’s drunk. He will outright strip naked in public he doesn’t care.

- This doesn’t mean he looses his dignity though. He will NEVER touch anyone without express permission.

- He actually has a really soft side when he’s drinking too. He is the best listener and does the best French Braids, and manicures ever especially because his hands never shake. He loves to just sit and listen to people’s problems as they drink and give them a make over. Telling them affirmations and making sure they feel beautiful both inside before making sure they get home safely.

5. Fear Headcanon:

I hate to say it about our little Swedish golden boy but he is a little bit of a perfectionist. He is the fastest guitarist in the entire world. That has to be a lot of pressure on Skwisgaar’s shoulders.

- I believe his fear stems from losing that title or worse losing his ability to play.

- In Dethlessons Skwisgaar panics whenever Toki gets a tutor. He believes that Toki was getting one to surpass him. To take his title which in Skwisgaar’s mind was a possibility. Toki was the only guitarist Skwisgaar felt could match his playing style. The only one who actually could play as fast as him the moment they first met. Toki made him better as a guitarist because of the competition. But if Toki surpassed him their dynamic of cat and mouse would be over. Toki wasn’t a forgiving cat to just let the mouse go. He’d eat Skwisgaar alive. Or at least that’s what Skwisgaar believed. His fear pushes him to take drugs and hallucinate pushing Toki out of the band in an attempt to not only foil Toki’s “attempts” but also to keep Toki from hurting him.

12. Friendships Headcanon:

- Skwisgaar doesn’t just do friends. He can’t bring himself to trust people that much.

- He actually only has very few friends. But once he does consider someone a friend he will do anything for them.

- Of course he’ll be nice to most people. Call them pal and buddy. But he’ll never let his true self show until he trusts them fully.

13. Sex Headcanon:

I actually just did a Headcanon on this but I will sneak a few in here for you 😏

- Skwisgaar never wears protection. Ever. He has some BS excuse on why he can’t wear it and it’s all documented in the waver anyone who sleeps with him has to fill out before continuing on his bedroom. (His form of protection is a douche he has the Gears hand out as people leave like a little goodie bag 🤦‍♀️)

- Skwisgaar has had all the STDs. I’m sorry but we all know it’s true.

- I’ll say it once I’ll say it again. Skwisgaar is the king of oral. His finger game 10/10 wouldn’t even doubt it. All around Sex God.

14. Romantic Headcanon:

- Skwisgaar doesn’t date. He just doesn’t. It’s too much commitment and we all know he is terrified of committing to anything.

- It would really have to be someone really special for Skwisgaar to want to settle down and start dating monogamously. But fact is, his partner better get used to sharing Skwisgaar in more ways than one. Skwisgaar would still be the center of everyone’s attention. Being the fastest guitarist in the world means having lots of raving fans. But he would always be sure to let his S/O know that they were their number one once he got home.

- The first time Skwisgaar takes his S/O on a real date. People know things are serious between the two.

- Dates would normally be low key at first. Skwisgaar taking his S/O to the beach he bought out for some privacy. Or on a shopping spree in a store he rented out just for them.

- Once he and his S/O come out he starts taking them with him everywhere. Showing them off to everyone he meets. Telling everyone how proud he is of them.

#thank you so much for the ask!!#hc ask game #anon ask #ask meme #ask #metalocalypse #metalocalypse headcanon #dethklok #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #nathan explosion

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