#it plays fucking perfectly and is better than the original

[thisgodwontforgiveyou]

i dont have an activity powerful enough to distract me from how bad separate ways is when i put it on in the background

#i cannot believe its actually genuinely worse than the base game like forreal #i thought it would just be worse bc the gameplay was worse cus thats usually what ppl bitch about #mi not sure id say it drags the whole experience down both bc i cant play it to know how the gameplay factors in for all i know #it plays fucking perfectly and is better than the original #but also bc the game is past a threshold of bad where you just kind of marvel at any different kind of sub-badness it has #its honestly rly reminds me a lot of the ada campaign in re6 in that way where im just like damn you really tried huh

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

#i got lazy again #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod fic #cod mw x reader #cod mw 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fluff

[muchosbesitos]

hear me out, we already know Miguel is probably touch-starved, but imagine him being really touch-starved. Maybe the reader is a baker or smth so she's naturally sweet (wink wink nudge nudge) and maybe just a little chubby. Miguel is always shy about asking readers for small things, like kisses and hugs, but she's really nice about it.

One day, Miguel has had a bad day and goes over to the reader's house for cuddles and is very grumpy about it, which makes reader kinda surprised and flustered to see how demanding he is about it. But as he's cuddling with her, he is very touchy per se and won't stop kneading parts of reader's thighs and shmoobis, which makes her really flustered but she doesn't want to ruin Miguel's moment

this could be smutty but fluff and the end because Miguel deserves a little sweetness in his life

sweetest bite

pairing: miguel o’hara x chubby fem reader

contents: thigh fucking, nipple play, mating press, miguel being a munch (as per usual), oral (m), improper use of frosting, aftercare(ish)

author’s note: i’m so behind on requests i’m so sorry, i promise i’ll get to work on them 😭 i hope you still enjoy this though. trying sum new with the whole layout so lmk your thots 🥸

word count: 6.8k (yeah idk how to explain this one chief)

You were the sweetest thing miguel allowed himself to indulge in. Well, you and your pastries. He'd gotten so used to sacrificing his happiness for the better of the multiverse, of sacrificing everything that he had to give just to make sure that it stayed intact. But, he couldn't stay away from the little baker that set shop on 11th street in Nueva York.

"You should go and visit this little shop I found a couple days ago. The empanadas are to die for," Jess had told him after the last batch at the HQ hadn't been up to par with his standards. He wasn't expecting much out of his visit, the most he was hoping for was decent replacement for the botched empanadas and a cup of coffee. After all, Jess had never strayed him in the wrong direction in terms of food.

The scent of cinnamon and a pinch of vanilla filled up his nostrils as he walked into the shop, the aroma providing a homely feeling. It didn't compare to the other shops scattered around the city, the ones who smelt like stale bread and probably had rats scattering around in this back. Every single space from the shop looked clean, the white floors beneath his feet almost showing his reflection.

No, this was one was nice. From the peonies that you had on a vase at the front desk to the sheer decoration of the walls, a couple paintings scattered across the pink and white walls. Nothing looked out of place, everything seemed to coordinate perfectly. The lofi music playing in the background only added to the atmosphere, putting him in a more relaxed mood than he originally was. His jaw unclenched and his muscles were slack, a sense of calmness rushing through him.

The people inside also seemed to have a silent understanding that the atmosphere was supposed to be relaxing, conversations exchanged in light whispers. It was a nice change of pace from the usual bustling streets of Nueva York, almost like a place where time seemed to stop completely. A place that was an escape from the city, a safe haven of sorts. It provided him with a sense of normalcy he wasn't even aware that he wanted.

He normally didn't spend time appreciating the aesthetic of a place given how busy his schedule was, but he could see the appeal of this little shop. He almost regretted not finding this shop earlier, it provided with more relaxation than he'd ever find at the empty tables of the HQ cafeteria. There was nobody here that knew him, nobody there to avoid his presence or criticize his actions. Everyone just regarded him like he was one of their own, continuing on with their conversations.

What Jess had failed to mention to him before he came here is that the owner would be so enthralling. You weren't doing much apart from tapping something into the register yet you still managed to capture his attention. He wanted to look away to avoid coming off as a creep but his eyes seemed to defy his brain's instructions, keeping his attention solely for you. The chatter in the background died to a low hum as he watched you hand a paper bag to the man in front of you.

"How's your wife and kids?" He couldn't help but be taken aback when the question slipped from your lips, surprised at the gesture. Most of the people in Nueva York were so consumed in their own lives that they didn't bother to remember much about anybody else, much less ask any questions that didn't serve them an individual gain. Even with his enhanced hearing, all he could focus was on what you were saying like a siren luring him in.

He could tell from the little smile on your face that the man was engaging in the conversation, your hands struggling to keep up as you talked with him. He'd overheard you mention something about packing in a few extra cookies for the kids, his heart swelling at a gesture that wasn't even meant for him. You and the man kept talking for about another minute before he told you goodbye and you waved at him as he departed the shop. Miguel was next in line, but he felt his feet stuck to the ground like quicksand.

He was so enticed by the sight of you, the way your eyes illuminated under the white lights. Lighting that would normally make someone appear sickly only seemed to accentuate your features out to him even more. "Next, please," your voice came out like sheer honey to his ears, snapping him out of the trance he was in. He took two steps forward, coming up to the register. He'd spent so much of time simply just looking at you that he hadn't even bothered to look over the menu. You didn't annoyed at him for holding up the line, your finger tapping against the marble countertop as you waited for his decision.

"I'll get two of your conchas and three of your empanadas with a hot roast coffee," he finally spoke up after a while, looking over from the menu to you. "You want the empanadas made out of flour or corn?" You inquired after typing the order into the register. "I’ll get corn, please," he pulled out his wallet as he spoke, handing you much more than the amount showing up on the screen. You tried to give him back the change, but it only ended up in the pink tip jar you had set next to the register.

"Can I get a name for your order, please?" You asked him before he had the chance to walk away, his footsteps coming to a stop before he turned over to face you. "Miguel," he responded before he finally stepped away, leaving you feeling flustered and confused. The way his voice sounded to your ears was something out of pure sin, a part of you wanting to indulge in that as much as possible. But you refused to make a big deal out of the mildly handsome customer, refused to make a big deal out of the fleeting glances he shot your way and the way he also seemed to feel a spark between the two of you when your hands touched.

You could feel his stare as you kneaded the dough, but you didn't seem to mind it all that much. It seemed more like he was analyzing you, the way that you moved rather than something predatory. You had a small radio set up in the back to liven up the mood while you were baking, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the salsa song playing. You hummed along to the beat, setting the pan in the oven. You leaned against the counter as you waited, all the other goods pretty much set for another couple hours.

"Miguel!" You called out, watching as he got off the spot he was leaning on and walked over to you. He thanked you once you handed him the paper bag, his fingertips almost seeming to purposely want to touch yours this time around. Nope. Not gonna make a big deal out it. You forced yourself to look away from him as he stepped away from the counter, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted the next customer coming in. Greta. You'd taken the time to learn these people's names and learn what it is that they tended to get just to give them a sense of being seen.

The first bite of the concha had been delectable, a low moan escaping from his lips as he savored the taste of the warm cinnamon and vanilla blending together. He hadn't had a concha like this one since he took a business trip to Mexico. While Nueva York was quickly adjusting to fit the needs of the diversifying population, it didn't mean that every restaurant provided that taste of home he was longing for. Most of them just felt like a cheap replacement of the real thing, the taste usually bland and lacking seasoning.

But now he had an entirely different dilemma on his hands. a part of him wanted to eat the concha slowly, savor every bite of the treat while the other part of him wanted to scarf it down as quickly as he could. Eventually he lost the battle against his self control, eating the two conchas and one of the empanadas. Every part of this evening had surpassed his expectations, the empanadas being more than 'decent.' He would normally be more careful in the way that he ate, but now, crumbs were making their way down his black shirt and to his pants. Yet, he could seem to care less.

"How'd you like the treats? I haven't seen you around before so I'm assuming it's your first time," You asked him as he stepped up to the register, your head tilting back slightly to look at the man in the eyes. The afternoon sunlight coming from the door accentuated his eyes, almost making them look like a melting pot of rubies. While your shop was met with various different people everyday at almost every hour, you knew that you couldn't forget him even if you tried. His name still rang like a melody throughout your head.

"Liked them so much i'm planning on buying another concha," he told you, sliding one hand into the pocket of his pants to take his wallet out. "I'm glad you liked them so much. That'll be two dollars," you told him, taking the money from him and setting it in the cash register. You waved at him as he left, convincing yourself that the look back he gave after stepping out of the shop hadn't been for you. Even if you really wished that it would've been. All you could do was just hope that he would come back again soon.

Going back to work had proven to be more of a struggle than he originally thought, His mind replaying the small moments between the two of you. Your hand grazing against his as you handed him the cup of coffee. The smile that seemed to be just a little bit wider when directed towards him. He could still feel his hand tingling from the spot where you'd touched him, your touch electrifying him every way possible.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself as he opened up one of the files on the monitors, the words blurring together despite his best efforts to maintain his focus. He felt like a fool, being in his 30s and obsessing over somebody in this manner like he was a school boy. Despite the fact that he felt like a fool, he couldn't help the smile that threatened to overcome his features at just the mere thought of seeing you again in that little pink apron. All he could do was munch on the extra concha that he'd bought, his mind constantly wandering back to you.

Miguel hadn't attempted to be in a relationship after finding his ex and his father sleeping together, the experience being enough to traumatize him for this lifetime and the next. He'd given up on being a romantic, of going through the motions of learning what a woman's favorite color was and gifting her flowers that ended up wilting by the hour. He'd engaged in a few hookups from time to time, though he only ended up feeling like an asshole afterwards. They expected his call back, only to have their text not even go through. But.. he wasn't interested in you for that.

Sure, he could admit it to himself that you were probably one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. The way your hips moved in the shop was hypnotic, the small movement making all sorts of domestic thoughts run through his head. But he wanted to know what it was that made you tick, what made you laugh, what it is that made you cry. He didn't see you as a prize to gain, but rather as something that he wanted to treasure. Someone that he could see himself coming home to after a long day of work.

The week following his first visit, he'd been buried under mountains of work. Whether it be misplaced files, a sudden surge of anomalies popping up, or just the daily Spider-Man activities that he was tasked with. He'd been looking for a spare opportunity to go back into your shop, maybe ask for your number this time around, but that opportunity usually got shot down with the amount of work he had due. He'd only managed to get a couple glimpses of you when he happened to swing by your store a couple times, his memory saving the moment like an sd card.

He'd managed to get a few moments to himself on a Friday, leaving immediately to go to your bakery before he got stopped by one of the members. He'd barely had one interaction with you and he was already starting to feel depraved having to go a couple days without talking to you. The bell placed on top of the door announced his arrival as he came in, your attention shifting from the counter you were restocking over to the door. You looked as beautiful as every time he's had the pleasure of seeing you.

"Thought you might've found another bakery to go to, Miguel. After you complimented my conchas too," you spoke first, giving him a teasing smile as he approached the counter. "There's no other bakery that would be able to size up to this one. I just got busy with work is all," he knew that you were just teasing him, but he still wanted to explain himself to you. Though he wasn't sure if you'd even thought about him that much. but surely you had, since you noted his absence. He was struggling the same as you were not to let these little gestures go to his head.

"Do you want what you got last time?" You asked him, his heartbeat thundering against his own ears. It was like you were trying to kill him now. He could understand why so many people came to your bakery now, for that feeling of being seen by you. Of getting that sense of meaning something to someone, well at least enough for you to remember their order. "Make it three conchas instead of two this time, please," he responded, once again giving you way much more than the amount had totaled out to be before going to wait for his order.

All he knew was that he had to have more than the complimentary conversation with you, but he couldn't figure out how to approach it. "The shop isn't too busy, what would you say to having a cup of coffee with me?" He mustered up the courage to ask you, his gaze almost burning into your soul as he waited for an answer. He hoped that he wouldn't push you away with this sudden offer, hoping that it hadn't been too forward on his part. He'd meant for it as a friendly outing for you to relax a while, but he wouldn't be able to deny the fact that he was already thinking of how to ask you on a date.

You looked around the shop to find that it was indeed empty, only a couple people talking amongst themselves left. Even if someone walked in, you had another employee that would be able to assist them. "Sure, let me just go hang up my apron and I’ll go join you," you finally spoke up after taking a couple seconds to consider, turning around to mask the excitement threatening to overcome your body. You slid off your apron and set it to the side, getting yourself a cup of coffee before walking over to the booth Miguel was sitting at. It almost felt ridiculous to admit to yourself that you were able to now find him in every room that he stepped in with ease.

"How long have you been a baker for?" He asked you after taking a bite of his concha, wiping away the crumbs that lingered onto his white shirt. "I've been baking for some time now, since I was in like middle school? I used to practice with an easy bake oven when I was younger before evolving into actually edible things," you shared with him, your eyes practically lighting up at the prospect of getting to talk about something that meant a lot to you. Conversation flowed easily enough between the two of you, an exchange of questions being asked from both sides.

You looked up over to the door when you heard the bell ringing, the second wave of customers walking in. As much as you would've liked to continue talking with him, you knew that your one employee wouldn't be able to handle the rush by themselves. "It was lovely talking to you. but I have to get going back to work," you stood up from the table as you spoke, grabbing the empty cup of coffee. Before you got the chance to walk away though, Miguel wrapped his arm around your wrist. Not tight enough for it to hurt, but certainty enough for it to make you stop in your tracks.

"I want to go on a date with you. I'd really like to keep talking with you, if that's something you wanted," he told you, his grip around your wrist loosening before eventually letting go. You grabbed a napkin from the corner of the table and a pen from your pocket, hastily scribbling out your number on it. "Just text me and we can work something out. I want to keep talking to you too," you responded before you went back to work, though your mind wasn't too much on the baked goods as much as it was on Miguel for the rest of the evening.

Your first date with Miguel was something that you'd never forget, the way he looked over at you every time you had something to share about yourself or the way that he let some of his walls down to let you pass through. But the way that his lips felt against yours was the most memorable part of the evening, your apartment lights just illuminating enough for you to make out the shape of his face. Every date following that one was a moment of absolute bliss, time seeming to stop whenever you two were together.

You were at the dining table when he came back from work, your brows furrowed in concentration as you mixed the bowl in your hands. The sweet aroma of vanilla reminded him that he was home again. The light at the end of a tunnel. it almost got him out of the mood that he was in. Almost. The exhaustion and annoyance from the day managed to maintain their claws on him, his footsteps trudging up the stairs as he went to change. He deactivated his suit, pulling a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tee over himself before going back downstairs.

You'd heard the door open but you were surprised to find that Miguel didn't bother to greet you the same way he used to. 'Cariño, ya llegue,' he'd say after a long day at work, (honey i’m home) Usually taking a seat across from you at the dining table just to hear you talk about your day. You figured that he just needed some space, that he'd come to you if he wanted that sense of intimacy from you again. You busied yourself with mixing in the dry ingredients along with the wet ones, almost ready to put the batter in the oven.

"Missed you so bad, hermosura," you heard from behind you, large arms wrapping around your stomach while his head rested on your shoulder. You were about to tell him that the sentiment was mutual when you felt his hands making their way up to your breasts, kneading them in his hands. He let out a contented sigh as he felt your body mold underneath his hands, having you turn into putty at just the smallest touch. He'd never been this touchy with you before, well he'd never been the one to start off this type of contact.

As much as he liked the feeling of your lips molding against his, the feeling of having your body pressed against him with every hug that he gave you, he never asked for it. He was just.. too shy to even try to start it off. He figured that it would come off as something weird, that his inexperience towards having intimate moments would be shed into the light. He knew that you wouldn't make fun of him for that, but a part of him couldn't help but be wary. He usually just tended to wait until you came up to him, wrapping your arms around him as you sought out for the comfort that only he could provide.

You felt your body being ignited into flames from the way he was touching, your body a manual that he had read thousands of times before. He knew everything that would turn your little head off to anything other than him. You didn't want to stop him now that he was feeling comfortable enough to initiate contact with you, but you'd almost mixed in a spoonful of salt rather than sugar. You willed yourself to finish up with the batter, your hands shaking as you brought the electric mixer down to the bowl.

"Miguel, lemme focus on finishing up with this batch and we can do whatever you want after that," you tried to negotiate with him, the plea landing on deaf ears as his hands travelled down to the expanse of your ass. Your back was arching instinctively, reacting solely to his commands. Sometimes it felt like he had more control of your body than you ever did, every little thing that he did serving a purpose to arouse you even further. He squeezed gently, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder.

"Don't let me interrupt you. Sigue con tus pastelitos e ignora mis caricias," his voice dropped about an octave as he spoke, his lips dangerously close to your ear. (keep at it with your cupcakes and ignore my caresses) Surely he must've known that what he was telling you to do was pointless. He knew the effect that he had on your body, knows the effect that he's having on you at this moment. You let out a small sigh of relief once the batter had finished mixing in, pouring it in slowly into the pan. You stepped off to the side, putting the pan inside the oven before turning to face Miguel.

"Let me just have your thighs, I won't ask for more," he murmured, his hands coming down to your thighs while his thumbs rubbed small circles on them. At your approval, he went over and sat down at the dining table, his legs spreading to give you access to sit down. He looked like a king sitting down on his throne, his large thighs taking up most of the space on the chair. Almost like he demanded respect. His thighs flexed with every movement, your legs moving on their own accord to get closer to him.

"You have approximately," you started off, your eyes shifting over to the small clock on the kitchen counter, "ten minutes." He let out a small chuckle, lifting his hips up to slide his sweatpants just underneath his balls. He'd made it a habit of going commando underneath his suit, the habit following into his daily attire as well. His cock was already starting to leak precum onto his stomach despite the fact you two hadn't done anything too extreme yet. "That's okay. I only needed nine anyways."

You sat down in between his legs, squeezing your thighs together while the tip of his cock prodded at the underside of your legs. You felt the chair creaking underneath you as he thrusted his hips into your thighs. "Would've done this sooner if I would've known it felt this good. Love your thighs so much, mami," despite the fact that he tried to keep up with his dominant persona, he would do anything if it meant he got to have you like this again.

His hands travelled up his your shirt, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Your back was flush against his chest as your mouth slightly opened, heavy breaths escaping from your lips. His slick coated the insides of your thighs, wetting them in his essence. Your hand went down to where the tip of his cock was poking through, your thumb rubbing small circles alongside the tip.

"Close your legs a little more for me mami."

"Yeah, just like that," he managed to get out through labored breaths, your thighs squeezing his cock in a similar way that your pussy would. You felt his mouth making its way down your throat, nibbling on the sensitive spots that would have you squirming. His touch was everywhere except for where you needed him the most, your desperation towards the situation growing even further. For someone who'd only agreed to thigh fucking, you seemed to be regretting it already.

You felt your slick leaking down from your folds down to the thin material of your panties, one of your hands reaching down to alleviate the tension building inside you. You hadn't even managed to make it to the waistband before Miguel was already pulling your fingers away, holding it with his other hand. "So greedy. Only I'm allowed to please that little pussy, remember," he warned you, though his voice carried no actual sense of danger to it given how needy he sounded. He made it a point to be the only one to please you, not your own fingers and certainly not anybody else's fingers.

He was rutting into your thighs at an erratic pace, no sense of stability as he felt his balls start to tighten up with every second that your warm thighs enveloped him. That was until he heard the loud 'RING' from the countertop. "No te pares. I'm almost there," he tried to speak over the sound of the timer's ring but you were already standing up by the time he'd finished speaking. (don’t stand up) You wiped away the sweat that accumulated on your forehead, taking a couple deep breaths to get your breathing back to normal.  "What happened to only needing nine minutes?"

He let out a small huff as he pulled his sweatpants back on, staying seated at the dinner table. Miguel wanted nothing more than to take you right now, but he was willing to be patient for a couple more minutes. You bent over to take the cupcakes out of the oven, the scent of vanilla hitting your nose instantly. You almost jumped at the feeling of miguel's hands rubbing your ass through your panties if it hadn't been for the fact you had a hot pan in your hands. You placed the pan down, taking the cupcakes out of it and setting them on a plate to get them ready for the frosting portion.

"Ah fuck," you trembled out as you felt Miguel's breath fan against your wet cunt, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sensation. "Already so wet and I haven't even touched her yet," he murmured, spreading your folds with two of his fingers. He let a globe of spit trail from your ass down to your cunt, feeling his cock strain against his sweatpants. He could feel your clit pulsing underneath his fingertips, your body betraying you when you said you wanted to wait. You wanted this as much as he did. If not, maybe even more.

You pushed your hips back onto his face as he pushed his tongue into your wet cunt, feeling your slick coat every single one of his tastebuds at the contact. He knew how proud you were of the baked goods you made, but none of them would ever compare to the taste of your essence. The frosting on the cupcakes started to come out lopsided as you tried to squeeze it on, your hands shaking every time you tried to bring the pipe up to them. "Don't stop," you moaned out, eventually just giving up on the task of trying to keep frosting the cupcakes. The perfectionist in you couldn't stand seeing the sight of the uneven plaster of frosting.

Miguel ate out your cunt like he was a starving man, the task messy as he spat into it and pushed his tongue inside you. Your slick mixed with his spit, the taste of you almost making him delirious. You gripped the countertop tightly, your eyes fluttered shut as you basked in everything that Miguel was giving you. His tongue swirled around your clit in small circles, the sudden stimulation having your toes curling and your eyes seeing stars. You turned around to look at him, your slick coating majority of his chin while some of it dribbled down to his shirt. His eyes were tightly shut as he focused on the task at hand, almost seeming more into it than you were.

You brought your hand up to his hair, tugging at the roots as you pushed him closed to your pussy. He'd vocalized before about how much he liked the mixture of pain and pleasure, a moan vibrating into your cunt as a response. You felt yourself getting closer to that climax, Miguel’s tongue continuing its motions on your clit while his thick fingers opened you up to take his cock later on. You let out an exasperated sigh when you felt him pull away from you just as you were about to cum, though that was quickly shut down when he pressed his lips onto yours.

You got down on your knees, wet kisses marking his tan skin as you made your way down his stomach. You looked over at him, the sight in front of you truly something to behold. His head was lolled back, half-lidded eyes as he met your gaze. His chest heaved with every breath that he took, growing heavier as he felt your lips starting to make their way down his happy trail. He'd stopped bothering to shave it after noticing how much you liked it, the way you licked your lips every time his sweatpants clung a little too low on his hips.

Though his cock was twitching with need right in front of you, painfully erect, you decided to take your time. You kissed his inner thighs, occasionally marking him the same way he'd do to you. Your fingernails raked their way down his thighs, the muscles tensing underneath your touch. You wanted to tease him just as much as he'd teased you earlier, wanting some type of comeback after your ruined orgasm. You delivered a couple more kisses before making your way to his cock, pressing a kiss on the reddened tip.

“Hand me that bag of frosting, please," your voice came out uncharacteristically seductive to your own ears. You'd grown so used to being the sweet girl at the bakery that you hadn't expected yourself to even be a seductress. Miguel reached over to grab the pipe with vanilla frosting inside, handing it over to you. You squirted a little bit of the frosting onto his shaft, setting the pipe aside before leaning in. Your mouth wrapped around his cock, your tongue licking the stripe of frosting up before pulling away. "Think you're gonna kill me, little minx."

Miguel's hands went down to the sides of your head as you took him in your throat, soft moans escaping from his lips. Spit dribbled down the side of his shaft, your hand wrapping around it as you worked it up and down. Though your hand was smaller than his, he enjoyed the feeling of having you jerk him off. Your touch felt more delicate than his own, which tended to be a series of harsh thrusts just to get a quick orgasm. Your mouth came down to his cock again, taking him in much deeper than last time.

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to make up for what your mouth couldn't reach, both working in tandem. Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take him in deeper, willing the muscles in your throat to relax while you did so. "That's it, taking me so well. Nadie me lo chupa mejor que tu," he praised you as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth.

As much as he wanted to cum inside your mouth and see the way that you struggled to sometimes keep his heavy load inside, he wanted nothing more than to cum inside your pussy beforehand. He pulled you off as the height of his peak, watching your eyes flicker over to his in confusion. You were pretty sure you were doing everything that he wanted you to do from his reactions, the way his moans just so freely escaped from his mouth.

"You didn't do anything wrong. just want to cum inside you before anything else," he assured you after seeing the expression of your face, helping you up from the floor. He wiped away the precum mixed in with your spit from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, holding it against your lips. He watched as your tongue darted out before enveloping his finger into your mouth. The way your tongue wrapped around it was heavenly, your eyes shutting as you cleaned off his finger.

Miguel went over to the sink and ran a paper towel under cold water, cleaning any remnants of the frosting that might've been left behind. The last thing the both of you needed was for you to get a UTI as a result from this encounter. He came back over to you, kissing your cheek and muttering some apology about the cupcakes. Not that you cared about them anyways, all you could think about was Miguel having his way with you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined with his, leading you out of the kitchen and out into the living room.

Miguel led you over to the couch, raising your knees up to your chest. You placed your hands underneath your legs, watching as Miguel gave himself a couple languid strokes before slowly pushing his cock inside. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out as he felt your walls fluttering against him, your cunt stretching to adjust to him. Your mouth was parted in a 'o' shape as he pushed his cock even further, your wetness coating his shaft with every delicious inch that he pushed inside.

He loved looking down at you in this position, at how your face contorted into one of pleasure as the sting from the stretch settled in. The way that your tits bounced in sync with every single one of his punishing thrusts. He loved every single part of you, even the parts that you found yourself complaining about at times. He wanted to drill into your head that you were desire embodied, that nobody would be able to compare to the way that you do. No one was even close to comparing to you in his eyes.

Your body was basically bent in half as you laid there to take every single inch that he had to offer, the tip of his cock bulging against your tummy. "Feel how deep I am in you, mami?" He murmured, pressing his hand down where he was at before retreating his cock in one swift motion. The loss was quickly replaced when he thrusted back inside you, relishing the feeling of your walls clenching around him like a vice.

His heavy balls smacked against your ass with every thrust that he made, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. The loud squelch of your essence coating his cock added onto the symphony of sounds, moans escaping from the two of you as he started to get deeper with his thrusts. You felt filled up to the brim, yet it almost felt like you weren't getting enough. The desire you felt for Miguel wasn't something that was easily satiated, if anything it only grew more with the attention that he was giving you.

The hand that wasn't holding your legs came over to his arm, gripping it tightly for some kind of thing to tether you down to the moment. Your pussy clamped around him a vice, prompting him closer to his orgasm. He prolonged it as long as he could, reciting useless science facts inside of his head. An octopus has three hearts. Though his stamina was high enough to get hard after his orgasm, he didn't want to ruin the moment between the two of you by cumming prematurely.

One of his hands went down to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves between his thumb and pointer finger. He rubbed small circles on it, his speed matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his forearm the harder that his thrusts got, the pain only serving to accentuate his pleasure. "Fuck. Pussy's practically milking me," he uttered, his voice coming out in a groan at the way you were squeezing around him.

Your legs dropped down from your chest, wrapping around his legs as you held him close to you. If he'd even fathomed the idea of pulling out beforehand, the idea was quickly removed from the forefront of his brain the moment you did that. "Cum in me, please," your voice came out whiny as you felt yourself getting closer to that release, your toes curling from every rub being given to your clit. "Cum with me."

His hand enveloped yours as he slid in and out of you with ease, his pace having no rhythm now that he was approaching his orgasm. His thrusts were erratic as he worked the two of you towards that cliff, his fingers gripping yours tightly as if you were a lifeline. Warm ropes of cum shot up your cunt, your walls coated in white up to the brim. His orgasm had prompted your own, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you creamed over his shaft.

Your release mixed with his to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, some of the liquid leaking out from your cunt. He stuffed it back in with the tip of his cock to the best of his ability, a moan escaping from your throat at the feeling of him sliding in once more. While you could usually match his stamina pretty well, it'd been days since you'd last had sex with him. You were starting to feel worn out from the physical strain he'd put your body through. You wouldn’t change this feeling of euphoria for anything else though.

Miguel slid his softening cock out of your cunt slowly, careful not to overstimulate you in the process. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on your forehead, wiping away the sweat from your forehead. "You did so good for me, lindura," he whispered in your ear, stroking your thighs in soft circles before standing up from the couch. "Stay there and I'll come back with some clothes."

You looked over at him and gave him a nod, your body falling limp on the couch as you felt an ache forming on your legs. You closed your eyes for a second, or what you'd assumed was a second, only to open them to see Miguel standing over you with a pair of pajama shirts and one of his t-shirts. "Try to sit up for me. You don't have to anything," he reassured you, getting to work on cleaning you up before dressing you after you'd sat up.

The two of you sat on the couch with a cheesy romance movie the two of you weren't watching, each holding a cupcake. His hand wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to his body as his hand lazily drew circles on the side of your stomach. "I see why you liked that thing with the frosting. It's pretty sweet," he noted after taking a bite from his cupcake, leaning over to grab some that was sitting on your nose for a while. You let out a small contented laugh, poking the side of his cheek. There was no other place that you'd rather be other than his arms at this moment.

taglist 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

#muchosbesitos #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara oneshot #miguel o’hara self insert #smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fic #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman atsv

[ghostandsoap]

Sitting with a Show

John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem! Reader Tags: NSFW. Smut. Cockwarming. Soap being a jerk lol. A/N: Horrible title. Will change it when I come up with something better. Word Count: 1.0k "Your odds are lookin' good."

"Hey, hey..." Soap warned, his grip on your hips tightening. "Stop it. Watchin' the game here."

"John, this is ridiculous," You hissed. "There will be a million soccer games other than this one."

"Football," He corrected, giving the side of your thigh a smack. "None of that soccer rubbish."

"It's the same thing," You gruffed, whimpering when he shifted his hips underneath you. "Every game is the same."

His tip hit the furthest part inside of you that it could, and your arms and legs were beginning to get fuzzy. Soap's cock had been stuffed inside of you for what felt like hours now - completely hard and prodding at all the right places.

He was perfectly comfortable, sunken into the mattress, propped up just enough so he could properly see the TV that was screaming with bright colors of soccer field turf and fans dressed for their team in the stands. He could see the screen over you, much to your demise.

To be completely honest, this whole ordeal did seem fun at first. It was something different, and something you hadn't tried before. It was arousing to think about Soap being buried inside of you with no promise of friction or relieving stimulation. It was supposed to drive him crazy. It was supposed to make him desperate for you...make him beg for you.

However, it seemed that your devious plan fell apart when he decided to take advantage of it and turn the tables on you.

"I don't know why you're complainin' so much," He chuckled, completely unbothered. "This was your idea, sweet stuff."

So now, you were stuck with him taunting you and torturing you with his cock by doing nothing with it - and he was too invested in his stupid soccer/football game to even think about giving in. His eyes were glued to the TV screen behind you, his gaze barely peeling away for merely a moment.

He was having fun watching you fall apart over his attention being elsewhere in a situation where you were fully naked and at his disposal. The circumstances were great for an even better lovemaking session. But Soap was having too much fun playing the game you originally intended to play.

"I might as well go home at this point," You growled, seriously considering getting up and leaving. "So fucking annoying."

At this point, it was beginning to piss you off more than anything. It was the frustration with his stubbornness and irritation for not getting what you wanted. Frankly, you were beginning to feel bad for previously wishing this upon him.

"Hey...don't be like that," He said in a tone that was demanding, but also sympathetic. "We're havin' fun, princess."

His eyes were set on you now, his irises moving back and forth as he focused on your expression to see if this was beginning to become too much for you. Soap could be a bit intentionally aggressive in the bedroom sometimes, but he never let it get to the point where you weren't enjoying yourself.

He studied carefully, looking for anything that let him know he needed to stop. You were definitely getting antsy, and every minute that passed you were growing more needy.

But you weren't at your breaking point...yet.

"You're having fun," You growled, tears beginning to form in your lower lash line. "I'm not getting-"

To shut you up, Soap gave a quick, firm thrust up into you, making a strained cry leave your throat at the feeling of finally having some kind of movement. Soap let out a low, erotic groan at the sound of your wetness getting pushed around and the sight of it smeared onto his lower stomach made his cock twitch within you. He stayed still for a moment, only moving again when your shoulders relaxed.

He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.

He fucked you slow for a bit, giving you just enough to begin to satisfy you, but not enough to curb your craving for him. He saw your blown pupils and flushed skin, tell-tale signs that you were completely maxed out and ready for more.

Too bad he had a soccer game to watch.

His hip movements stopped, and you were back to square one - completely swallowing his cock between your legs, but no promise or sign of anything more. The look on your face was priceless - an overwhelming expression of disappointment, disbelief, and betrayal. Soap would've felt bad for you...except he didn't.

"You're...you're gonna fuck me, right?" You asked, words breathy and voice barely audible.

He gave a chuckle so mischievous and smug that it almost made you tear up again. He reached for one of your hands, pressing your knuckles to his lips with a smirk.

"Sure, I'll fuck you..." He gave a shit eating grin when he saw your eyes light up. "...if they win."

Against your better judgment, you turned your head to look at the TV, your stomach dropping when you saw that the game was just over halfway through the first half...and the scores were tied. Not only did you have another half to go, but there was a chance that you might make it to the end of the game and receive no end to this torture at all. Maybe if you were lucky, you could convince him during halftime.

Soap laughed again at your agitated look, giving your backside a playful squeeze.

"Cheer up, pretty girl. They've had a good year so far," He said, referring to his preferred team. "Your odds are lookin' good."

Soap wasn't showing any signs of letting up, and you didn't have a choice but to endure the rest of this game and hope for a winning game.

This was going to be the longest game of your life.

#soap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x fem! reader #soap smut #soap fanfiction #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x fem! reader #john mactavish smut #john mactavish fanfiction #cod modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare ii #modern warfare iii #modern warfare ii fanfiction #modern warfare iii fanfiction #ghostandsoap

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering. 

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball. 

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though. 

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight. 

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you. 

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you. 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you. 

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others. 

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?" 

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?" 

"I could never claim otherwise." 

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?” 

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.”  He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.  

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.” 

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.)  But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets. 

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend. 

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people. 

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face. 

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs." 

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear. 

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion. 

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #star wars fanfiction #my pen #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fics #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan smut

[aceyogurt]

I was wondering if you're okay writing an Angel Dust. M!Reader. More specifically Drag Angel Dust. I haven't seen anyone make these before so this is an original idea. A one-shot if perfect, but you can do whatever you want. You can do this as smut or fluff, it doesn't matter! Have a great rest of your day!!

Late night show (NSFW)

A/n: HEYYYY SORRY FOR THIS TAKING SO LONG. I’ve been like dead I know anywaysssssss Angel Dust smut and he’s a drag queen!!!! Okay little note tho I don’t much about drag nor have I written male x male smut before so I apologize if it’s not the best!

Word count: 1.5k

It was an annoyingly long work day today, and the feeling inside yourself was of complete emptiness with a small amount of annoyance. Usually, whenever a day would go on like this you'd get home, open a bottle, and drink till the bottom, but tonight was different. You had been overhearing talk of this new drag show which was supposed to have some good acts. (along with cheap booze). While you’ve never been particularly interested in drag shows you figured fuck it why not. (and again cheap booze was enough to cash you in). 

Figuring that these types of places aren’t exactly ‘formal’ you changed out of your work uniform, and now the issue came to what you would wear since you didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. You decided a simple color crop top with some shorts would work. And so you were on your way! Luckily the place wasn’t hard to find because, when coming up to it bright pink neon signs filled your view, Spiders Lounge underneath in smaller print stated it was both a drag show and bar.

Entering the place it was a more typical club set up but, having a pink stage with silk curtains near the back. You figured you'd get a drink (or two) then make your way down to the show and watch well whatever the fuck drags do. (Why would you go to a drag show not even knowing what it is you dumb fu-).

Going up to the bar you were met with a cat like a bartender who seemed pleasant. “What can I get for yah boy,” the bartender asks and you reply. “Whatever’s the cheapest you got.” you hear a soft husky chuckle as he goes to get what you wanted. In the meantime, your eyes wandered the club, familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. As your attention wandered to the stage the bartender spoke to you while sliding the drink order to you. “First time here?” you took a good gulp from the drink “Yeah” the bartender was cleaning a glass while nodding “You should pay attention to this next guy that starts in a few minutes. Crowd loves him” While you weren’t exactly interested in the drag performers themselves you figured you’d continue the convo, “Oh yeah? And what’s so special about him?” the sinner laughed and simply replied, “You’ll see”. You rolled your eyes before ordering another drink.

As you were making your way down to the stage area you saw there was much more of a crowd now, and along with that the lights had dimmed a lot more giving much more of a romantic atmosphere. You didn’t care to stay too close to the stage so you took a seat in a booth nearby away from the huge swarm of sinners who seemed more than eager to see this special performer.

A speaker played above everyone “And now the performer of the night, Angel Dust!~” The lights dimmed as the club seemed to almost go silent, whispers probably had appeared near the back but, no one near the stage dared to speak, that’s when the curtains opened and pink neon lights silhouetted a performer. A new York-style style accent had begun to sing. “Till death do us part” he hadn’t even finished the first line and the crowd started falling head over heels. Throughout his performance, the lights started to become less harsh allowing his features to show much better. And damn, you had to admit he was fucking hot. Having a latex black dress with a pair of platforms really brought out his character. And his makeup was perfectly done with long and thick eyeliner that could mesmerize anyone who fell into his web. He made eye contact with you at one particular part of his act and winked. You could feel your face turn red (along with something else).

While the song had ended he started to move onto the next part of the performance. “Now that that's over with this next part of the show Ima need a guest volunteer” Sinners everywhere started shouting and begging to be chosen by him, but none of them knew he already had the perfect sinner in mind. “You in the back” his eyes were in your direction and you turned both ways to see if he was referring to you before giving him a confused look. “Yes, you pretty boy, come up here”. Now if you were sober there was no way in hell you would've gone up, but those drinks had helped you loosen up and you felt your legs carry you up onto the stage. You watched as other sinners shot looks of daggers and envy at you as you were met to the side of the spider. “Before we get onto the main course, what's your name sweet cheeks” Angel asked directly to you and handed the mic over, you tell him and the crowd your name before he takes the microphone back to continue on. “Well for this performance tonight I’m gonna be dancing with the guy here and see how well he does.” the crowd became even more envious of you, but all that you could think about is the fact you couldn’t dance. At all. So you tap the performer on the shoulder (or the closest you could get to it) and softly speak to him, embarrassed not letting the crowd hear. “I can’t dance at all. I think it’d be better if you-” he cut you off grabbing your arm to pull you close to him as he spoke back in the same quiet manner. “You don’t gotta think about anything, just follow what I do.”

You weren’t even given the chance to protest back as the music started playing and he guided you around the stage, while you yourself couldn’t dance, he sure could. Spinning around doing all kinds of moves the two of you mesmerized the crowd and halfway through the song those thoughts that had been clouding your mind were nowhere now. And Before you knew it the song was over and he was holding your hand up as he smiled at the crowd who was cheering. 

After That it was kinda a blur but, what you do remember is the spider pulling you into his dressing room locking the door behind him. You guys ended up on his camel back sofa with his legs wrapped around your torso and arms all over the place. Your kissing was nothing calm nor romantic, it was messy and lustful. “The moment I saw you had me feeling things yah know that toots?” Angel spoke between a mouthful of kisses. You guys didn’t stop as you moaned in his mouth. Infatuated with one another the positioning stayed more or less the same as his head rested on the cushion of the couch and you on top of him with heavy breathing. His legs stayed wrapped around you as one pair of his hands reached towards your pants rubbing against the bulge that had been formed. It didn’t take long to remove your lower clothing and the dress Angel had been wearing. Of course he had a one piece so now he was completely bare in front of you and god, he looked even better without any of the intricate clothing designs covering his fur. Your hands were on his wait as you two began to kiss again. It felt so much messier than it did a few minutes ago. But, even not fully getting into it yet, you knew Angel was experienced from the way he moved and talked, you don’t know if that made you nervous or even more turned on but, when you’ve had everything that’s happened to tonight happen, it all kinda mushes together. While you continued to be interlinked with one another Angel’s upper pair of arms reached into a drawer near the sofa pulling out a bottle and condom. While he was opening the bottle you had been handed the condom. Neither of you wanted to pull away from each other even when needing to prep yourselves.

Angel was surprisingly quick to get ready (partly because he starts before every performance-) but, as you were both ready he guided you now, leaking a tip to him. As you had started to enter inside your grip naturally tightened and he was wrapped around you. When you had bottomed out both of you let out a moan and Angel’s top pair of arms firmly latched onto your shoulders. That’s when you did one slow thrust, then another, and another, before you knew it your pace had become fast and deep, which Angel loved. He moaned telling you to keep it just like that as you then hit his g spot. He wanted to fucking scream, and the sound he made was plenty enough to make you come on sight. One of you guys cursed, you're not sure who, maybe it was both of you as you went through your orgasm. And not long after Angel also had one of his own. You just stayed inside him for a bit before pulling out and laying against the head of the sofa in a sweat. While you had been waiting for Angel to kick you out or something he got up to hang up his dress and looked over to you not even seeming to be exhausted. “So toots, you wanna do a round two?”

#hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic #aceyogurt #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust x you #angel dust x y/n #angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #angel dust x reader #angel dust #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you

[bachissidehoe]

"Adopting" Catboys Kuroo & Kenma

w.c. 1.3k

The last thing y/n expected to happen when she decided to take two stray cats in was perhaps exactly what happened- she woke up one morning to two human boys on either side of her, cuddling up against her chilly body. After the initial panic, and all three of them working through the confusion and explanations, y/n was eventually able to take a breath. These two boys, were in fact, the two cats she brought home. Her energetic black cat turned into a tall, gorgeous man with raven colored hair, his black cat ears dusted with specs of white on the inside, his tail sleek and smooth. Her calm, shy calico became a sweet, quiet man with beautiful golden eyes and black and yellow ears, matching perfectly with his two-tone shoulder length hair. Perhaps one of the most difficult things to accept about the two cat boys she got mixed up with- was that they’re so damn pretty. Both of them. And they had a way of making her feel special, fighting over cuddles when they were in cat form, playing with her hair in human form- she couldn't get enough of their attention. She’d been calling them some random pet names she picked out- but when they revealed their human forms, they reintroduced themselves as Kuroo Tetsuro and Kozume Kenma.

It didn't take long for the lines of the originally established owner-pet relationship to become blurred, or at least, the nature of this relationship to take on a slightly different meaning.

Kuroo

He fights for her attention and isn’t subtle about it. He tells her out loud, drawing any amount of attention he can away from his calm friend. “Stop petting Kenma, I was the one who helped you with the dishes earlier” He rolls his eyes, his fluffy black ears pinned backward

He steals kisses whenever he can get them, a light kiss on the cheek, a lick to the neck, a brush of her lips. Anything to put his hands or his mouth on her

He likes to maintain his cat form when she first arrives home, snaking his furry body between her legs to make sure he’s the first to welcome her with his scent. He proudly reaches his head upward to meet her greeting, loving the feeling of her fingers gliding through his soft fur

When he fucks her, he loves to rail into her from behind, gripping her hair in one hand and digging his claws into her ass with the other. He loves watching her tight pussy take him in, creating a creamy ring around the base of his thick cock. “That’s a good girl, who’s the pet now?” He gasps, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he fills her with his sticky load

He’s so vocal with her, constantly praising her, telling her she’s beautiful, moaning into her mouth, her pussy, around her tits- he just loves being loud for her. Maybe some part of that is because he wants Kenma to hear, since there’s nothing better than a jealous Kenma for him to deal with later

Kenma

It’s easy to tell when Kenma is touch starved, he wanders around the house, moping, letting out little sighs and whines. He acts so unbothered, but he wants to be pet and cuddled just as much as Kuroo. “Kuro, move over, you’re kicking me off the bed” He whines

When he's in cat form, he's watching whatever's on the TV, y/n's laptop, or even her phone, with his golden eyes glued to the screen, his fluffy multi-colored tail swinging happily behind him. When he's in human form, he's the one playing the games and scrolling through social media. And he loves when y/n watches him, he'll take quick glances toward her when he wins a match or makes a good play, eager for her praise

He's always curled up on y/n's bed, taking up the warmest spot where her body once was, rolling around in the scent she left behind. She always finds him there when she gets home, looking beautifully soft, taking a short little cat nap before spending the rest of the night subtly begging for her attention

He loves when y/n bounces on his cock, taking his entire length inside her soaked pussy before using her burning thighs to lift herself back up, resting only his tip inside before repeating the cycle. He can't get enough of being edged by her, ridden until her gorgeous thighs physically can't anymore, which is when he'll thrust upward into her tired pussy, watching her tits bounce in front of him until he finally fills her to the brim

Perhaps his favorite thing in the world is when he gets to taste her sweet pussy, lapping at her hole over and over, refusing to stop even when she begs him to. He loves when her fluids drip down his chin, when her fingers grip his calico ears as she cums once again, having lost count of the exact number of times

Both of them

Taking the boys out always becomes an event, forcing them to wear beanies that cover their ears, making them tuck their tails into their pants, they always put up a fuss about it. But they have to get outside sometime, so y/n takes them to the park and lets them hit a volleyball around, buys them some treats, steers them away from any dogs that want to play. Kenma can never seem to keep his beanie on, it always slips down over his eyes, leading to a slightly panicked y/n bobby pinning it back in place before anyone sees

Sometimes they like to come shopping with her, picking out groceries and Kuroo excitedly jumping around when he sees a cat toy he wants. Kenma prefers to stand behind the cart, rolling his eyes at Kuroo's obnoxious displays. And in public of all places...

There are times when one of the boys will get extra jealous during their "special" time with y/n. Kenma will paw and scratch at the door, having just woken up from his nap and realizing Kuroo has once again beat him out for y/n's attention. Kuroo, however, will just barge in, jumping up on the bed and making sure Kenma knows he can't have y/n all to himself

The constant interruptions usually lead to the one left out joining them anyway. Kenma will stroll in while Kuroo fucks y/n from behind, his eyes pleading and cock strained against his sweatpants as Kuroo smirks, thrusting just a bit harder to rub it in. "Kenma, c'mere, I can h-fuck- help you too~" Y/n says, pulling his sweatpants down and taking his bulging length in her mouth. Kuroo's thrusts are all she needs to create a rhythm against Kenma's shaft, and it isn't long before he's spilling his load down her throat. "Already done, Kenma? Better get it back up, I could keep going for hours" Kuroo snickers, the sound of his thighs slapping against her ass echoing beautifully off the walls of the bedroom

When Kuroo's the one left out, he'll waste no time inserting himself into the situation. "Without me? You two..." Kuroo growls, watching y/n bounce on Kenma as his lips remain parted, his face flushed and eyes snapped shut. Kuroo smothers his needy cock in plenty of lube before bending y/n forward, slowly forcing his dick into her ass. "You don't mind, right? Can't just make me sit and watch" He breathes, taking one of y/n's tits in her hand as she whines. Soon, both boys are thrusting into her, filling her up at the same time

They always end peacefully, with y/n asleep in Kenma's arms while Kuroo plays with her hair and cleans her up. She takes care of them all the time- feeding them, giving them a home, cleaning up after them- it's the least they can do to hold her used body and cradle her to sleep.

#anime smut #anime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #catboy kenma #catboy kuroo #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kenma x reader smut #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #ao3 writer #haikyuu catboys #anime catboy #kuroken #kozume kenma #kuroo tetsurou #kenma smut

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

,,Spin The Bottle’’ -M.S

synopsis: You’re at a party with your best friend Nick, and you finally meet his brothers.

warnings: SMUT. alcohol, drugs, strong language.

pairing: switch Matt X switch Layla (female oc.)

Based off the song ‘This Could Be Us’ by Rae Sremmurd, and it is a slow burner😭🫶🏻

— — back to masterlist

‘Spin the bottle

if you the reason why its empty baby,

spin the fucking bottle.’

“C’MON, LAY!!” Nick yelled loudly from the other side of the crowded room. Layla shuffled through the hot room, her shoes sticking on the wooden alcohol covered floor. She tried her best to get by Nick, her best friend, but the crowd of drunk and high kids her age were restricting her. “for fucks sake, Layla.” Nick scoffed as he started through the crowd to get Layla himself.

Once he reached the much shorter girl, he gently grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind him through the crowd to the corner of the room. They both came to a halt, Layla almost running into the red-haired boy in front of her.

“Layla, meet my.. brothers..” Nick said in a disappointed tone.

“don’t say it like that, kid. you act like im a burden!” one of the boys spoke up. he had longer hair, and no tattoos, so using all the context clues from the many stories Nick has told her, this boy was Chris. “Anyways— I’m Chris!” the boy smiled, pulling her into a hug.

The sudden intimate action made the small girl let out a small giggle as she returned the action.

“nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Layla,” she smiled, and pulled away from the hug. A very slightly taller male with shorter brown hair and tattoos like Nicks stepped forwards.

He was more attractive than the other two, in ways she couldn’t understand. His sharp jawline, his defined cheekbones, his bright blue eyes, his slim face shape, the way his brown hair sat perfectly on his face, just barely covering his eyes.

“Hey, um..” the boy started, causing her to snap out of the trance he put her in. “I’m Matt..” he smiled shyly, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

Layla- without thinking- quickly responded with “I know! nice to meet you, Matt!” ‘I know?’ ‘I KNOW.?’ Was she loosing her mind?

Matt chuckled, and Layla shook her head, shamefully shaking the boys hand.

“i- uh.. sorry. Its just, the stories Nick has told me. Not specifically about you of course- but about you and chris and himself so i just assumed since he’s nick, and he’s chris-“ Layla rambled, being cut off when Matt put his hand on her shoulder.

“its okay. i get it.” he whispered.

“sorry.” Layla apologized, and Matt let his hand slowly fall off her shoulder to her hand; intertwining his long fingers with hers.

“its okay.” he smiled. “i understand.”

Layla smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it slip away from hers.

“sorry,” Matt apologized. “I’m not sure why i did that, you just seem.. upset? Not that you look upset or anything! Just that-“

“its okay.” Layla cut him off, and Matt smiled, Layla smiled back. He was right, the party was getting on her nerves, the loud music, the people yelling,, but thats not why she was acting like this. He was.

She could tell he was stressed too, but his stress did probably originate from the party. Not her.

“Hey! Who wants to play spin the bottle?” A random man yelled from off a red solo cup covered table. There were a few cheers, and Layla snapped her head towards Nick. Not for good reasons, though. Nick always wanted to play games at parties, and Layla never did.

Nick tilted his head, and gave her the, ‘you-better-come-play-with-me’ look. She sighed as Nick grabbed her hand, and started leading her through the crowd again.

“wait- you guys are actually playing?” Nicks brother- Chris- asked.

“I guess so-“ She shrugged in response, still getting pulled through the crowd.

Nicks fast maneuvering through the crowd allowed them to be there before majority of the other players were. The two sat down on the ground, criss-cross. Chris emerged out of the crowd to the room, bringing a confused and frightened Matt behind him.

“Chris! Did you really bring him?” Nick scolded Chris, both of the boys knew Matt had social anxiety, and this was NOT going to help.

“Hell yeah! He’ll be fine. He can just.. stand in the corner and not play if he wants. At least I brought him over instead of just leaving him by himself over there!” Chris snapped back, and Layla cut the triplets bickering out of her mind.

Her eyes met with Matt’s, whose were starting to gloss over. Since she had just met him, minutes ago, he has been anxious. His brothers were his guidance, and now with them both fighting in a room full of people wanting to play a game, it was leaving Matt with no one.

“hey, c’mere.” Layla smiled, patting the floor next to her. Chris and Nick both stopped mid-sentence, as Matt actually sat down next to her, in-between Chris and her. “if the bottle points at him, just say its pointing at you,” Layla says pointing at Chris, “so that way he only has to kiss someone when its his turn.”

“What!? But thats chea-“ Chris starts, but Layla cuts him off.

“Chris.”

“But- how come you dont-“ Chris starts again, but this time he was cut off by Nick.

“Chris.” Nick stopped him.

“okay.” Chris nodded.

-

After a few spins, everything has been going according to plan. Chris and Layla were taking turns when the bottle landed on Matt, until it was actually his turn.

“Matt, your turn.” Layla smiled and gestured towards the bottle. Matt spun the bottle quickly, without hesitation, which caught all of them off guard. They all watched anxiously as it spun in circles on the floor, and stopped moving.

Layla.

The crowd erupted in “ooh”s, and Layla’s and Matt’s heads snapped towards each others.

“fuck.” Matt whispered.

Layla shook her head, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“no- i want to..” Matt mumbled; his hand finding its way to Layla’s jaw. “ready?” he asked. This sudden boldness from Matt was confusing to Layla, but she didn’t mind. She just nodded.

Matt connected their lips, for only a few seconds, before pulling away.

“boo! that was a bad kiss! at least ten se-“ Chris booed, sticking his thumb out.

“CHRIS!” Nick yelled at the younger boy.

“You want us to make out or something?!” Matt whipped around to face Chris, who was nodding eagerly. The crowd, oddly enough, started chanting ‘Matt’

“fuck.” Matt sighed, as he turned back around to face Layla. “are you okay with this..?” he asked her,

“you mean, making out?” she asked confused.

“yeah..” Matt nodded, his eyes meeting hers.

“oh.. yeah. okay.” She nodded, and tried slowing her breathing rate. Matt was definitely attractive, and her type,, but doing this in front of all these people..? As Matt’s hand met her jaw once more, she pulled away, “wait- can we like.. do it in a room? Kinda like seven minutes in heaven!” She suggested.

“um.. yeah, sure. follow me.” the party host nodded, and led Matt and Layla to a room, leaving the ‘ooh’ing crowd behind.

“In heres fine,” the boy opened a door to a fully furnished -and nice- room.

Matt and her walked in, hand in hand, and he closed the door behind them. Matt looked down at her.

“you don’t really wanna do this, do you?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“no, i do, i swear, just.. maybe not in front of all those people?” She shook her head rapidly.

“yeah, i get it. If damn Chris didn’t bring it up, no one else would’ve.. i swear im gonna beat his ass.” Matt rolled his eyes and crossed his tattooed arms.

Now that no one else was around to distract her, she could really focus on how good he looks. His biceps being perfectly shown by the way he’s standing, his tattoos, his bright blue eyes, his tall and ‘lanky’ stature.

“you okay?” he asked, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

“i- uh.. yeah. sorry.” she stuttered. the tilt of his head was enough to make her fold.

Matt unexpectedly made his way slowly over to the bed in the corner of the room, and sat down.

“you wanna do this?” he asked. Matt was much more.. ‘out there’ when he wasn’t in a room crowded with people. Layla nodded, and felt a blush creep onto her cheeks- and she knew why.

Matt patted the spot on the bed next to him, gesturing for Layla to sit there, but her body wouldn’t let her. She sat on Matt’s lap unexpectedly, and straddled him.

Matt’s eyes shot opened and he looked up at her, his hands quickly flying to her waist. what was she doing?

“you wanna make out like this?” Matt suddenly asked, and Layla couldn’t help but nod. Matt let his grip on her waist loosen, and his hands found their way to her back, around her waist. Layla let her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. “okay. ready?” he asked, and Layla nodded. Matt closed his eyes, and Layla did the same, and they both leaned in.

Their lips brushed against eachother; and they finally met. Their lips moved in sync, and Matt’s tongue swiped over Layla’s bottom lip. Their tongues fought for dominance, and Matt’s won. His tongue explored her mouth, and their make out became more heated.

Their teeth clashed together as their tongues tangled, neither of them stopping. Without even thinking, Layla rolled her hips against Matt, causing him to gasp and grab her hips tightly again.

“Don’t-“ Matt groaned, Layla immediately stopping.

“Fuck, sorry-“ Layla apologized and started to stand, but Matt quickly pulled her down.

“no, its okay.. just…” Matt sighed, and let his hand fall to Layla’s. He trailed both of their hands up to his crotch, Layla gasped as she felt the growing bulge in his jeans. Matt groaned, and let Layla’s hand go. “t-this is what you do to me..” He moaned, the girl’s eyes growing wide.

“holy shit..” she gasped, “Matt..” her eyes met his, begging and pleading ones. “Do.. do you want me to help..?” she whispered, and Matt waisted no time nodding eagerly.

“fuck, please..” he begged, his head falling back as she pushed the palm of her hand against his boner. “mmh, please,” he whined. Layla smirked, her lips finding his neck.

“Want me to mark you up, Matty? Show everyone how good of a boy you are for me?” She teased, and Matt groaned,

“f-fuck, yes..” he pleaded, not really thinking about the party he was to go back to. Layla’s hands made their way to his chest, as she pushed him back against the bed. She continued to suck and bite on the whining boys neck, and her hands trailed down his sides to his belt loops on his jeans.

Her hands slipped to the button of his blue jeans, brushing against the bulge that was below the cold silver metal.

“Can I-“ Layla started, but Matt cut her off.

“yes, please, yes..” he begged, his hands still on her hips from before. She fiddled with the cold button, and once it came loose, she unzipped the zipper and pulled his pants down slowly, leaving the poor boy in his boxers only.

Layla chuckled as she saw the small wet spot on his red boxers due to his precum, but she couldn’t lie, she was already intimidated by the size even though she couldn’t see it yet.

“Gonna be good for me, Matty?” She asked, as her hands gripped the waistband of his boxers.

“y-yes, i promise.” he nodded, and she placed a kiss on his clothed member before pulling his boxers completely off.

“Holy fuck Matt,” she gasped.

“hm? is it bad-?” Matt asked worriedly.

“no, actually.. its just.. that is supposed to fit in me?” she gestured towards the boys dick.

“well- i-.. not unless you don’t want it to..?” Matt sat up.

“I want-“ Layla was cut off oncemore, but not by Matt this time.

“aye! hurry it up in there! ya fuckin or sum?” a boy yelled into the room from outside the door.

“give us 15!” Matt yelled back.

“15 Matt?” Layla yelled.

“i- uh.. we can just.. i don’t know!” matt stuttered.

“don’t get shy on me now, matt. we have ‘15 minutes’, you wanna do this..?” Layla asked, getting on her knees in front of Matt, becoming eye level with his stomach.

“yes,” matt nodded.

Layla wasted no time spitting on matts cock, giving it a few good tugs, before licking from his base to his tip.

“mmh,” Matt whined. His hands gripped the sheets of the bed, as Layla took his throbbing red tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. “A-ah- fuck—“ Matt gasped, one of his hands flying to her, the other tightening on the bedsheets.

Layla bobbed her mouth up and down, hollowing out her cheeks. Spit dripped down her chin and salty unwanted tears rolled down her red cheeks, as she hummed around Matt’s cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

“h-holy shit— im not g-gonna.. fuck, im not gonna last long-“ Matt whined, Layla popping her head off.

“if i let you cum now, will you still be a good boy and fuck me?” she asked, and matt nodded, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“yes, god, yes..” he agreed, and Layla’s lips met with Matt’s cock again. Her tongue slipped over his slit, before she took his tip in her mouth again. “mmph, f-fuck..” Matt groaned, his head falling back and his legs shaking. “i-im gonna-“ Matt warned, but before he could finish, his cum coated Layla’s mouth.

She pulled off his cock, and swallowed, sticking her tongue out to show she had swallowed.

“good girl..” Matt growled, pulling the girl into his lap, harshly kissing her. His hands found their way under her skirt, tracing gentle patterns across her wet panties.

“M-matt, please..” Layla gasped, her dominance fading quicker and quicker by the second as Matt played with her clit through the thin fabric.

“shh.. hold on, baby..” Matt smirked. Smirked. If Layla wasn’t already drenched, that would’ve done it for her.

“Matt- please, I didn’t tease you,” she pleaded, as his lips found her neck. He placed rough kisses against her soft skin, leaving red- soon to be purple- marks. Matt huffed against her, as he lifted her hips up just enough so he could slip her useless panties off.

“im keeping these.” Matt’s eyes met hers as he tossed the panties by his discarded clothes.

Layla was done waiting. She slipped her own shirt and bra off, starting to pull her skirt down after standing up, before Matt quickly stood up aswell, roughly shoving her down to the bed.

He leaned over her, grabbing her neck,

“Did I give you fucking permission to undress, slut?” Matt growled in her ear, and she shook her head.

“n-no.. I-im sorry-“ Layla apologized, and Matt tore her skirt off of her.

“You’re so fucking lucky we’re at a party and not at my house, because i swear i would’ve just ripped those in half.” Matt’s grip loosened just slightly on her throat, as he tossed her skirt.

Matt used his free hand to slide through her slick folds, slipping his fingers over her entrance a few times, before sticking two in her hole.

“H-holy shit!” Layla gasped as Matt pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them when his knuckle hit her clit.

“Ya’know, I’d prep ya more, maybe even eat you out, but we only got a few more minutes left, so your gonna have to deal with it. Your safe word is Red, okay” Matt ripped his fingers out of her, causing her to whine.

“O-okay. red.” she repeated, knowing thats what he wanted.

“good girl.” matt nodded, as his hand around her throat tightened, and his other hand came to grab her hip.

He pushed the tip of his cock in slowly, and Layla winced. Matt continued to push into her, before completely bottoming out.

His lips came into contact with her neck again, sucking and biting at the spots that he had not already marked, as he gave her a little bit to adjust to him.

“m-move,” Layla pleaded, trying to sound demanding.

“poor baby..” Matt groaned as he started to thrust into her, his grip on her hip sure to leave bruises. “trying to seem dominant, but your falling apart on my cock..” he tsked, and his speed was relentless.

The way he was speaking to her just kept pushing Layla closer and closer to the edge, her legs starting to shake.

“already close?” Matt shook his head. His hand left her pained hip and made its way to her clit, as he rubbed circles on it.

“H-holy fuck, Matt!” Layla yelled. Thank god the music was blasting, or the people throughout the whole neighborhood probably could’ve heard that.

“shut your damn mouth,” matt growled, his head falling back, his release inching closer as he felt the familiar knot form in his stomach.

The girls legs continued to shake around matt, as she moaned again.

“m-matt, im cumming!”

“fuck, me too..” he huffed, both of them releasing at the same time. Matt’s thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy, as he chased his high. He slowly pulled out, both of them wincing at the loss of the feeling.

Matt didn’t say anything, and he just started to put his clothes back on.

Layla sat up slowly, in confusion, as she cleared her throat.

“hm?” Matt asked, slipping his boxers back on.

“really? your cum is literally dripping out of me, matt, and you dont say anything?” she asked, somewhat offended. she doesnt know why, though. its just a hookup.

“um.. sorry.. i dont really know what to say..” Matt stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck. He refused to make eye contact with her, which was even more odd.

“are you okay..?” she asked.

“yeah. im fine. sorry,” he apologized again, picking up her bra, skirt, and shirt off the ground before handing them back to her, “here. im sorry, im awkward.. i’ve never been that.. intimate?” Matt shrugged, as Layla slipped her clothes back on, after carelessly wiping herself off with the bed sheets. She doubts anyone uses that room ever anyways.

“you mean.. youve never had sex?” Laylas eyes widened, as she attempted to stand but failed, falling back on the bed.

“No no no, not like that. I’ve had sex but not that.. rough..?” Matt squinted, tilting his head. “I dunno. Sorry.” He apologized again, offering her a hand.

“Stop saying sorry.” Layla rolled her eyes, taking his hand.

“sor-..” he stopped himself. “um.. would you wanna maybe.. hangout sometime..?” he asked.

“GUYS. YOUR FIFTEEN IS UP. HURRRY IT THE FUCK UP,” the same person from before pounded on the door, causing both of them to chuckle.

“id love to. wait- shit! our necks!” Layla’s eyes widened.

“eh, it doesn’t matter. they all know we fucked anyways. who sits in a room and makes out for twenty minutes.?” Matt chuckled, admiring his work on the shorter girl’s neck.

“touchè,” Layla shrugged, and Matt grabbed her hand. “your really not gonna give me my panties back?” she asked, and matt nodded.

“nope. they’re in my pocket. you’ll just have to retrieve them next time.” Matt teased, and Layla rolled her eyes.

The two opened the door and walked back to the others, sitting on the floor.

“oh, for fucks sake, they’re back! we only managed to do six whole rounds without-“ Chris started, but stopped when he saw the hickeys on both of their necks. “holy. shit.” He gasped, his mouth falling agape.

Matt and Layla sat down together, still hand-in-hand, as all of the others stared at them.

“we were in there for over fifteen minutes. the fuck did you think we did?” Layla snapped in a joking way.

“if were being honest, we thought you guys were pranking us.. like you didn’t want to play the game or something..” Chris’ shrugged. “but god damn, Matty boy. I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Chris gave his brother a nod of approval and a slap on the shoulder.

“im gonna be sick.” Nick fake gagged.

“oh, shut up, nick!” Matt groaned.

“wait. Why is there HANDPRINTS on her neck, and what the fuck is in your pocket, matt. YOU KINKY MOTHERFUCKER!” Chris yelled as he laughed, Matt’s face going bright red.

-

small A/N: i finished this since i cant sleep. enjoy😋

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #youtube #fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #smut #matthew sturniolo

[ohbo-ohno]

I'm gripping the bars of my cage desperately, I'm chewing at the bars, begging, pleading for more zombie ghoap x reader au.

zombie ghoap x reader au coming right up chef 🫡

btw this is super similar to charliemwrites' jaw dropping ghoap x reader "the (scottish) cabin in the woods" so you need to go read that immediately (and leave a nice comment because charlie rocks)

cw for noncon puppyplay below the cut

i was talking to ceilidh a tiny bit about this earlier, and i think that johnny and reader met in like a cannibal cult kinda thing. very much so like that episode of TLOU, yknow? they both think they've found a little commune safe haven, but it very quickly becomes clear that that's not the case.

anyways, they end up trying to get out together when they realize what's going on, and have to kill a few of the cult members :/ they've been "stuck together" ever since

they threaten to leave the other for dead (or kill them in the middle of the night) constantly. it hasn't happened yet, obviously, but boy oh boy do both of them bring it up nonstop. they act like they hate each other, but honestly they just need to fuck

but they're sorta stuck together now. you're better off paired up with someone than on your own, that's something they both learned pre-cult fiasco. and, really, they don't dislike each other nearly as much as you might think based on the way they gripe

enter ghost. he spots these two survivors wandering through the forest, one injured and both filthy, and basically thinks to himself "hm. could be good in home entertainment"

(here's the deal with puppyplay like this - it's absurd, and we're just going with it. alright??? just WORK with me here)

if you didn't see, i put in the tags of the original post "#btw - he takes you home then chains you both up outside and says something like “this is where dogs stay” :/#dont worry you're perfectly safe (he has a high fence keeping zombies out) but he likes to hear how scared you get when you're out there all#you're both quite well behaved when he lets you in for dinner the next night <3#he only has to scold you once when you both complain about being made to eat while kneeling on the floor next to him"

you're probably both "behaving" because you don't want him to. you know. fucking KILL YOU. but this is also a zombie apocalypse au, so you're both totally feral too. and this is an apocalypse ghost too, which means he's probably way harsher and way rougher around the edges than he even is in canon

anyways i think soap and reader here are more likely to be like "lets wait this out and try to escape when he's not expecting it" except they're like... really bad at trying to play along

ANYWAYS!!!! ghost takes you two back to his compound, ties the both of you up outside for the night. he wraps soap's ankle first, gives him a stern command to stay off of it, and goes back inside like everything is normal. he watches you two over the camera while planning out how he'll build some outdoor kennels for the two of you

you're both cold and tired and hungry and scared the next morning, so it doesn't take much coaxing on his part to get you inside. it takes a lot more coaxing to keep you two on your knees :/

honestly johnny's ankle is so fucked that it's almost a relief to keep pressure off of it (even if it means crawling around on the floor like an animal) but you care a hell of a lot more. ghost threatens to break your ankles before you finally listen :/

he ties the leashes to your wrists, to keep you both out of trouble as much as he can. it's not like either of you are eager to go very far - his house is warm and you're both chilled to the bone from your night outisde

anyways. that's all i've got like, linearly. but i can offer some random little tidbits about their lives after

ghost makes you both eat from the floor. he gives you plates (no silverware) at first and lets you use your hands, and gradually works the two of you up to eating from bowls with just your mouths

you and johnny bicker constantly and simon frequently makes the two of you kiss to make up :( forces you to make out with each other while he smokes a cigarette and enjoys the show. no matter how mad you are, you both end up needy and humping the air when he finally lets you stop

he tries to have you two sleep in the same crate, but it does not go well. ghost very quickly realizes that you two will try to tear each other's throats out if forced that closely together for an entire night

sometimes one of you will try to get the other in trouble. there's one particular night where you trick johnny into misbehaving and he's stuck in the outside kennel all night - but it rains. and every time you glance out the window you see how sad and cold he looks :((( ghost lets you love on him the next morning, and soap is more than eager for a bit of comfort after such a miserable night

#sometimes i giggle putting a cw for noncon puppyplay cause like. why are you following me if you DONT like that lmao #but then i remember this stuff pops up in people's recommended. and i tag it properly #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #zombie apocalypse ghoap x reader

[super-paper]

I still don’t understand AFO. Why is he like this. This series repeatedly goes out of it’s way to humanize the villains but AFO is still just evil because he wants to be the demon lord and I don’t get it.

That would be the point, I feel-- AFO doesn't want to be understood or seen as "human." He wants to completely lose himself in character, wants other people to mindlessly play along with the story he's written for himself like good little extras, and wants everyone around him to acknowledge what a ~perfectly inhuman demon lord~ he is-- and he's bent the entire narrative of MHA around himself like a shield in order to accomplish that. Like, the idea of people breaking the same black and white narrative that he's been using to protect himself (and trap others) quite literally drives him insane:

"That murderer--" "You killer--" oooooo you're so mad that human nature is basically good, that people are endlessly capable of growth and healing, and that actual human beings can't simply be shoved into teeny black and white fictional boxes ooooo all the more evidence that he's gonna completely lose his shit when Tomura ultimately refuses to kill Izuku lmao

I wanna point out his speech bubbles in the second image, bc Hori frequently uses speech bubbles to emphasize a character's mental state-- Like.... Bro is literally coming apart at the seams with rage that Stain is trying to be anything more than a starter villain. 😭The english translation also kind of sort of makes it seem like AFO is simply referring to Stain by his moniker (Hero Killer), but the term he uses in the original text feels a little more... loaded, imho?? The kanji used for Stain's "Hero Killer" Moniker is "Goroshi" ("殺ごろし"), but here, AFO instead refers to him as a "Murderer" (殺人犯/satsujin-han). Calling Stain an out-and-out murderer instead of calling him by a villain moniker feels a lot more specific, a lot more pointed, and it also tells us a lot more about AFO’s fucked up sense of values.

Anyway, I've said this before, but AFO is a character who reads heavily as an escapist fantasy gone horrifically wrong. "Why is a world where villains are allowed to climb back up from rock bottom and heal so intolerable to AFO?" "why does the idea of people breaking free from their roles make AFO so angry?" "why is AFO literally trying to BECOME a comic book character?" are better questions to ask than "why is bro just evil for the sake of it," I feel. Like obviously, a world where the label of "villain" gets thoroughly and utterly dismantled is one where AFO loses his power over others.... but it's also a world that rips that protective layer of "fiction" away from him, exposes his own humanity, and destroys that delusion of becoming the "perfect villain king" that he's wrapped himself up in.

tfw you LARP so hard that it ends up getting your brother killed and now breaking character means you gotta Process All Of That .................................................... Unless...? :)

What I find especially interesting about AFO is that MHA's narrative actually cooperates with shielding him from the readers, to a degree-- scenes that depict rare moments of genuine emotion are overlaid with contrary, cartoonishly evil narration that's meant to distract the reader from what's actually being depicted. The bulk of the series depicts his face being hidden in shadows even though it *literally* has no reason to be, and we don't get an unobscured look until the other characters finally start rallying together to reject his story. He is literally introduced to the series through a TV screen, which MHA has been using as a shorthand for its depiction of fantasy since day one:

In my opinion, I feel the final act of "rejection" that AFO fears isn't from his brother, or his followers, or "his other self"-- what he fears is the story itself rejecting him and finally exposing him for what he is: an utterly mundane human. Like, a total freak of a guy to be sure, but still totally human. The narrative revoking its various "protections" and working against AFO to humanize him acts as the final insult to everything he claims to believe in while doubling as the last bit of confirmation that he was never gonna become a "perfect demon lord." MHA being what it is, this is something inevitable.

Where other characters in this series draw strength from their origin-- the moment that defines them as a human and individual-- AFO likely fears and rejects his own origin for this same reason.

Anyway. I would describe AFO as a wannabe-author who refuses to make public appearances or divulge details about his personal life, but ultimately reveals a little too much about himself through the "stories" and "characters" he tries to write-- so ppl still know he's a freak with issues by virtue of how fatherless his content is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Putting together all the pieces of himself that AFO accidentally lets slip is part of what makes MHA so fun (to me, at least!).

#thank you for the ask! #all for one #mha spoilers #mha.txt #my hero academia #this mostly turned into me rambling abt what i personally like about AFO. He Is For The Pathetic Men Enthusiasts. #like i gotta stress that I still want him to get dragged out into the wilderness and torn apart by ravenous wolves though lol

[jennay]

You were Wearing Converse

Request: Hey bestie! So I have an idea for a request and you can write it however you see fit (I trust you). Maybe reader is a new assistant for Bryan to help takes photos for the shows and Noah starts getting feelings as the tour progresses and gives reader little smiles and goofy faces when she’s taking pictures of him? Maybe it can lead to him getting the guts to ask reader out and they go on a date on an off day.

An: ok first of all I'm nervous. Second of all I love this and I hope you all enjoy. I had pictures for imagination of the photoshoot but the links weren't working 😭 thanks for bearing with me. If you want to be added to the tag list let me know.

Heres the picture of the duck drawing that was mentioned ( I don’t know who originally did it but I love them for it)

Noah Master List

Words are about 3600ish

"You've got to be kidding me." You sigh as you browse through the photos on your laptop.

Bryan leans over to see what you're looking at. He compares his shots with yours. He settles back on the couch and crosses his legs. "Do you think he's doing it on purpose?" He wonders, his eyes studying the image of Noah making a face at you. "He never pulls that crap in my photos."

You keep scrolling, hoping for a decent one. "Every single one." You exclaim, getting frustrated. "This guy."

Bryan chuckles and shuts his laptop. "Damn it, Noah."

You shake your head and smile despite yourself. "If he does this tonight, I'm done." You joke. "I'm just walking off stage, and that's the end for me." You stand up, setting the laptop on the table of the tour bus. "I'm gonna go talk to him about it."

Bryan's eyebrow raises as he watches you head to the door. "Please be good. I don't want to fire you. We've done so good together on this tour, and if you piss Noah off, I'm gonna end up firing you!"

You swing the door open, smirking at Brian, "I'll be me…and we'll see how that goes. It's been nice working with you, just in case." You joke, "I'll wait till the show's over tonight...maybe that's a better idea." You sigh, "I guess I can stay and check the rest of these pictures and see if there's at least something good from the other three."

That night, you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins as you followed the boys on the stage with your camera, capturing their every move as they rocked to the music.

The crowd was roaring, the lights were flashing, and the sound was deafening. You loved every second of it. You crouched low, zoomed in, and angled your shots to get the best views of them.

You moved swiftly and skillfully, dodging the wires and the fans. You made your way to Noah, standing at the edge of the stage, singing passionately. His voice was raw and powerful, sending shivers down your spine.

You snapped a picture of him, and he looked up at you with a grin. He flashed you the cheesiest smile he could manage, showing his teeth. His eyes sparkled with mischief and joy. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a warm flutter in your chest.

Noah fucking Sebastian was a different person when you were behind the lens. He put on a show for Bryan's pictures, acting tough and cool. He flipped him off, smirked at him, and glared at him with dark eyes. He wanted to look badass for the photos, fans, and image. He played the role of the rebellious rock star perfectly.

But when it came to you, he let his guard down. He was more relaxed and silly. He made faces, winked at you, and stuck his tongue out. He didn't care about looking perfect for you. He just wanted to make you laugh. Half of your pictures were too goofy or blurry to be used for Bryan's Instagram posts or the Bad Omen's official account. But you didn't mind. You cherished those moments of genuine connection with him.

You shook your head, moving out of the way and to Jolly's corner. You could usually get pictures of him without any sass. He was more serious and focused than Noah, but he still had his charm. That was until tonight.

Tonight, he seemed to be in a playful mood as well. He joined Noah in making funny faces and gestures at you, trying to distract you from your work.

You looked across the stage to Bryan, who motioned for you to come closer to him. He had a smirk on his face that told you he had something planned. You wondered what he was up to.

Your eyes met Jolly's again, and you got the perfect shot of him and Noah standing beside each other. They looked like brothers in arms, ready to take on the world with their music. The only downfall? Their tongues were out of their mouth once again.

They looked like two kids having fun, not two grown men performing for thousands of people.

"Fuckers." You muttered as you jogged over to Bryan.

He pointed to Folio, and you nodded without asking questions; you knew Bryan would test your theory. He stayed closer to Noah and Jolly while you stayed near the drummer and bassist, snapping some of the best pictures you've taken the whole tour.

When you turned around, Noah was standing somewhat beside you. He winked in your direction, making your heart skip a beat. You felt entranced by him as he walked closer to you, melting with each smile he gave you. You took that as an opportunity to snap a few pictures of him up close.

For once, he cooperated and gave a fierce look that matched his voice and attitude on stage.

In the pit of your stomach, you felt a weird fear like Noah suddenly turned into a fire demon, brown eyes now black as he danced around the flames. His back faced you as he gave deathly growls into the mic, sending chills down your spine.

As the night ended, you felt better knowing you had a few shots that Bryan could use for his social media posts and promotions. You could save these for your portfolio and some personal memories of this fantastic night with Noah and the rest of the band.

You smile as you watch Noah address the crowd of people who have gathered to see the show. He thanks them for their support and tells them how much he loves them.

The house lights flip on as he and the rest of the band walk off the stage, leaving behind a trail of cheers and applause. You and Bryan are waiting for them at the back, ready to pack up and head to the next city.

Noah quickly walks over to you, his face glistening with sweat and his chest heaving with breaths. He still has that adrenaline rush in his veins, making him look more alive than ever.

"What did you think?" He asks you, smirking as if he already knows the answer.

"I think I'm happy you finally let me get some good shots and let me do my job." You say, playfully pushing his chest with your camera. "You're kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?" You tease him back.

Noah laughs, pushing his hair out of his face with his hand. His brown eyes sparkle with mischief and charm. "So I've heard." He says, leaning closer to you.

You can smell his cologne mixed with his sweat and feel a flutter in your stomach.

You want to be mad at him, but you can't. You've only known him and the band for this tour, but you feel a good connection with them. They're honest and genuine, unlike other artists you've worked with. They don't live off the drama of the industry; they just love making music and sharing it with their fans. And Noah... he's something else.

He's talented, charismatic, funny, and sweet. He always makes you laugh or blush with his jokes and compliments. He's also incredibly handsome, with messy hair, a stubbled chin, and muscular tattoed arms. You've caught yourself staring at him more than once and noticed him doing the same.

You give him one last smile before turning around to leave. You have a lot of work to do before the next show, and you don't want to keep him from his friends or fans.

"See ya later, Noah." You say over your shoulder.

As you turn around, you feel a gentle tug on your wrist, stopping you from moving forward.

"Wait," Noah calls out.

You turn around again, looking up at him with curious eyes. What could he possibly want? You wonder.

"Go out with me tomorrow." He stammers out anxiously, his eyes darting around the room. His face flushes with a deep crimson as he realizes what he just said. He looks at you with a hopeful expression, waiting for your answer.

Your eyes widen with surprise, your mouth dropping open. He was flirtatious with you, but you thought that was part of his charming personality.

You never expected him to ask you out on a date. "Me?" You gasp in disbelief, pointing at yourself. "No." You nervously laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. Your eyes widen even more when you realize what you said and quickly correct yourself. "I mean, yes. Sorry." You laugh again, feeling awkward and embarrassed. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go now. I'll see you tomorrow." You say, holding your camera close to your chest and rushing away from him.

You were getting bored waiting for Noah to return. He wasn't late, but you were growing impatient, wondering what he had planned for the night. You had been on tour with him for a while now, and you were looking forward to spending some quality time together.

You looked around the room, trying to find something to do. Your eyes landed on a little yellow duck beside a Sharpie on the coffee table. You had an idea, one that might keep you entertained till Noah got back.

You sat on the couch inside the tour bus with your legs up to your chest, drawing on what you assumed was a toy duck a fan had probably thrown to one of the guys. You wanted to make it look as much like Noah as possible. You swiped on some scribbles for hair and his tattoos. You didn't consider yourself an artist, but you felt like it would get the point across.

As you drew, you thought about all the fun times you had shared with Noah. You remembered the first time you met him and how he had made you laugh with his silly jokes. You thought about all the adventures you had been on together and how much he meant to you.

You hear the bus door open and footsteps closer to you before Noah stands before you. "Whatchya got there?" He asks while pointing to the duck.

"Oh," you laugh, "I was just drawing." You set the Sharpie down and toss the small rubber duck to Noah.

He chuckles, turning the duck around to observe all the markings. "Is this supposed to be me?" he holds the duck up to his face and smiles softly. "Pretty much twins."

You both laugh as Noah sits down beside you on the couch. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago. Long enough to do my art project." you smile brightly. "So what's the plan, Romeo?"

"Well," he drapes his arm over your shoulder, "Matt's letting us use his rental for the night. I signed up for a cooking class, so there's the food part. Anything you want to do?"

You shrug. "I'm bringing my camera," you say, pointing to the table. "Maybe a little photo shoot is in order because with all the bullshit photos you've given me…. I deserve at least that." You giggle.

He nods knowingly, "OK, but I get to take some of you too. It's only fair."

You roll your eyes at him, "I don't know about that. Maybe if you're lucky, should we head out or?" You stand up, looking down at your casual clothing. "Am I dressed appropriately?"

Noah leans forward, a smile on his face. "If you aren't dressed appropriately, then I sure as fuck need to change."

You shake your head and let out a giggle. "You look good. You always do."

He stands up and follows you to the door, "Stop it." He blushes and tries to hide his face in his sweater. "Let's get out of here."

The drive to the cooking class wasn't awkward like you thought it would be. You spent a significant amount of time laughing and giggling like normal. Noah let you choose the music that surprised you, mainly because he made fun of everything you listened to. He listened with a smile, promising he wouldn't criticize your singing voice. He encouraged you to dance with him and act like an idiot.

As you both arrived at the cooking class, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. You were both eager to learn something new and have fun together. Noah was the perfect partner for this adventure.

He was charming, witty, and always knew how to make you laugh.

Throughout the class, you worked together, chopping vegetables, stirring sauces, and tasting each other's creations.

Debating which was better, you swore it was his, but he denied it, claiming yours was better. You were the more experienced one, after all.

You were thrilled to get your chance to shine finally. You had been waiting for this moment for so long. Photos. Photos that he promised you as compensation for all the crappy shots he forced you to take on stage.

"Oh, I see. You just want to keep a collection of my photos to stare at when I'm not around." He jokes as he follows you down the street.

"I want photos to show that I'm a damn good photographer and I didn't waste a year taking lousy photos of the lead singer," you retort, chuckling. "Come on." You gesture to the dim alleyway.

Noah stays close behind you and rests against the brick wall. His eyes drift to your side, and his jaw drops slightly. "A cat." He points under the fire escape, and instantly, you lose his focus.

You observe as he approaches the cat, making some sounds to attract its attention, and the cat seems fearless, allowing Noah to lift it without any mistrust of humans.

You grin as you witness the two, who have hit it off right away. "How did you-" You hoist the camera and capture a quick shot of Noah and the cat he names Layla. "I can't believe it just let you snuggle up. Noah, you're like a fairy tale hero." You tease, clicking another photo, this time nearer to the two.

Noah smiles from ear to ear, petting the cat. He inches closer to you, leaning in; he lets you pet his new pal. "She's adorable."

You reach out gingerly, "How do you know it's a she, could be a he, maybe it's Leo, not Layla…" You joke while peeking at him, smiling and concealing the grin that wants to show.

"He or she…is very adorable." He corrects himself, making the adorable part sound ironic. "OK, Snow White. It's getting dark can we get a few more shots?"

He looks at you with sandness, letting the cat down. He walks to the brick wall next to you and gazes at you with curious eyes, "Here?" He says, halting in front of the area of the building that has red and green vines crawling across the walls.

You nod, looking while raising your camera. "Take your sweater off." You say, squatting down.

"Trying to undress me now?" He chuckles but follows your request and flings his sweater at you.

"Noah!" You gasp as the sweater softly lands on your face. "You almost made me drop my camera." You fling the sweater over your shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne. You back away a little, pressing the button to take the photos. "You're really loyal to the band, huh?" You point to his shirt that displays his band logo.

"Always loyal." He mockingly rolls his eyes, "It's not like I have a lot of options, y/n." He turns his head as if to spot something on the far horizon, and you seize this chance to snap a few more photos. He looks intense, and this man claims he doesn't have good angles; what a joke that was.

Suddenly, you hear a loud siren and see flashing lights bouncing off the walls.

A police car pulls up next to the alleyway, and a cop steps out. "Hey! What’re you doing here?" He shouts, walking towards you.

You freeze in panic, clutching your camera. Maybe the alleyway was a little suspicious at this time of night.

"We're just taking some photos, officer. Nothing illegal." He says, trying to sound calm.

The cop looks at you suspiciously, then at the cat under the fire escape. "Is that your cat?" He asks, pointing at it.

You and Noah exchange a glance, then shake your heads. "No, sir. We just found it here. It's very friendly." You say, hoping he won't ask any more questions.

The cop nods, then looks at your camera. “What do you got there?”

Noah steps in front of you as if he knows what will happen next and feels the desire to protect you from something happening to you. "We're not doing anything wrong here, right?" He questions.

The cop frowns, then looks at Noah's shirt. "Are you in a band?" He asks curiously.

Noah nods, smiling slightly. "Yes, sir. I'm the lead singer of Bad Omens."

The cop's eyes widen in recognition. "Bad Omens? My daughter is a huge fan of yours. She has posters of you guys all over her room." He says enthusiastically.

Noah laughs nervously, then looks at you. You smile back at him, feeling relieved.

The cop seems to have forgotten about the photos and the cat. He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of his daughter holding an album of Bad Omen's from 2016. "Can I get an autograph for her? She would be so happy." He asks eagerly.

Noah agrees and signs his name on a piece of paper, writing a nice message, "Thanks for being a fan otherwise your dad might have arrested me."

The cop laughs at what he's written and thanks him profusely. "You two have a good night. And be careful around here." He says kindly, then gets back in his car and drives away.

You and Noah let out a sigh of relief, then burst into laughter. You can't believe what just happened.

You look at him with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "What the hell just happened?" You whisper, your voice is still shaky from the adrenaline rush. "That was…I don't even know what to say. That was insane."

Noah's eyes are wide with shock. He grabs your hand and pulls you out of the dark alley, away from the scene of your mischief. "Let's get out of here." He says, his voice urgent.

You nod wordlessly, following his lead as he walks quickly to the car. You feel his hand warm and firm in yours, and you squeeze it for comfort. "Noah?" You murmur, looking up at him.

He turns his head to you with a gentle smile, his eyes softening. "What's up?"

"You're holding my hand…" You point out, lifting your linked fingers. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you see him blush.

He clears his throat, "Oh, right, sorry. Do you mind?" He asks, looking nervous.

You shake your head, "No, it's sweet…" You say, smiling back at him. You spot a bench near the lake and point to it. "But I think we need to talk about this and what it means." You say, feeling serious.

He nods and follows you to the bench, sitting close to you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. "OK," He says, crossing his legs casually. "Let's talk." He says, grinning at you.

You take a deep breath, "Well, what happens after the tour ends? We live in different states and I travel for work just like you do for different musicians. I'm never in one place." You say, feeling worried.

He sighs heavily, "I've been thinking about this before I asked you out… How about you become a full-time member of the crew? You and Bryan are amazing and you don't disrupt our show. You do your work and you don't cause any trouble." He says, sounding hopeful.

He tilts his head to gaze into your eyes, anxiety flashing in his. He waits anxiously as you press your lips together and nod. "OK, well, I love that idea but, I have anxiety and I need to know this is realistic with us living in different states." You say, feeling uncertain.

He shrugs, "I think we can make it work if we really care. We can communicate and see each other. It's not hopeless." He says, sounding confident. "I've thought about this since the first time I met you." He admits.

"You don't remember the first time you met me! Lies." You giggle.

He smirks as he stares you in the eyes. "You were wearing converse and that cute ass summer dress. You came in to the studio and I almost had a heart attack."

You look at him with a shy smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. He leans in slowly, his eyes locked on yours. He brushes his lips against yours softly and gently. You close your eyes and kiss him back, feeling a spark in your heart. He wraps his arms around you and deepens the kiss, making you melt in his embrace. You run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"I really like you, Noah." You say, feeling happy. "But I'm terrified."

He smiles and kisses your nose. "I really like you too." He says, "I'm terrified, but at least we can feel like this together." He teases. "We'll make it work. I have a good feeling about it."

You snuggle with him on the bench allowing his arms to wrap around you and watch the stars twinkle on the lake. You decide to follow your heart and see what happens. In the long run, you knew this would be worth it. Noah was worth it.

Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady @a-villain-vying-for-attention

#noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah Sebastian x you

[justkending]

Bullshit! How about a bet? (One-shot)

Summary: Who knew that being short would lead to such great benefits?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (shorter)

Word Count: 3900+

A/N: Once again, I dipped my toes into smuttier waters, but still am building up the courage to jump in fully... I have some announcements (life-wise) that I'm going to make soon, but I needed to write something after the week I had just to bring some happiness to my life, so here you are! I hope you enjoy :)

___________

I was adamant about finding some way to sue Tony Stark for placing the microwave at such an unnecessary height. 

I also planned to sue him for the emotional distress it had caused me this far with the teasing and mocking jokes the team landed on me when they watched me attempt to put food in it. 

Nat and I weren’t far from each other’s height, but either she didn’t use the microwave, or she was better at hiding when she did because I seemed to be the only one who got the quips thrown at me when I stood on the tips of my toes just to push something onto the turntable. 

To make the task harder, the door opened top to bottom like an oven instead of side to side like any normal version of the kitchen amenity did, making my arms stretch out as far as I could just to get whatever it was I needed to be heated up to actually go into the damn thing. 

Damn the rich for trying to be fancy where it was unnecessary!

Recently, I tried to adopt Nat’s efforts of never being seen doing the mundane daily act, and the last few times, I had been successful. My luck seemed to run out today...

Trying to make my task as quick as possible, I pulled the door down and stood on my tiptoes to push my now lukewarm coffee mug into the middle of the turntable. 

“You’re so close, Pixie,” I heard behind me, and I cringed, finding I was far from being in the clear. 

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, knowing the voice of the person the nickname had originated from. I accepted that the mug was in the microwave even if it wasn’t centered. 

“Those aren’t nice words,” Bucky retorted, and I could hear the smug grin on his face even if I didn’t bother to look over at him. 

“You’re an angry Pixie today,” Sam added, walking to the counter and grabbing a banana off the stand in the middle, and then going to the fridge for a drink. 

“I thought you guys were on a tactical mission,” I groaned, pushing the buttons that were also too high quickly to start the radioactive machine. 

When I turned around, Bucky was closer now but had propped himself on the side of the bartop of the counter that faced the seating area ahead. Sam was still head deep into the fridge, trying to decide on his drink of choice. 

“We were. Finished it early,” Sam hummed as he ducked his head to see all the varieties of sodas, waters, and juices Tony kept stocked. “Weren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” 

“Canceled,” I answered shortly, glaring at Bucky, who seemed to still find my height funny as he grinned at me. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” he asked, playing coy. 

Instead of a response, I just sent him another hate-filled look. 

“Find a way to sue Tony yet?” Sam broke the stare-off we were having, and I didn’t process what he meant. 

“About what?” I looked at him.

“About the microwave being placed perfectly so that you look like a toddler trying to reach for the cookies on the top of the fridge,” Bucky answered for him.

I turned my head slowly and murderously to the brunette. 

“Out in the field isn’t the only place you can get killed,” I smiled, but there was no hint of joy or joking behind it—instead, a sadistic pull of my lips. 

“No threats,” he pointed at me with a warning Tony had started since forever ago, and I could see his shoulders tense even if he tried to hide the hint of discomfort. 

“Promises are different than threats,” I tilted my head with the smile still on my lips. 

“Stop that.” His body had ever so slightly leaned back. 

The microwave dinged before I could torment Bucky further, and I turned my head to look at it and then back at Sam. 

“I won’t replace your shampoo with nair if you get that for me,” I smiled, almost instantly turning the psychotic one into an innocent one. 

“Why would you do that, to begin with?” He asked, concerned, slowly moving to get my mug out of sheer fear. 

“I think you can take a decent guess,” I replied, watching him as he carefully brought the mug out and walked calculatingly to hand it to me. 

“Y/N,” he warned. 

“Hope you two have the day you deserve,” I skipped away, mimicking a child about to go prance through a field of flowers. 

“She scares me,” Sam whispered once I was out of the room. 

“Are we sure she’s not an evil serial killer on the side and just does this job to lessen her karma?” Bucky asked, their eyes still on the doorway I had left out of. 

—————————————-

“Bullshit!”

“I see they’ve started early,” Steve sighed, taking a tired sip of his coffee as he sat in the den where Bucky, Nat, Sam, and I were already up, causing chaos for the day.

“They got a bet going,” Sam explained while Steve sat beside him.

“What is it this time?” Steve questioned, looking between us three and keeping the lip of the mug close to his mouth.

“Bullshit!”

“Exactly that,” Sam smirked, grabbing his own cup of caffeine.

“Bucky claimed that Y/N couldn’t, and still hadn’t, beat him in Bullshit since our last Christmas party,” Nat said, joining on the other side of Steve with her own playing cards in hand, leaving him in the middle of the two. 

“I have beat him,” I mumbled, looking over my cards in hand as I debated on the next set to put down. “He just got the honorary win because we were called on a mission before I could put my cards down and go out.”

“If you didn’t get to play the winning hand, how did you win?” Bucky snarked, watching me carefully as I put two aces down. “Bullshit.” 

“Ha ha!” I pointed at him. “Pick 'em up, Buckaroo.” 

He rolled his eyes and looked down at the decent-sized pile of cards stacking up, seeing that I did, in fact, tell the truth and added them to his own hand. 

“Careful what you claim, Buck,” Steve retorted about more than one thing, only getting a middle finger in return from his friend, who stared at his new options. 

“There’s a larger bet hanging over this one,” Nat hummed, putting her two cards in before pulling her legs into a crossed position. 

“Yeah?” 

“If I win, he has to be my man-servant for the microwave,” I celebrated, putting down one three of clubs that I was lucky enough to have. My deck in hand was growing thinner and thinner. 

“And if not?” Steve asked. 

“If not, she can’t call me Buckaroo for five months,” Bucky mockingly sneered at me. 

“Actually, two weeks,” I shook my head, putting a card down. 

“If you’re so sure you’re going to win, why does it matter?” he said teasingly. I stuck my tongue out at him as a response. “Real mature.” 

“Just play your hand, Jackass.” 

He did, and on my turn, I went out.

“Hell, yes!” I jumped up and down, hands in the air, before doing a small victory dance. 

“How the hell?” Bucky looked absolutely flabbergasted by my win. “You had like ten cards left.” 

“Did I?” I cheered, showing my empty hands for effect. 

He turned to Nat, who had a grin on her face, and shrugged when she noticed his glare turned on her. 

“Don’t look at me. I played clean,” she laid her deck of cards neatly on the table and put her hands up in defense. 

“Fair win, Buck,” Steve laughed. 

“You’re my man-servant now,” I gleamed, dipping down to grab my mug of coffee and handing it to him. “Would you mind heating this up by chance? I forgot about it while I was busy kicking your ass.” 

“Yeah, because of how long it took you to do it,” he grumbled, not putting up a fight as he took it from my hand and stomped to the microwave passively. 

________________

Bucky’s POV

For the next week, Y/N multiplied her microwave use by a thousand. Things that didn’t even need microwaving were thrown in for two seconds sometimes, just to annoy me. 

She’d say stuff like, “Oh, perfect. It was just half a degree too cold,” or, “Careful, I burned my tongue last time 'cause you were too busy glaring at me to watch it. We don’t want to make that mistake again.” 

She even had me heat up Nat’s and Wanda’s food at one point, even though that wasn’t part of the bargain. Her reasoning should have had me leaving the room, but instead, Nat and Wanda had a nice glass of steaming apple cider in hand by the time I did leave. 

I was close to being done with it all and the constant nagging that accompanied it, so when I walked in and saw her in the kitchen today, I instantly turned on my heel and tried to run before she saw me… Luck wasn’t on my side...

“Oh, Buckaroo!” That name had multiplied its use as well... “I need to pop the popcorn for movie night, and I could use the help!”

I could have kept walking and brushed it off as if not hearing her, but no one was dumb enough to believe that. Damn my super hearing… And as annoyed as I was, I was a man of my word. I made a bet, and I lost. I only had six more days, eight hours, and 28 more minutes to go.

“Ten seconds at a time,” I muttered under my breath as I turned my direction back to the kitchen and stomped slowly to the microwave. 

I had been coming in here for my own hidden snacks for movie night and forgot that most of the team would be here for this night’s movie marathon. It had been a while since we all had some free time together, and even if the new chore had become irritating, Y/N was using it for good tonight by making sure everyone had their favorite popcorn in hand for the trilogy we were watching. 

“Why do you put all the work on yourself when they can come in here and make a bag themselves?” I asked, leaning on the counter where she was organizing the multiple varieties of popcorn we had stocked. She was measuring to make sure that everyone’s favorite was accounted for.

“Why not? It’s not hurting me,” she shrugged as if it was common sense and I was asking a dumb question. “Why do you pick the same two types of candy every time we have a movie night?” she shot back, looking at me and slightly nodding to the microwave. 

I took the message as I saw the timer count down from three and moved to grab the finished bag inside. 

“It’s a comfort food,” I argued my answer. 

“Exactly, and this is their comfort food. Plus, I don’t know, it’s one less step they have to map out. It’s already an exhausting part of our job having to think of the next step constantly, and it doesn’t bother me to do, so why not take an extra few actions so they don’t have to,” she simplified.

She handed me a prepped bag, ready for the microwave next. 

I took it and went back and forth for a while as I thought of her answer. 

I had learned over the years that Y/N’s love language had been acts of service, whether that was making sure that our favorite cereals were on the shopping list so we wouldn’t run out, or offering a blanket or pillow when she came into the same room as you before she got comfortable herself. 

We were almost always constantly tired from our jobs and just the general weight of the world on our shoulders some days. Having someone make popcorn for you on an off day was just one less action to do, and Y/N did more things to help us in that area than I had even tried to notice.

I had seen her acts of service being done, but mainly out of spite of not being one of the people who received them. Not because I wanted her to do things for me, more so the thought behind it. 

We bickered and got on each other’s nerves a lot, more so just to poke at her and see that fire in the pixie’s eyes on my end, but I didn’t get this kind of treatment as often. I had accepted it at this point, but the few times she had extended that kind of care to me, it felt like burning a candle on a fall day after deep cleaning for eight hours. Something about it put you at peace and made you feel even more at home. 

Maybe this deserved a conversation with her, even if I was terrified to wander into those grounds. 

We had quietly shuffled around the kitchen, and I had taken on the job as her co-chef as I grabbed multi-colored popcorn bowls to empty the bags into and organize them according to type. 

“Peter likes the bowl that looks like the Death Star cut in half,” she pointed at one of the bowls I had pulled down. “Tony got it for him for Christmas last year, and he uses it every movie night.” She smiled as she turned back to grab one of the last bags from the microwave. 

She was saying something about adding the extra-extra movie butter popcorn bags to that bowl, but I was already moving to her side to grab the bag that was just out of reach from her fingertips in the microwave. 

Her back molded into my chest as I reached over her, pulled the brown paper bag out, and handed it down to her. I wasn’t massively bigger than her, but the nickname Pixie held its title well. 

“I had it,” she looked up at me from behind, and damn it, if that didn’t stir something in me. 

The intimate position had me feeling a new kind of warmth, different from the subtle glow of a candle in a pristine room. Instead, a weird and fuzzy feeling of realization made goosebumps form up my arms, but I didn’t quite understand what it was. 

Was this a form of anxiety I hadn’t felt yet?  I snapped out of it when I noticed I had stayed there a beat too long, and Y/N looked worried.

“We made a deal,” I said, grabbing the last bag to pop out of her hand and placing it in the microwave. “I’m a man of my word,” I added, clearing my throat and reminding myself out loud that that was the only reason I was not moving from my spot with her back in my chest and our bodies practically molding into the others. 

“You really hold up your end of the bargain,” she smiled and ducked under my arm, immediately leaving me in the cold. 

I snapped out of the headspace I was thrown into without a choice and shook my head as I helped her finish the last few tasks before accompanying her to the movie den. 

My days were almost up with being Y/N’s personal microwave-er, but for whatever reason, there was this new realization I had that made the excuse of being near her in this way not as frustrating.

I made it an excuse to try and get closer to her again and again, and not just for kitchen amenity requirements, but anytime she couldn’t reach something, which I was learning was a lot. 

Any form of aid, like trying to get a box from the top of the pantry, trying to reach a book or file on the top of a shelf, or trying to put a mug back when she was emptying the dishwasher. 

Currently, I had walked by her room, door open, and saw her struggling to hang a new picture frame on her wall, being just a few inches too short as normal. 

“Fucking hell.” I heard her mumble as she looked around for a chair. 

Before she could move from her spot, I was already behind her, hanging it to the spot she was replacing. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, but the tone in her voice wasn’t a grateful one. “What is going on with you?” She turned and crossed her arms, looking up at me while I centered the gold frame before pulling away. 

“What do you mean?” I cleared my throat, not sure if I even knew what I was doing. 

“Don’t play coy,” she leaned back on her heel, anchoring her stance at me. 

“We made a deal,” I answered, even though it was a half-assed one, but it was better than admitting what I was feeling. Or at least I thought it was…

“For the microwave. Mind you, that ends tomorrow,” she pointed out. “What’s with all the extra help suddenly?” 

I hesitated, not sure what route I wanted to take. 

“I realized you have more things you struggle with than just in the kitchen. I figured you’d be happy to be getting a bang for your buck.”

“Bang for my Buck?” she said back with a raised eyebrow, and I heard it even if I didn’t mean it that way. Or did I?

“Yeah, getting what you bargained for,” I swallowed thickly, seeing a new fire in her eye I didn’t understand. 

“Bang for my buck, or are you trying to get a bang for your buck?” she said softly, taking a step forward. 

I froze as our chests were inches from touching, and she looked up at me in a way that would make any man melt. 

“It was the bet,” I cleared my throat, and the sound of something in the hall broke our attention from each other. “I should go check on that,” I stepped back, stabbing my thumb behind me but failing to pull my eyes from hers. 

“Should you?” she shrugged, with a sly smirk on her lips. 

I couldn’t help but stare when her tongue slowly came out to wet her lips. When I looked back at her eyes, all traces of annoyance were gone, and elements of lust took over. 

“You hate me,” I stated, knowing- or at least thinking I knew- that this feeling of chemistry would ruin us if we gave into it.  

“I don’t recall ever saying that,” she tilted her head to the side, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Actions speak louder than words,” I swallowed when the two-inch gap between us became one. 

“Why so nervous?” she ignored me. 

I hesitated because there were a million things going through my brain to answer why I was stiffening at the change in energy between us. 

“We shouldn’t-”

“Actions speak louder than words, though. And hate to break it to ya, but your actions have been showing otherwise.” Her fingers brushed my chest, and I held back a shiver that threatened to escape. “I’ll stop if you want,” she offered, halting her hand in the middle of my sternum and looking up at me before smiling mischievously again. “But you have to say something.”

My jaw tensed, and I saw her trying to read the emotions on my face. Unlucky for her, she had just flipped a switch I don’t think she meant to touch. 

I immediately turned and, with determination, walked to the door. I heard a subtle “pft” behind me like she was disappointed in my choice, but she was sorely wrong if she thought I was leaving now. She didn’t get to look at me with those eyes, bite those damn lips, and make threats she didn’t plan on following through with. 

With a quick slam, I bolted the door handle and turned to look at her from my spot. 

Now I had the upper hand, and her eyebrows were raising. 

“It’s not nice to make threats,” I said lowly and took slow and careful steps closer. I could see her go rigid now. “Unless, of course, this is actually one of your promises. Either way, don’t say something you’ll regret following through with.” 

“Should I regret it?” she hummed, and even if she looked more relaxed, I could tell she was still trying to read me and couldn’t quite follow if I was serious or teasing her back. 

“How good is your judgment?” I asked, doubling my stride until my hands were on her hips, and she was pinned to me. A sharp intake was the instant response I got from her. 

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s losing its edge right about now…” Her chest heaved in quick motions, but she tried to act as if unphased by the proximity. 

“I’ll stop right now,” I mimicked her words from earlier, but not without lowering my face to hers and stopping mere centimeters from her lips. “But you have to speak up.” 

Her breath was on my lips as her own parted, waiting for clarity to come back to her, but she stayed looking over my features, debating all her choices. 

“Answer me this,” her hands slowly and delicately took my forearms as she held me in place, our hips brushing each other in close proximity. My hands couldn’t help but squeeze in a possessive manner. “When did you realize it?”

“Realize what?” Our nearness made the tips of our noses brush, and the heat between us grew with each passing second.

“That you wanted this?” Her hands traveled up to my elbows, and she needily pulled me closer, causing our lower halves to slam in friction. 

I stifled a low moan, even if it took all the willpower in my body to do so. 

“Darling.” One of my hands on her waist moved to her lower back, and I pulled her in enough for our chest to connect next. The other hand released to come up and cup her jaw. “I’d be lying to you and myself if I said it hasn’t been a daydream of mine for a while.”

She tried to hide her smile by biting the inside of her cheek, and my thumb brushed over the movement. 

“It’s taken you fucking forever to do something about it,” she replied breathily. 

“Made it damn hard to know the feelings were mutual, doll,” I said back, looking down at her lips and keeping my attention there for a second longer to prove my point. 

“Where’s the fun in easy?” she said, pulling me into her, and our lips crashed without hesitation. 

I was hungry for something I’d been starved of for far too long, and the feeling seemed to be reciprocated on her end because the next thing I knew, we were pulling and tearing at each other’s clothes like they were on fire, and we had seconds to live before they consumed us. 

“We should make more bets,” she said breathlessly as she moved feverishly to undo the buttons on her jeans.

“I agree, Pixie,” I huffed, throwing her shirt off before moving to take mine off next. 

“I bet you can’t make me-”

“Oh, there are going to be a lot of things I’m gonna make you do after waiting this long. No bet’s necessary…” 

I pushed her back on the bed, and she fell back on her elbows, looking up at me with wide eyes and a blushed complexion. 

“I like the way you talk, Barnes. Now show me instead of telling me.”

​​​​​​​​​​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader one shot #justkending #marvel one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x shorter reader #justkending bucky barnes #marvel #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes x reader insert #smutty but not full smut #slow burn one shot

[burst-of-iridescent]

atla live action thoughts: season one review

first things first: anyone who says the Movie That Does Not Exist is better than the live action is straight-up lying. the shymalan film fails on the criteria of even being a decent movie, let alone an adaptation. the netflix series, for all its problems, is at least an enjoyable watch with great effects, music and (mostly) appropriate casting. there's absolutely nothing to compare here - the netflix version clears easily.

now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's delve into the series, starting with the positives.

the good:

visuals and cinematography. they really did a great job of making it feel like a fantasy universe you wanted to be in & i love how vibrant the saturation and colour grading was. it made the world feel so much more dynamic and alive instead of the same flat, boring dullness that so many movies and shows have these days. sometimes i didn't even mind that i was being fed obvious exposition because at least they were giving me something pretty to look at lmao

effects and action. the bending was surprisingly good for the most part, and they did a good job of making the elements feel unique through the stunt choreography and the actors' movements. i'm immensely thankful they didn't try to skimp on budget by merely cutting away from fight scenes or showing us as little as possible. almost all the action sequences were fast-paced and engaging, and i was never bored watching them

acting. the main four were all great, but gordon cormier and dallas liu have to be the standouts for me. gordon brings such an earnest, innocent sweetness to aang that you can't help but like him, and dallas plays all of zuko's facets perfectly: the angst, the explosive anger, the bratty snark, and especially the deep-rooted pain that characterizes so many of zuko's actions in book 1. the range he has, especially when flashing from younger to older zuko, was insane. special shoutout to maria zhang and sebastian amoruso as suki and jet respectively, because they killed it

music. leaves from the vine instrumental had me tearbending and i love how they kept the iconic avatar theme while making it a little darker for this iteration of the story. in general, the soundtrack felt very true to the animation while still being a fresh spin on it

zuko and iroh's relationship and expanding on zuko's crew. i think the fandom universally agrees that lu ten's funeral and zuko's crew being the 41st division were the best changes in the series, so i'm not going to talk about it further other than to say that these scenes show me what the show can be, and that's why i'm not giving up on it

the bad:

characterization. almost all the main characters are missing the little nuances that made them so great in the original, but the greatest casualty is katara. i hate that they took away so much of her rage, and gave many of her traits and struggles to sokka. i don't think this is a problem solely with the writing though, because certain lines do feel like things animated katara would say, but the directing and line delivery don't have the same punch that made her so fierce in the original. this is an easily fixed issue though, so i hope they take the criticism and let my girl be angry and fuck shit up next season

exposition. this was primarily a problem in depicting aang's personality and the relationship between the gaang, because a) why are you TELLING me that aang is mischievous and fun-loving instead of just showing me and b) the gaang do NOT feel like close friends, mostly because they spend so much time apart in every episode that they have little screentime to actually bond and develop intimacy.

lack of focus on the intricacies of bending. for a show whose tagline is "master your element" the characters spend very little time actually... mastering their element. zuko is never shown to struggle with firebending (which is going to have ramifications when it comes to developing his relationship with azula), and neither aang nor katara ever learn waterbending from a master throughout the the entire show. i'm pretty sure aang never willingly waterbends ONCE in the entire eight episodes, discounting the avatar state and koizilla. bending isn't just cool martial arts, it's closely linked to the philosophies and spirituality of each nation, and i wish that had been explored more.

pacing. they really needed to do a better job of conveying that time passed between episodes because an 8-episode season is just going to FEEL shorter than a 20-episode one. the original animation felt as though they'd truly been on a long journey before arriving at the north, but here it feels like the entire show happened in the span of a fortnight or so because each episode seemed to pick up right after the previous. they needed to have more downtime within episodes instead of just rushing from plot beat to plot beat because it made everything feel a lot more rushed. give the characters and story time to breathe.

final rating: 7/10.

overall, i would describe the live action as a better version of the percy jackson movies - not an accurate or perfect adaptation, but a decent story that's very fun to watch. but what really makes me root for this show to get a season 2 is that it has a lot of potential and more importantly, a lot of heart. it's evident that the people who worked on it do genuinely love and respect the original series, and it shows onscreen.

regardless of anything else, this show created opportunities for so many asian and indigenous actors, writers and creators to tell the kinds of stories and play the kinds of roles they don't usually get, and that's something worth supporting. if they take the criticism from this season and improve, i believe they really do have something special on their hands which - although it might not be the original we all know and love - could still be a story to be proud of.

#atla live action

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 6 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by @wittlesissyb4by called Besties. Check out all their fantastic stories on Tumblr and SubscribeStar.

—————

Besties 6: Alone with Ms. Lyndsey

“Heather, seriously?” I laughed; “is Connor really cool with all of this? Cause I know he’s not, y’know…” Heather laughed in response, walking out of the nursery, back to her bedroom. "No, he’s too much of a real man to give a shit about that," she snickered, pointing to Brandon, "Brandi just has a tight little ass that could milk a big dick and Connor likes to fuck it occasionally!"

Heather went back into the bathroom to wrap things up, leaving me alone with Brandi. "Connor gets it," she called out. "Sometimes I just want him to tear into Brandi’s ass because I get off on seeing it." There was a moment of silence. "Other times, Daddy Connor just wants to show her who the real man is in this household."

"Does Brandi like it?" I couldn't help but ask even though I already knew the answer. Heather emerged from the bathroom, rocking a killer outfit with her tight trench coat and those red heels, looking like a total babe. She had the biggest grin on her face. "The real question is," she giggled, "does she even have a choice? Now, Brandi, I'm heading out. You better behave for Ms. Lyndsey, be a good girl. Don't forget, if I hear any complaints, Daddy will find out!"

She turned and gave me a wicked grin. "He'll be getting punished either way, good girl or not. But if she acts up, let me know. I'll send you all the deets and instructions. Don’t forget, her dinner's in the fridge. Oh and do me a solid, share all the pics and vids I send you tonight with Brandi. She loves seeing Mommy's naughty side during my date nights!" She hugged me and lightly tapped Brandi's butt before strutting out of the room with a smirk.

I couldn't help but smirk as I saw Brandon, the man who was once so full of himself, reduced to nothing but a pathetic little sissy in a frilly dress and diaper, forced to face the consequences of his asshole behavior. I loved that my best friend had made it all happen. She took away his power, his pleasure, his whole life. I bet she wasn't done yet either. "Oh, look how far Brandi has fallen," I taunted as I grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to meet my gaze. "But don't worry, we can make you sink even further."

"You, like, have noooo idea how much shit I'm about to put you through, baby bitch," I cackled, eyeing Sissy Brandi's pathetic little frame. I pivoted, checking myself out in the mirror. This situation called for a whole different vibe. I came dressed down to Heather's place, but now it's time to bring out the big guns. I rummaged through her drawers until I found the perfect thing: a sexy black lingerie set.

Turning to Brandi, I couldn't resist poking fun at his sorry excuse for masculinity. "Heather and I have been swapping clothes and men since college," I said with a sly smile, knowing how much that would hurt his fragile ego. "All of them way better than you, of course." I held up the lingerie set and let him squirm in embarrassment. "But hey, some things never change, right?" I could practically hear him whimpering under that gag, clueless to what was happening behind him. Tossing the lingerie onto the bed, I couldn't wait to see his reaction.

I ran my perfectly manicured nails through Brandi's hair, feeling him tremble as I whispered, "Relax sweetheart, we have all night to play. No need to get too worked up just yet." A sharp slap on his ass made him squirm with anticipation as I continued my search, this time in the nightstand.

I pretended to be all innocent, asking with a sly smirk on my face, "Hm, I wonder if your mommy has any fun toys hiding in here?" I couldn't help but laugh as I found the handcuffs and the Hitachi wand, more evidence of Heather's kinky side. I turned again to Brandon with a smug look, ready to ruin his night.

"Anti-crucio!" I yelled, watching as Brandi immediately spun around to face me. My grin couldn't get any bigger as I twirled the handcuffs on my finger. "You have 12 seconds of freedom, just to hear how screwed you are, Brandi," I gloated, poking my finger into his chest.

#humili sissi

[fullt4nk]

submit to me (shuriri x reader) 18+

hey 🤭 this is my first time writing on tumblr and im lowk scared.. like what do I even say in one of these authors notes things??? prolly gonna pop up every once in a while with smth for people to read idk yet tho 🤷🏾‍♀️

gotta give cred where it’s due, this is heavily inspired by @generallysapphic their works are incredible

warnings: reader and riri are subby lil whores, tribbing, lottaaaa lotta lotta sex, basically porn w/o plot, voyeurism if yew squint, maybe a lil degradation if yew squint

some translations: zithandwa zam- my loves, uthando- love, khawulezisa- hurry up

bored, bored, bast i’m so bored.

I have gotten no attention from my loves all day and I was starting to get angsty. swinging my legs back and forth on the desk I was sitting on, I played around with riri’s hammer that was placed on the desk and hummed a small tune.

riri walked over to me as I jumped from my place on the desk; finally, some attention. I smiled at her expectingly as she walked over, excited be with one of my girlfriends.

she walked right behind me to reach for her tool box. well damn.

as she picked up a tool from her took box she turns to shuri, “shuri catch,” she yelled, throwing a wrench from her tool box right towards shuri.

she caught the wrench with ease. “how many times do I need to tell you to stop throwing heavy objects around riri?” last time riri threw a cogwheel towards shuri without looking, she broke a prototype shuri spent hours working on… it didn’t go well for her.

“my bad baby,” she said walking back to her original spot at her desk. I watched them work with a hot feeling in my stomach. damn they look good. with shuri in nothing but a tank top and sweats, i watched her arms flex every time she used that wrench. riri had on a sports bra and shorts. i watched her perfectly pierced nipples on display through the bra as thoughts of my lips attached to them racked through my mind

I could feel myself getting more fidgety as i watched their bodies move and work away at whatever they were building. at this point, anything was better than sitting and watching them work themselves to death in this damn lab. an idea popped into my mind and I fake a yawn best I can, throwing my hands above my head and stretching. my slightly cropped shirt lifted and a small portion of my midriff became exposed as riri watched me, eyes drifting.

just what I wanted

“you good?” she questioned. she looked me up and down and she could tell how bored I was just by looking into my eyes. “we’ll be there in a minute just wait a little longer baby.”

“nah i’m tryna take a nap… i’ll be back in a minute,” I said, looking and riri with a certain look. she immediately caught on to what I meant by “nap” and bit her lip.

“um yeah shuri I think imma go too. we been working since 7am and i’m tired as hell,” she said, only half meaning it. yeah she was tired, but not tired as in “I wanna sleep” tired. tired as in “i’m tired of working and wanna mess around” tired.

“you two go ahead, i’ll be there for diner.” shuri gave riri a kiss on the forehead and walked over to me to hug me. “get some rest, zithandwa zam.”

“haaah fuck please please please,” I whined and writhed all over the place. riri’s clit rubbing against mine having too big of an effect on my orgasm. “please don’t stop. need it need it so bad.”

“nghh im gonna cum fuck i’m gonna cum so hard ohhh my god,” riri’s eyes were glued shut as she wailed and moaned on top of me. her dripping pussy on mine like felt like heaven that I never wanted to let go of. and fuck the sounds she made, all whiny and high pitch. she especially got like this whenever we were tribbing, saying it was her favorite way to get off.

“please, please, please, wanna cum, fuck i wanna cum, i wanna cum all over your beautiful pussy please let me cum!” she babbled into my neck as my legs shook. fuck she’s cumming, I can feel her pussy get impossibly wetter. it drips against my folds and it’s just enough to send me over the edge.

“cumming, cumming, cumming im cumming-!” I silently screamed into riri’s chest and softly bit her nipple to quiet myself down. “ngh-! fuck fuck baby do that again please,” she begged

I softly bit her nipple again looking into her brown eyes, licking and biting softly as she moaned and squirmed in my arms. because her nipples were pierced, her sensitivity was through the roof as she arched her back, forcing her chest further into my face. I couldn’t help it as I began moving against her, wanting more friction on my clit. I knew I was overstimulating her, but god she felt so good.

“shit please baby please,” at this point I was begging just to beg. I just wanted more of her and her creamy pussy on mine. I wanted to smother myself in her chest as I sucked and nibbled on her perky nipples. fuck I could do this all day.

“wow. so I leave you two alone for 30 minutes and you’re already going at it like you’re in heat.”

fuck.

riri is quick to jump down from my lap, leaving my wet cunt exposed to shuri. “f-fuck um-“ riri panicked looking anywhere and everywhere to avoid shuri’s piercing gaze.

“shhh no need uthando. both of you, go back to what you were doing.” she tilted her head to the side and smirked in amusement. she was planning something, I could see it in the way she looked me up and down.

“please shuri-“ I whined as my breathing picked up, excited to know what she had in mind. “nope, no help from me. c’mon give me a show you two. i’ve been working so hard to protect this nation, i think I deserve a private performance.” she is vividly eyeing my fluttering cunt chuckling at it’s reaction to her presence.

me and riri are looking at her like deer in headlights, wide eyed and shocked at shuri’s request. we’ve never done anything like this before and judging by the look on riri’s face, she’s just as shocked and turned on as I am.

“khawulezisa, i don’t have all day,” she demands in a deep voice, thick with her accent, and fuck it’s so sexy. she takes off her tank top and throws it somewhere around the room, exposing her perfect torso and breasts. riri slowly climbs on top of me again and her clit slightly rubs against mine, making us both moan out.

we slowly find our rhythm again, grinding against each other with our eyes shut. there’s a new found feeling that makes me clench around nothing, knowing that shuri is watching me and riri moan and rub against each other. our chests are rubbing against each other, making riri pant even louder and heavier.

shurir stalks her way over to the bed to whisper in riri’s ear, “you like having your nipples played with like this?” as reaches between us, she’s squeezes and rubs riri’s nipples. riri moans in ecstasy, rubbing faster against me. shuri’s low voice in riri’s ear is enough to have her like a bitch in heat, grinding her pussy on me. “nngh, fuck riri slow down!” our clits gaining more friction causes a high pitch whine to escape my lips, as my eyes roll back; god this feels so good.

“haaa fuck shuri please. need you so bad, need to feel you, need to feel you deep- haah!” moans and pleads roll off my tongue like it’s nothing, begging shuri to fuck me. “poor usana, need something long and thick in this pretty pussy huh? what, riri isn’t enough anymore? she seemed like enough before I walked in here,” she says, reaching in between us to run her fingers through my folds. she rubs against me and riri, as we grind into shuri’s hand.

shuri could feel the wet spot between her draws as she watched her love’s pathetically rub against each other. she wanted nothing more than to take them right then and there, but she had to be patient and enjoy the scenery in front of her. “wanna cum usana? wanna cum for me? c’mon cum all over each other. fuck, it’s so wet I can see it. I can hear it. go on my love’s, cum for me.”

fuck that’ll do it.

riri is absolutely gone. shaking, crying of overstimulation, moaning, she was all fucked out as her thick creamy cum spilled over my pussy and shuri’s hand. my cum mixing in with hers as I bit into her neck to quiet my squeals.

“look at you two, such good girls for me yeah?” shuri’s lips connected with mine as she slipped her tongue into my mouth. fuck she drives me crazy as her tongue explores and licks every crevice of my mouth. she detaches from me, a string of spit keeping us together.

she turns to lean into riri, as riri completely opens her mouth for shuri, reaching her tongue out. shuri sucks on riri’s tongue, slow and sensually, letting her tongue into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down. riri whines and pinches her nipple, feeling her cunt clenched around nothing.

shuri slaps her hands away from her breasts and says “patience my love, i’ll take care of you..”

LMFOAOA I PRESSED THE POST BUTTON TOO SOON BY ACCIDENT 😭

but we’re already rackin up some typa engagement ok I see y’all !!

maybe i’ll write more, who knows BUT FOR NOW THIS IS WHAT I GOT

#shuri #shuri imagine #letitia wright shuri #shuri is for the bitches #shuriri #shuri x y/n #shuriri x reader #shuri x reader #letitia wright #letitia wright x reader #princess shuri #black panther wakanda forever

[fantasy-relax]

Jealous Kitty

Donna Beneviento x Reader (MC)

Stupid Cassandra, with her stupid crying and her stupid play.

Stupid you.

It all started because the one supposed to play Romeo got injured seven months before the play and the understudy give up four months after that.

Meaning that Cassandra had three months to find a Romeo that met her standards, so obviously she was in panic.

When you came back from working in the flowershop, she was crying in Daniela arms.

"Ruined is ruined! Everything is collapsing!"

"Cass calm down you just need someone else to play the part"

"Is not a background character Dani is ROMEO" she separated from her sister, the anger in her face made her look demented "ROMEO! HOW I SUPPOSED TO PRESENT ROMEO AND JULIETA WITHOUT FUCKING ROMEO"

She started crying again and Daniela just patted her back awkwardly.

Of course you had to open your big mouth

"umm I already had the role of Romeo, in high school I'm rusty but maybe with some practice.."

The words stuck in your throat when he brunette turned to look at you with that manic look. You took a step back almost instinctively.

She walked to her bag and put out the script and practically threw it at your face.

"Go on"

You did.

Silence.

Okay that offended you a little bit.

The actress jumped at you.

"YES, YES I CAN WORK WITH YOU JUST A FEW IMPROVEMENTS AND EVERYTHING WILL BE PERFECT"

Suddenly you remembered the times that had you gone to theater with Donna and how hard Cassandra was as director, you wanted to back up but seeing the dry tears, red nose and ruined mascara made you do it.

You don't wanted to quit working and Cassandra begrudgingly accepted it. So you had a small chat with Donna... A little tense one.

"You are going to leave me? For Cassandra" Her voice was soft but there was a certain level of poison in her words.

" I don't going to leave you, I'm just gonna be in Cassandra's play" You remarked " For three months and one week approximately. The Romeo original is going to be better by that time. I still want to work with you, I just need to change the schedule for that.

She still looked hurt and angry.

"if is not okay with you, I-"

"Ok" she said between clenched teeth" Okay, you need a more flexible schedule I can do that, It will be just for few months and you will come back to me " It sounded like she was convincing herself more than you.

"I will always come back to you"

So that's how you ended in hell for a few months. Cassandra was a perfectionist and it showed. Sometimes Donna will show mercy to you and let you rest or make you move pot one side to another until she feel like you learned your lesson whatever it was.

(It was curious how always happened in the days were the most romantic scenes were rehearsed and she was there making some necessary adjustments in the scenery)

After some troubles with Cassandra's Stans, everything had gone perfectly. Cassandra kept her word (after hours of trying to convince you of joining) and you were free to work with Donna, that some days later became your girlfriend.

Everything was perfect.

Until a month later you started to notice how much people was looking at you, giggling and sighing. You thought that were making fun of you, God, you will had preferred that.

"it seems you have your own fan club" Angie had told you one day that you commented your situation "and they seem as horny as the one of Cassandra"

" You did a amazing job as Romeo" Cassandra said proudly "of course you would end with fans"

Good news. The sales in the flowershop grew exponentially.

Bad news. The possessiveness of your girlfriend grew the same.

Donna was a really, really, really jealous woman.

It seems that her jealousy outgrow her shyness because every single time some fan came to flirt with you she will appear like a ghost and steal a kiss from you while glaring at the offender.

That escalated to her practically growling at anybody that entered the shop and look it at you for more than five minutes.

Trying to avoid hurting the business you tell her kindly to maintain a professional image in the shop, that mean no kisses in front, no stealing you away to the nursery when you are working and no picking fights with the clients.

She looked so damn sad that you almost bend your knee, but this was the best option, the glamour will fade way sooner or later but the reputation of her shop will be damaged. That was your reasoning.

She understood and both of you could make up in the lunch break. If you ended with a lot hickies as result, well it wasn't a bad thing.

Until one day, one fan was particularly stubborn.

"I had a girlfriend, here is your order, have a nice day" You were fast not wanting to interact with her for most time of need

"Come on handsome, let me show you a good time" her tits were practically spilling in that outfit of her, and did her skirt even covered something?

"That shy mouse? Baby I will rock your world!"

"Have a nice day" You said sternly pointing at the door.

" Here if you change your mind" she let a paper in the counter and walked away.

You picked the paper, a number, and throw in the trash.

You should have teared it up.

Donna had picked up and now she wasn't talking to you at all. She avoided you and it was frustrating.

When she came to the front you grabbed her arm but she easyly got her arm out of your grip.

" We must keep a professional image in the shop, remember?" and just like that she got back to the nursery.

But she don't kiss you at all! Opening time, Lunch break, closing time, nothing!.

Stupid Cassandra, with her stupid crying and her stupid play.

Stupid you.

A week of that and you were ready to fist fight God for a kiss from your beloved botanist.

You were in the shop, clients coming and going, some fans buying something just to talk to you.

Five o'clock your torturer come out her hiding.

" Why dont you take a break I made some chamomile tea"

You nodded, you go to the kitchen bringing the cup at the front as you known how much she loathed dealing with people.

"So what do you say pretty girl, go out with me?" Some fucking bitch was flirting with your girlfriend that looked far to pleased with that.

" Well I have been a little neglected" you freeze at that...WHAT THE FUCK DONNA "but is a no, sorry"

" Oh well I try it" she was gone.

You were furious. But before you could get close to your girlfriend.

"Professional image, dolcezza" it's all she said before going back to the nursery.

You were fuming all the time. At the end of the day you looked at her.

"Do you mind if I walk you home?"

"It will be my pleasure, Tesoro"

The walk was silent one.

At the steps of her family home you looked at her, she just look back to you all innocent. Like she hadn't being neglecting you for a week.

She took a step to you.. And patted your shoulder with a hand full of dirt. You blinked at her audacity.

"See you tomorrow, dolcezza" with that she walked opening the door.

*Enough* you picked her up like sack of potatoes over your shoulder adrenaline and anger giving you strength, closing the door with your leg you make your way to her room, opening the door aggressively and throwing your little shit of girlfriend in the bed.

"Why are you being so rough? " She was pouting but you can see the mischievous shine in her eyes.

Without answering her question you kiss her with all the hunger you had been keeping inside. Freeing her hair out of her bun, you tore her shirt open, kissing her free skin hearing her soft sighs you bite her clothed breast while taking off her pants.

You move away to see her, smiling at her appearance, just a few minutes and she was already a mess, panting trying to catch her breath, tears in her eyes, her underwear exposed and her panties with a clear stain.

"Beautiful"

She blushes smiling at you. You are still mad so you grab her legs moving her to the border of the bed, quickly you kneel you have been starving and now you will devour her.

-----------—---------------------------------

"I'm sorry Cara mia is all I have"

Suddenly the only clothes that you girlfriend had clean are tank tops.

Of course.

Casually she forgot to cut her nails and now your back and shoulders are covered in scratch marks.

Of course.

There is a important exam that you need to present today if you don't want to fail the subject.

Of course.

And she is looking far to pleased with herself to be believed.

Little minx.

You have to walk all the way to school, with the marks in full exposure.

Of fucking course you ran in some familiar faces.

Cassandra.

"Damn, aunty's game is good" you grab her coffee and drink it all. Ignoring her.

Angie

"Gross" is all she said before running in the opposite direction.

Mia

"Nice" she hold her hand up and for some fucking reason you automatically high five her.

There was some time before the exam so you ran to your room...

WHERE ARE ALL YOUR CLOTHES?

Empty, every single drawer is empty. And Daniela room is locked, you could pick the lock but you are running out of time so again with your face burning you go to the classroom.

After the exam you go back to your room, Daniela is there.

"Can you lend me some clothes? Mine vanished"

She looked confused then red when she understood why you were like that and shyly answer you

"Sorry all dirty"

"Are you serious?!"

"Is not my fault that you choose to get freaky today!"

You looked at the clock, it was time to work.

After another walk of shame, you enter the flowershop.

--------–——--------------------------------

Every single client had a particular reaction to you appearance. You have been laughed, scoffed and nodded.

" Ah, problems with a misbehaving kitty?" the old man in front you laughed softly at you "here this cream work wonders for that injuries"

He scribbled the name of the medicine and give to you. You can hear the laughter of your girlfriend in the back, she was having a blast with all this.

"Thank you, sir"

"Is nothing dear, I remember when I was younger my beloved Jerry was a jealous and clingy kitty, always wanting to be with me, practically throwing himself at me, fighting with whoever took my attention away" he was smiling softly while moving his head and hands excitedly "it was a problem when I had to work, he don't like being alone that much so I make sure to let him know every night that I love him very much and that I will never leave his side.

It was a nice story that cat surely was a loved one.

"Hey what is taking you so much! We're going to be late!" another old man with more gray hair than the one I'm front of you said" hurry up!

The man in front you just laughed.

"See, so clingy" Wait what? " make sure to show your kitten love continously less they want to scratch you up" he blinked at you smiling at your red face" ah young love " he turned around" I'm coming Jerry!

" Wisdom of your elders never should be wasted" you flinched, she was too quiet when she wanted" you should treat your Kitten right.

"I'm gonna start by putting a damn bell on you" you said before grabbing her by her waist.

"What about the Professional image, dolcezza?" the smirk in her face was enough to know that she thought the same as you.

"To hell with it" you kissed her" I need to take good care of my sweet, clingy and jealous kitty.

#Resident lover #donna beneviento #My work