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hellavile · 25 days

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━━ 𝑘𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 .ᐟ satoru + getou.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.9k. fem chubby reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded, threesome but getou’s our boyfie so boyfriend’s best friend trope!, anal + vaginal penetration, oral [ f ], handjob, a few lil gay moments teehee, getou is kinda insecure, satoru takes most of the lead, spitting, choking, check ins, impact play, praising, condom use, cockwarming, creampie, potential polyamory?, minors aren’t welcomed!

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; dedicated to my bestie bc she harassed me about a getou + gojo fic since i never continued impure :/ <3 @thecoochiefairy

their postures are statue-like once you step foot out of the bathroom, both men eyeing you from head to toe, getou instantly standing to his feet with clammy hands he rested on his hips. satoru remained seated, legs spread as he groaned and pulled at his soft snow hair. they were lost for words. while they were busy finding a bar to grab a drink at the mall, you wandered off in search of a lingerie set, finding a simple pearl white babydoll, sheer mesh bodice, an open flyaway back, and matching panty set. it made you feel pretty, so you wore it for them.

their silence made your heart race nervously, playing with the fabric as your eyes flicker between the two faces, waiting for a response.

"you like it?" your voice is quiet as a mouse.

"i love it," they say in unison. getou blinks, forgetting he was here, honestly.

"you're fuckin' gorgeous, baby," satoru finally stands, being the first one to walk towards you, cupping the side of your face in his palm. you grow hot immediately. "stunning."

even though you've never had the slightest sexual encounter with satoru, the way he had your mind running wild with imagination was near insanity. of course, it was wrong to think of another man while clearly in a committed relationship. but, it was impossible when he was always around you. making jokes here and there about clearly wanting to fuck you. the infatuation was clear as day. you hated your attraction to him. that's why you had to do this, why you wanted it. both of them at once. your feelings were mutual towards them equally, and the sexual tension would never ease unless this happened. plus, it was your birthday. and as your gift, you asked getou for this one thing. your puppy dog eyes making him unable to object.

"give me your hands," you hold out both of yours, getou swallowing and coming forward to gently clasp your small hand, satoru doing the same before you smile and turn, the men stumbling behind you with their eyes on your ass, guiding them towards the bedroom.

a rush of confidence sparks through you now. you've been wanting this for so long, so it's only right that you show them. closing the door behind them, they stare ahead, looking down to see your fingers delicately skid across their abdomens, lifting their shirts and moaning at the abs on both of their bodies. they were toned, buff in the arms but nothing steroid-like. deeply cut v-lines and slim waists. you nearly drool from the feel, desperate to clutch their waists as they fucked you hard without a care.

"baby," it's clear you're referring to getou by the purr in your voice, tits pressed firmly against his side as he looks down at you with a clench of his jaw.

"mhm?" is how he responds, trying his best to remain complacent.

"take control," you bat your lashes. "it's your pussy before his."

getou groans, satoru's grin is sadistic, finding himself clasping your wrist, taking your attention from your boyfriend and burning his eyes in your own, tugging you near him. he caresses your face admirably, humming.

"aren't you obedient," satoru's palm slaps against the side of your cheek as he chuckles, and to getou's point of view, it's absurdly violent. you've never felt this spark before, the action making your heart thump with excitement. the look on your boyfriend's face was pure anger, that deadpanned expression only meaning that he was ready to snap. satoru tries to do it again, but is stopped as soon as getou catches his wrist forcefully.

"are you asking to die?" getou seethes, satoru only raising a brow, no remorse.

"you're really blind, huh?" satoru laughs, side-eyeing you. "she likes it. don't tell me your sex life is that dull."

getou inhales, releasing his wrist once you touch the side of his face reassuringly, smiling hazily. "i like it, it's okay."

he's stuck. not sure how to respond nor react. there's so much more he has to know about you. teach himself about. even though it's only been four months into your relationship, he feels like a stranger, uneducated about your sexual desires. now he's concerned if he pleasures you enough or not. maybe this was a lesson. maybe he should let satoru do most of the work and observe while still being present. watch your reactions to things he says or does that rile you up. there was nothing wrong with being taught.

"tell me what you want," getou clenches his jaw, grabbing the back of your head and tugging softly. getou was extremely soft and caring during sex, and although you were fond of it, sometimes you wanted him to be the opposite. "i'll give you anything. just say it."

warmth fills your chest, so entranced by his sweetness. your eyes lock with satoru's, "wanna ride his face."

satoru tongues his inner cheek, looking you up and down once more. " 'course you do."

getou has his eyes on you the entire time, those big eyes of yours wide with anticipation. "can i?”

"don't ask me with that innocent tone. you're anything but," getou grunts, taking you back by his side possessively. "come sit on me."

you follow like a lost puppy, getou taking his seat on the middle of the bed, one leg propped up as you crawl on your hands and knees to him, your face in his hands he caressed gently with his thumbs, kissing you and admiring you a while longer. satoru stands behind you, tilting his head to the side to capture a picture of the cute set on your body, his hands on your ass he brings back to rub the outline of his jean-clad cock against, groaning.

"fuck, you're really soft," his hand gropes your ass hard and it makes you whine, getou watching as you bite your lip and brush back against satoru who's dry humping you through the mesh thong you wore. "my dick is so fuckin' hard right now."

you swear your clits pulsating like a goddamn vibrator, moaning into getou's mouth after he kisses you, his eyes dark and pointed viciously in satoru's way, shoving his tongue in your mouth, barely paying you attention. he's watching satoru, making sure he takes care of you, doesn't hurt you. because if he did, he'd have to hurt him. satoru chuckles from the quiet obvious threat, molding your flesh in his rough palms. you're arching your back like a cat, panting in your boyfriend's mouth who's aware of your body sensitivity. the smallest touches leaving you feral. a cool breeze of air hits your soaked core as satoru pulls your panties to your knees, raising them so they're off fully, needing access to every region.

"fuck, that's a nice ass pussy," satoru grins, knitting his dark brows together, crystal blue eyes darting between getou and your weeping cunt. you yelp when two of his fingers brush over your clit, sliding it up to your core he taps a few times and hums. then he's bringing his fingers to his nose, liking the smell before he's sucking them off. "damn, this really all yours?"

getou rolls his eyes after satoru whistles, not waiting for him to say anything, which he doesn't, blocking him out anyways. it's all about you. he wants you and he's gonna stay focused on that. he's lowering to his knees on the ground, positioning your thighs so they're spread wider, barely preparing you before he's literally kissing at your cunt with tongue, like full on making out with it. you shudder instantly, mouth dropping and gripping at getou's thigh as satoru grunts and slurps up your juices, thrusting those same fingers into you. your eyes widen partially when his tongue trails up to your puckering hole, spitting, then kissing it up, bobbing his head up and down the entirety of you.

"ooo, my god. . ." you gasp, grinding back against his face, blindly tugging at the waistband of getou's jeans, getou studying you as your face turns in ecstasy, fumbling with your hands as you pull out his cock, whimpering as you spit into your small hand before wrapping it around to pump. getou clenches his jaw, placing his hand over yours to stoke it together, his bubblegum lips pouty as he kisses you hard, swallowing your moans.

"like fuckin' candy," satoru kisses your clit hard, lips wet before he's sucking on it hard, tongue moving everywhere, skidding over your thighs as he laps you up with a deep ‘fuck’, jaw moving side to side and his hand spanking your ass slow like he's drunk, the impact hard. it's a pattern, his spews of fuck become monotonous the more he eats at it.

fuck. spank, then moved his mouth. fuck. spank, then applies more pressure with his tongue. fuck. spanks you ten times harder, then growls. it was driving you mad, unable to stop shifting your ass.

"he's not gonna stop until you cum," getou says, now holding your throat in his hand, your face contorted as you whine.

"not once," satoru counters, getou looking over your shoulder with a brow raised, eyes trailing back to yours without disagreement.

"more than once."

"m'almost there," you cry, his mouth all too good, never reaching an orgasm this quickly.

"are you?" getou hums tauntingly, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. you nod, your breath hitching as he bites your lower lip and sucks, blood rushing. you jerk your hand faster, keeping it on the tip like he liked, getou folding easily, hips twitching.

"gonna give it to me?" satoru asks, never ceasing his assault, in love with the way your knees buckle.

"nnn, yea," you chew on your lips, already fucked out. not prepared for what they had in store for you next.

"yeah?" satoru mocks your tone, stuffing his fingers into you and moving to your desired pace. your vision goes static like an old television when you cum, falling forward to rest your cheek on your boyfriend's chest, both the men half stripping throughout your fixation. getou stops you from pulling at his dick, afraid he'll cum too quick. you have that affect on him.

satoru doesn't stop when you cum, he keeps going, more than once, he said. and he meant it. it's worse when getou pulls you up to suck on your neck, tugging at the hardened buds of your nipples , both men touching you at once was filthy, your head buzzing and your mouth nonstop with pornographic sonances. satoru takes his breath when he stands, licking you off his lips as if you were the best fucking dessert he's ever had. while you're left breathless, getou and satoru are pulling off the rest of their clothing, achingly hard they couldn't stand it any longer. you could read them well, especially getou, knowing when he's near done.

getou lays on his back and he pulls you on top of him, your messy face still so adorable. satoru grabs the bottle of lube and two condoms stashed in his drawer before coming back to the bed, brushing the white hair from his face and staring down at you as you turn to look behind yourself, teasing him by grinding your hips midair. satoru snickers, climbing on the bed and resting on his knees. he looks at getou.

"you go first."

your smile is lazy, hugging your man by his neck and cradling your face between it. getou holds out his hand, satoru passing him a condom, the gold packaging being torn with his teeth before he's tossing it aside and sliding it down his cock resting on his stomach.

"lift your hips," getou rasps, hands calloused on either side of your thighs, helping you up till he's sinking you down on it, stretching you good like he always does. you whimper by his ear, clenching your cunt around him once he's fully inside, swaying your ass, belly to belly as you grind and say his favorite word he liked to hear most of all from you; his name.

after satoru's secure, he spreads the lubricant over himself and then some on his fingers he uses to prep you. your cute little hole tensing when the heat from them grazes you, satoru telling you to take a deep breath and relax yourself before he's pressing against the unused entrance. you gasp when he managed to get them in, carefully thrusting past his knuckles. his fingers were as long as getou's. getou tries not to lose it, your pussy warming his cock with little to no movement. satoru continues to prep you for two more minutes, wanting to make sure he eases the discomfort just a bit.

"satoru," you whimper his name, giving him permission to take his turn.

it's a clear signal, and he doesn't waste time, towering over you and pinning down your lower back to arch you a little more. getou soothes you by caressing the sides of your legs, as well as smoothing them over your back. satoru aligns his reddened cockhead to your hole, kissing up your back as he gently pushes into you, inch by inch. the unknown stretch burns, getou turning his head to whisper comforting words to keep your mind off the pain, lifting his hips to fuck into you. the mixture of pain and pleasure has you clawing at his shoulders.

halfway in, satoru decides to bring you up, clutching your chin and getting his turn to taste your lips, sliding, slowly, deeper inside the longer his mouth moved with yours, getou observing you both.

"it's good? you're good?" satoru says in between breaths, hips so close to touching your ass.

"m'good. move, please."

it's enough to make both men move in sync, satoru biting at your neck with his face scrunched up, eyeing getou beneath you. the pain subsides, and all you feel are the tingles in the pit of your stomach, dragging out your moans as they both pounded into you, satoru finally getting deep like he wanted since you relaxed more.

"jesus, fuck . . . mmm," for some reason, the erotic expression on satoru's face makes getou blush, biting his lip as he watches the two of you lose yourselves. how you scratch at his shoulder and the elicit eye roll satoru does. getou never thought he'd feel like this, or like seeing you fuck another man so much.

"you look pretty as fuck taking both of us," getou grunts, smacking at your tits and you keen in shock. satoru must be getting to him now. you scream as the two men fuck you like they'd lost their sanity, gushing around getou's cock while satoru aggressively knocks his dick into you, both following each other's rhythms for you. your skin clashing, pouncing back on them.

"shit," getou whimpers, hips stuttering as he cums inside his condom, chest heaving erratically. you rush your hand over his hair, tugging and riding them still. satoru has his arm around your neck now, slamming his hips against your ass which makes you let go of getou, holding onto his forearm as your tongue lolls out and satoru switches positions.

you're lifted off getou, satoru tossing his condom off to slide into your sluice cunt, groaning and closing his eyes from the new feeling.

"cum inside me," it has getou stunned since you've never said that once, deathly afraid of the idea of pregnancy. maybe you gained a breeding kink overnight. he wonders what videos you researched prior to this that sparked this sudden fantasy to be dominated by two men, two roommates, two new best friends.

"was doing that anyways," he licks the shell of your ear with a malicious cackle. "bet you'd let me fuck you raw every day if it meant I'd get to fill you up."

"yess, baby," you weep, out of your mind entirely.

"baby?" satoru whistles, glaring at getou who only blinked. what's up with you? were you under his spell or something? "i like that. you tryna' make one with me?"

"get smacked," getou threatens.

satoru only grins, grabbing your chin and pressing his nose to your cheek, keeping his eyes on getou. "don't wanna be a daddy with me? it'd be fun. I'll push the stroller and you hold her hand so she doesn't trip with the other kid in her belly."

"cut it," getou seethes.

"you're no fun," satoru pouts, still fucking you back on his dick like it's nothing, your head spinning. his attentions back on you. "say it one more time for me."

"baby," you slur, swallowing the extra saliva built up in your mouth from drooling, giggling when he groans in approval.

"good fuckin' girl," satoru hisses, yanking you back hard, like some rag doll, your screams softening the longer he prolonged, balls slapping against your sticky clit and your tits bouncing so cutely in your babydoll set.

you slap your hands on getou's torso once you cum for your third time, tone drowning out by satoru's who growls and paints your tight walls white, your legs frantically twitching as you fall forward, getou swallowing, endlessly fascinated by you as he rubs you to cool you down.

"wanna watch it drip," satoru keens, raising your ass and holding the dip of your spine down, licking his lips as he watches the way his cum glides from you. "damn, i think it's my birthday, honestly."

you're spent, still shaky and barely having air left in your lungs. satoru leans over you, kisses your cheek with a loud 'muah!' before doing the same to getou, only he kisses him on the lips.

"don't kiss me, asshole!" getou splutters, palm over satoru's face as he shoved him away. you giggle weakly into your boyfriend's chest, reaching behind yourself to keep satoru pressed to your back for warmth, the three of you snuggled up comfortably.

“thank you babe,” you smile, elated.

“you’re welcome, baby,” they say in unison.

getou rolls his eyes, a petty grunt released. “she’s not talking to you.”

“s’okay, her pussy did,” satoru cackles, kissing your cheek with tongue to piss the black-haired man off even further. he remains silent. this time.

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quiet-out-there · 5 months

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summary: When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slight dubious consent, fingering, lots of praise, dom!Peeta??, reader under sex pollen

Notes: This is my first attempt at a shortfic about Peeta Mellark, as I have been quite obsessed with him lately This story is a short fic with little to no plot, so, enjoy the smut ;) For any weird grammar mistake, feel free to correct me for as inglish isn't my first lenguage!

Word count: 6.6k

Giff: @xiaolanhua

Finnick cursed out loud, grabbing the attention of some of the most important and exclusive people in Panem who were nearby. They began to chuckle and whisper among themselves in return, clearly enjoying the sudden outburst of District’s four beloved victor. Peeta, on the other hand, quickly realized something was wrong, politely ending the conversation with an all too eager sponsor who was in the midst of trying to convince him to go back to her room together. She was old, caked with so much makeup her features were almost unrecognizable. Staring at her for too long made Peeta feel uneasy, as if he were in a fever dream, where everything was washed in an eerie distortion, almost normal but not quite.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he said once he got to Finnick’s side, standing beside one of the absurdly food collapsed tables at one of the ballrooms corners. He was holding a glass filled with sweet smelling liquor, his hand so tightly wrapped around it his knuckles were turning white. Peeta was sure it was going to burst into pieces in just a matter of seconds, so he quickly reached for Finnick’s hand, surprised to find little to no resistance as he took the glass away and set it on the table. The motion seemed to snap Finnick out of whatever trance he had been in, blinking at Peeta as if he were just now assessing his presence there.

“What?” was all he could manage to say, his eyes returning their focus to something far away, the feather of a muscle twitching as he grounded his jaw.

“What's wrong?” Peeta pushed, following the man's gaze in an attempt to understand what he was seeing that was making him so mad. Finnick had a temper, Peeta knew that, but it was always tightly concealed in that calm and easy-going facade he portrayed, his armor against everything. It took quite an effort to make him lose his composure.

“(y/n)” He answered, voice made of steel. Peeta frowned, eyes desperately trying to find what was going on, his chest tightening at the mention of your name, “They dosed her drink with an aphrodisiac powder.”

Peeta’s whole body froze, his eyes snapping back to the man beside him.

“What do you mean aphrodisiac powder, what the hell even is that?”

But Peeta could already imagine what it meant, what they were doing it for. Anger rose in his blood like fire, pumping into his heart, beating so fast it was starting to make it hard for him to breathe -

“Finnick” He managed to get out, hand coming up to grab the man’s arm, turning him to face him.

“I recognized this man talking to Snow earlier” Finnick began, his eyes closing as one of his hands came to massage his temple, as if a piercing headache was making it hard for him to think “He is the one who arranges the customers for-,” he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Peeta's wide ones “ the special services from the victors the capitol sometimes provides”

His stomach churned in a way that threatened to make Peeta vomit every expensive item of food he had ingested tonight, right on the pristine marble floor. He knew exactly what Finnick was talking about. Haymitch had told him about this business Snow ran, a way for him to further control the victors, make them pay for whatever rule breaking he deemed was done on their game, threatening their family’s life as a cost of it. But (y/n) had won fair, she had outsmarted the players, not the capitol, she didn't deserve this, she-

“I have been watching this man all evening, analyzing his moves, trying to figure out who Snow had sold to him,” Finnick continued, interrupting Peeta’s running thoughts. “It was easy enough to discover, with the way he has been practically stalking (y/n) all night.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips “But something is different this time. He hasn't come up to talk to her and she is completely oblivious to him, as if she doesn't know what Snow has done, as if she hasn't been warned what would happen if she denies”

Her family, massacred. Peeta swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden.

“That’s when I noticed what he was doing” Finnick’s hands bawled into fists by his sides, his eyes returning to scan the room before returning to Peeta’s, “They are drugging her, filling her with aphrodisiac poison that will make her unable to think of anything more than sex. They are making her into a puppet so they can take advantage of her, avoiding the resistance, the threats, the compromise on her part.”

“That is sick” Peeta breathed out, feeling lightheaded and utterly disgusted.

“People here in the capitol are absolutely rotten” Finnick spat, “I have been a victim of that drug before. It is so potent, it makes it physically painful to deny sex, it forces the body to need it on a primal level, triggering an almost survival instinct.”

Peeta cringed at the thought of Finnick, barely a teen, being a subject to all this.

“We have to do something, we have to save her” Peeta rushed through whispered words, his eyes looking around them in search of anyone who could be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes” Finnick agreed, “But we must do it inconspicuously, or they could end up hurting her even more.”

“What is your plan?” Peeta’s breathing eased a little, his chest loosening at the reminder of Finnick’s clever mind.

“Once the effects of the drugs kick in, she will quickly excuse herself to the bathroom. There, I will intercept the man, distract him. Make a big scene if I must.” The ghost of a smirk pulled at Finnick’s lips at the thought, before it was quickly wiped away as he continued “You will find (y/n) and get her the hell out of here, but not to her room. They will be probably expecting her there” Peeta shuddered at the thought, nodding at Finnick.

“Where is she now?” Peeta inquired, his eyes returning to the crowd, unable to find the girl in question.

“Near Snow’s fountain, to the left side of the room. She is talking to a man with a neon green top hat.”

Peeta found you instantly then, the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowning any other sound. You looked so beautiful, he couldn't help to notice, with your hair pulled away from your face in an elegant updo, filled with colored jewels that caught and reflected every light on the ball room, like a beacon. Your dress was made of black jewels as well, hugging every hill and dip of your body in an exquisite way, a slit on the side of your hip revealing the tan skin of your right leg. And your smile, so bright as you laughed at some joke the man before you had uttered, it took his breath away- until he realized how your chest was moving rapidly, as if the air entering your lungs wasn't enough, at how your skin was covered in a sheen of sweet, some stray away hairs curling around the nape of your neck and around your face, and at the way your hands had begun to tremble, hiding the away by clasping them tightly behind your back.

“It is starting,” Finnick commented, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself to move. Peeta did the same, struggling to calm his fast beating heart.

You offered the man another smile, this one polite, apologetic. The man dipped his head and moved out of your way, allowing you to begin moving into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, towards the other side of the room, where the bathrooms were located. Finnick nodded at Peeta, signaling to start moving the same way as you. They got to there first, and Finnick leaned forward to whisper right on Peeta’s ear, in a gesture that seemed like a warm goodbye from a friend to the ignorant eye.

“I will go for the man, you grab (y/n) and leave right away, don't waste time on explanations until you are both alone and safe.”

Peeta nodded, clasping his back as reassurance. He could do this, he told himself, willing his body to calm down, to gather his anxious thoughts.

Before Finnick finally pulled away, he added in a tense, almost somber tone, so lowly his words almost got forgotten among the chattering crowd.

“Do what you must to help her, she’ll be glad it was you and not someone else.”

Peeta’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask what Finnick meant by that, he was already being swallowed by the crowd, disappearing among the vibrant colors, the moving bodies, the discordant music that made Peeta’s teeth greet in discomfort.

Peeta moved onto the side of the bathroom door, acting as if his shoelace had been untied and crouching down to fix it, avoiding anyone starting a conversation with him that could complicate his inconspicuous escape.

It only took a couple of minutes before he heard your voice,

“S-Sorry, excuse me please” You sounded breathless, words tight in your throat, as if the mere effort to get them out was painful.

Peeta got up then, instantly identifying you making your way out of the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom. He walked up to you just as you took the door handle in your shaky hand, grabbing your wrist in a secure grip before pulling you along with him, without stopping to say anything. You gasped in shock, stumbling slightly over your feet before you could manage to keep up with his fast pace. You pulled at his hand in an attempt to be let go, but he ignored you, mind only focused on one thing-

The exit door, only a couple of steps away

“Peeta!” you exclaimed as you finally recognized him, struggling to maintain a composure, smile wavering between a frown and a grimace of pain “What the fuck are you doing?” you whispered, feeling as though your vision was shaking, not being able to see people anymore, just shapes and colors merging together in a sickening spin-

You were going to throw up.

“I’m going to be sick” you pleaded, arm now falling limp on his firm grip, deciding to leave fate in his hands- unable to do anything to resist, and knowing deep down Peeta would never hurt you.

Peeta’s heart squeezed on his chest as he heard you, and he opened his mouth to explain -what? he did not know- anything to make you feel better, to help you understand what was going on,

But then a crushing sound vibrated across the room, making people gasp and scream in shock, their attention now focused on the other side of the room.

Finnick

Peeta let out a sigh of relief as he got to the entrance door, which was luckily open, not a peacekeeper in sight. He didn't waste a second to pull you out towards the main hall, where the elevator to the victor's rooms was.

“It will be alright (y/n), I promise” Peeta finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, as he continued his way with unbreakable determination, both of your steps resonating against the glass floor the only sound in the spacious room “just trust me, okay?”

You felt as if Peeta’s voice was coming from underwater, muffled and far away- But still managed to understand.

“Okay” You replied, unable to voice any other word running through your dizzy brain - Your heart, you realized, it was beating so fast you couldn't catch a breath, and your skin, it felt so uncomfortable, so tight against your body- you wanted to rip it out. And the heat, the fucking heat

Peeta’s hand freed your wrist as he pressed the elevator’s button in a frantic pace, his other coming up to grip your hip, pushing so you stood in front of him, blocking the view of your body with his.

You were so close now, bodies almost pressed together. His smell invaded you like the most intoxicating, addictive perfume you had ever sensed, tightening your chest in a silent hitch of breath - And his touch- so firm and strong, fingers pressing down on the overly sensitive flesh on your hip witch was barely covered in the thin material of your jeweled gown- it set flames through your veins

Peeta heard the rush of voices coming down the hall, right from where you had come, before he felt their quick heels clad steps coming closer. Whatever Finnick had done, it had set a commotion enough to make people begin to retreat to their chambers in a hurry.

His eyes snapped to the elevator, the bright gold number still stuck on the 7th floor, and he realized it wasn't going to come by quick enough - They were already nearing the corner, they were going to catch the both of you, they were going to take you away and hurt you-

He secured your hand in his before he began to pull you further down the hall, your feet struggling to find their footing but managing not to stumble over them as you followed him. There was only one door in the hall, right on the end of it, a black metal block painted in bright gold. Peeta didn't bother to knock on it as he grabbed the handle, twisting it at the same time he pushed the side of his body on it to open it- and to his surprise and utter relief- it did. He didn't waste a second to push you inside, head twisting back one last time to see down the hall, where he noticed a couple of people beginning to appear, their vibrant colors striking against the pristine white walls and gold floor details.

He closed the door behind him, leaving out the light from the hall, engulfing you both in complete darkness. He let out a long breath, his head dropping back against the door frame, a chuckle leaving his chest before he could stop it.

You tried to blink back the darkness, but your eyes were still struggling to adjust. Something was very wrong, you realized, as you couldn't seem to make the air from the space enter your lungs. You stepped back from the man in front of you in an attempt to gain some distance and ground yourself, but you felt the cool jab of metal meet your back- you twisted on the spot, freeing your hand from Peeta’s as you extended your arms in front of you. And you felt, to your utter horror, how on every side you were met with metal railings or the cool feeling of painted concrete walls.

The space was tiny. A closet, of some sorts, you figured with a leap of your heart.

“I can't” you gasped aloud, one hand coming up to clutch your chest, pulling at the absurd number of necklaces that had been wrapped around your neck- it felt as if you were choking “I can't breathe.”

Peeta’s hands were instantly extended in search of you, his eyes wide in an attempt to see something, but only being met with darkness.

“It is okay, hey, I’m here” He whispered, one of his hands brushing your shoulder. The contact made electricity run down your body, and you twisted in an attempt to get away from his touch, managing only to bump into the railing so hard, their contents began to fall onto the floor-

Peta cursed under his breath at the loud sound of stuff crashing against the glass floor, his heart drumming onto his chest as he felt the footsteps from outside alarmingly close.

“Hey, hey calm down” He tried again, his hand grabbing your shoulder this time. And you tried to twist away again, desperate to get away from the warmth, the heat of his body, his burning touch-

it was too much, too much

You pushed into the railing again making it crash against the wall in a loud bang.

“(y/n)” Peeta rushed, his voice tight on his chest in anxiousness. But you didn't hear him, wouldn't hear him, needing to get away, desperately trying to do so-

Peeta felt the voices outside begin to wonder what those noises down the hall were, their loud cackling dimming down as if to hear better. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before somebody came up to investigate,

“Calm down” He ordered, voice low, almost a murmur. You could feel it vibrating on your chest, “We have to stay quiet, or they will find us.”

You tried to reason with his words, to obey, to understand what the fuck was going on - but then a pang of pain shot down your belly, taking the air from your lungs in a rush of a breath, before settling in a tight coil of aching between your legs. It made a whine fall from your lips before you could stop it, eyes closing as you hugged your body tightly.

Peeta’s heart stopped when he felt nearing footsteps, arms shooting forward when he heard your loud whine of pain at the same time, determined now to make you quiet. One hand found your hip as the other your arm, and he didn't waste a second to twist your bodies, so you stood with your back pressed to his chest. One of his strong arms circled your waist, locking you into him in a grip so tight you couldn't move an inch, as his other hand came to your face, palm pressing onto your mouth to silence any noise.

And just like that, your senses cleared, they sharpened, they focused and circled on only one thing-

Him.

The way his warm body was pressed to yours, the feeling of his strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist, the way his chest pushed against you in every intake of breath, the feeling of his heart pounding so loud and fast against your back- and his god damn smell, so sweet and dark and intoxicating- it made the coil deep within your core tighten painfully, breath hitching on your throat.

Peeta strained his ear to hear whatever was going on outside, the footsteps stopping just inches away, its shadow casting beneath the door frame. But it was so hard to concentrate on anything else that the way for body felt pressed to his - so warm he thought you might be having a fever- and the way you were breathing so hard and fast, you were panting against his hand- but he could notice, he could see how much you were trying to do as he said, to stay still and be quiet, even if you were in so much discomfort

“That’s it, calm down” He whispered, lowering his head so his lips were pressed to your ear, making sure only you could hear him. “You are doing so good” he praised, the words warm against your skin.

The way he phrased those words was enough to make a shiver run through your spine and make your head spin with desire. You hadn't noticed the way you had begun to press further onto him, almost as if desperate to be closer, to feel him even further. And his hand, his fucking hand had begun to rub the side of your waist in a comforting way,

You were melting. But you wanted more, you needed more-

Peeta tried to ignore the way you had begun to move against him, how your breathing had changed to something deeper, how your mouth let slip little whines and moans against his hand. He knew it was the drug's effect, he knew you couldn't help it, he knew he had to maintain a clear head, to take care of you and make sure you stayed safe.

And then you felt it, as you ground your body against his, you felt something hard begin to press against your ass. It made something in you snap, a need so desperate and maddening, it made fire rush through your veins as if boiling from the inside out- it made your brain drunk and fuzzy with desire- and the pain, the excruciating coil tightening between your legs, it was too much, too much.

Peeta felt your hand suddenly grip his, moving his arm away from your hip. He felt almost in a daze, as if unable to stop you as you moved it down your body. His breath hitched in your ear as you pressed his hand right between your legs, where you needed him the most. The thin material of your jeweled gown was the only thing standing between his fingers and your pussy- he could feel how warm you were, and cursed aloud when he noticed also how wet.

“We can't” He whispered; voice slightly breaking as he felt you increase the pressure of his fingers “They have drugged you with an aphrodisiac. You are not thinking straight-”

A moan slipped through your lips, muffled by his hand still pressed against your mouth. Peeta's eyes strained on the doorframe, noticing the shadow gone. He almost sighed in relief, until he felt the loud chuckles coming from outside-

they were still there.

Your brain couldn't comprehend anything else but the need for him. A need that was becoming so strong, the pain was unbearable. You could feel tears swell in your eyes as you gasped, your other hand coming up to push away his own from your mouth.

“Please, Peeta, I can't take this anymore- I” you choked on a whine when you felt his other hand slip from away from your body “-I need you, please, just help me.”

You pleaded, head dropping back against his shoulder in utter defeat.

Peeta cursed again, eyes tightening shut as he searched for the will to contain himself, to find a way to reason with you, to make you understand how this was so wrong-

But then he remembered Finnick's words. ‘Do what you must to help her,’ what did he even mean? Was this the only way you could go through this? You would hate him for it, Peeta thought, taking advantage of you like this- but you were in pain, you were literally crying and shaking in his arms, he couldn't stand seeing you like this, it was breaking him-

“Please” you whined, your own hand coming between your legs to relieve some of the pressure there in a futile attempt- you felt absolutely nothing.

“Okay” he murmured against your ear, telling it more to himself than to you, making up his mind. “How can I help you, (y/n), just tell me how.”

You sigh in relief at his words, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Touch me” you whispered, breathless “Please.”

Peeta felt lightheaded with the way you were so desperate, so needy for him. In any other circumstance, he would have given away with the first please ever uttered from your beautiful lips- because you were always so composed, so strong, so unwavering- hearing you like this was making him almost as desperate for you as you were for him.

“Please what?” Peeta couldn't help to reply, his voice just as breathless as yours, beginning to move his arms, tentatively resting his hands on your hips.

You groaned in frustration, beginning to push yourself away from him so you could turn around to face him when you felt one of his strong hands spread across your abdomen, pushing you right back against him. He was so strong, you couldn't help but think, imagining his hands pushing and pulling other parts, handling you as if it were nothing-

“Please, Peeta” you begged.

Peeta melted at the sound of those tight words in your throat.

“So polite” he praised, finally moving one hand to the side of your hip where the slit of your gown began. His callous warm fingers met your bare skin there and you sighed in content “Such a good girl” he whispered, mouth pressing down just below your right earlobe, in that sensitive spot that felt to good it sent tingles down your body and made you moan out loud before you could stop it-

Peeta’s other hand instantly moved to cover your mouth once again, roughly pushing your head back against his shoulder.

“What was that?” A woman’s voice exclaimed from the hall outside, filled with delight “Sounds like someone’s having a good time!”

Peeta cursed on your ear, the words sounding even more coarse coming out of his mouth.

You whimpered, unable to take the pain between your legs any longer- your heart was beating so fast, it seemed as if you couldn't catch your breath, your skin so taut you thought it might snap over your bones, and the heat- you thought you might pass out

“Shh it’s okay” Peeta tried to calm you, his eyes glued to the shadows now outside of your door. Had they figured someone was inside here? “Be quiet doll, you can do it.”

You nodded your head in a haze, desperate to show him you would do anything he said.

Peeta knew you couldn't take it any longer, practically limp in his arms, trembling in his grip. He took in a shaky deep breath before he began to move the hand on your hip underneath the surprisingly thin material of your gown. Your skin was so smooth and soft, and so, so warm- Peeta had to take a minute to just caress between your hip and upper thigh, savoring the feeling of your tender flesh beneath his rough fingers - before he heard your impatient cry from within his hand covering your mouth. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the shadows beneath the door begin to move away, using the courage to finally dip his fingers between your thighs. His breath hitched when he noticed you didn't have anything under your gown, being met with your bare pussy right beneath his finger, hand freezing in place as the realization of what he was doing, and to whom, dawned on him.

He was about to fuck (y/n), districts four beloved 73rd hunger games victor.

“You are killing me” you mumbled against his palm, desperately pushing your hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure of his fingers where you needed him most. So, he dipped his hand further, his muscled arm tensing over your belly as he did, bringing you flushed against him. And his fingers, ever so slowly, began to part your folds, his eyes closing as his head dropped down to lean on your shoulders at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers, smoothing his entrance. You bit his hand in an attempt to quiet the moan bubbling on your chest, head pushing back against his shoulder in an attempt to get a grip on yourself.

“So good” he murmured, lips tightly pressed to your ear “So good, so quiet.”

You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to rub your wetness up and down, right over the bundle of nerves that send electric waves of pleasure down your body. One of your hands came down to grip his arm, pushing it down with further force- Peeta instantly knew what you wanted, what it meant- and he obliged, increasing the pressure and pace of his fingers.

The people outside began to cheer for something, the noise followed by clapping. Peeta didn't waste a second to remove his hand against your mouth, moving it down to your chin as he pushed your head further back, adjusting so his ear was right over your mouth-

“Let me hear you doll” He breathed, his fingers quickening their pace almost desperately so- feeling so good it made your toes curl and your thighs squeeze around his hand. And you moaned, so desperate and needy it would have embarrassed you if it weren't for the fact that that was exactly how you felt for him.

“Peeta” you choked out in a gasp right on his ear, and that was enough to make Peeta lose his mind, a low groan escaping from his own lips, the sound so deep and hoarse it vibrated on his chest.

You could feel his erection pressed on your backside, so hard you knew we wanted you just as much at the moment. And you wanted to feel him, God, it was all you could have ever wanted, so you started to move your hand to your back- until you felt his hand suddenly stop, making you freeze in place. You could hear his ragged breathing, feel his heart pounding against your back-

“Look at me,” He whispered, interrupting the sudden silence. You opened your eyes, surprised to notice how they had adjusted to the darkness, able to see the outlines of the door, the metal railing filled with cleaning supplies- you were in fact, in a closet. And then you looked up, finding his beautiful face before you.

He was so handsome; you had noticed that the first time you saw him. With his big, deep brown eyes and breathtaking smile. And now, with his messy blonde hair, his parted soft lips, his completely darkened eyes-

He looked delicious.

“You are absolutely beautiful” he murmured, the hand on your chin moving up to cup the side of your face. “(y/n)” he continued, a deep breath leaving his lips, fanning your own. You wanted to taste him so badly “You are not on your right mind, this is not what you want.”

You shook your head, exasperated.

“I want you so badly” you voiced in a shuddering breath “If you don't touch me right now, I think I might die.”

You used his stun position to free from his grasp, finally turning so you were face to face. He looked completely disheveled, his white tux discarded on the floor, and his matching shirt completely wrinkled, the first buttons torn and revealing a slit of tanned skin.

“I-” He began but you couldn't resist any longer, shutting him up with a kiss.

His hands were on you instantly, pulling at your hips to position you flush against him, to then wrap his arms around your waist to lock you in place. Your hand snaked to the back of his head, where you tangled them on his hair, slightly pulling it just to hear him groan again- it felt like fuel to the fire inside you. You used the moment to deepen the kiss, meeting his warm tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was desperate, hungry, lips moving feverishly against each other.

Peeta forgot about everything else, about the people on the other side of the door, about getting caught- he could only think about you, about feeling you against him, your lips on his, your tongue on his mouth- he wanted more. His hands began to roam your body, testing, feeling, kneading your soft flesh in a grip so strong you knew would certainly leave bruises. And then they were on your ass, squeezing so tight you moaned against his mouth- and he was lifting you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist-

“I need you” You panted against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. The coil in your lower stomach feeling even more unbearable, the pain was making you see white dots in the corner of your vision “I need you inside me.”

Peeta leaned his forehead to yours, attempting to regain control of himself, to think straight. He sat your body against the railing, separating enough so he could see your face, meet your eyes.

And he stared at you, almost in awe before he spoke again, dropping his head back as if to force himself to stop doing it any longer.

“Your eyes” he breathed out, “they shine so black when you are hot for me.”

You cupped his face between your warm hands, forcing him to face you as you once again begged-

“please”

Peeta wanted nothing more than to oblige - he would have lifted your gown and fucked you right there against the railings- but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't, not when you were under the effects of a drug that altered your senses, your reasoning.

So, he compromised. Not doing anything was torture to you, or so he told himself, moving so one of his arms could fit between both of your bodies while the other began to lift your gown and gather it just over your hips.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He panted, his ears once again registering the commotion outside. Seemed like they moved the party to the hall, he realized, glad that the noise had gone louder, hiding what was going on in the little storage closet down the corridor.

“Yes” you whimpered, unable to contain the tears swelling in your eyes due to the pain, and the excitement-

Such a wreck for him, Peeta thought, brain drunk in desire.

“You are the one killing me, (y/n)” he murmured, holding your gaze with eyes so intense you thought he might be looking through you.

And then his hand was between your legs again, slowly rubbing your wet folds, surprised at how they were more so than before. He quicken up the pace faster this time, taking his time in enjoying every sinful sound falling from your lips, your head falling back to lean against the railing- you gasped when you felt his other hand grip your chin, thumb and index finger pressing against your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes

“Look at me” he panted, and you thought you might cum just by the way he was looking at you with so much hunger-

And then you gasped in shock as without a warning two of his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb continuing to rub on your sensitive clit. Pleasure shocked through your body making you involuntary shake against the rails, the pressure on your lower abdomen coiling impossibly tighter-

“I'm gonna-” you whined, head leaning forward to try and find somewhere to lean on, but Peeta’s grip held you there on place, forcing you to face him.

“Say please” He breathed, lips hovering over yours, his fingers moving in and out of you with the perfect pressure, the perfect pace, and his thumb-

“Peeta” you whimpered.

He could feel how close you were, how your walls clenched around his fingers in the most delicious way- he thought he was close himself to climax, just by the way your face scrunched with pleasure, how your body became undone under his touch-

“Come on doll, ask nicely” He encouraged, needing to hear you beg, just one more time.

“Please” you managed moan.

And he was merciless about it, plunging his fingers into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit feverishly, curling his fingers and hitting just the perfect spot-

You become undone with his name on your lips, waves of pleasure erupting from deep within your tummy as the tight coil finally released, toes curling and body jerking. He slowed the pace of his fingers as he continued to ride you out of your orgasm, your shaking body finally collapsing into his, blind with gratification and exhaustion.

Peeta panted against your ear as he finally removed his fingers from inside you, proceeding to hold you tight against him before he lowered you from the railing back onto your feet- until he quickly realized you couldn't stand on your own, arms wrapping securely around your waist and across your back to hold you in place, your own coming up to snake around his neck in a solid embrace.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding loudly against your chest pressed to his- you on the other hand, were completely crashing, blood pressure dropping, white stars dancing in the back of your close eyelids.

“hmm” you hummed, struggling to remain conscious.

“I think they left” Peeta voiced his thoughts, frowning in concentration as he listened for any noise outside- but it was completely quiet, he soon realized.

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, brain completely fogged with satisfaction, body finally out of pain and completely relaxed on his arms, as if meant to be there all along.

“(y/n)” Peeta shook you, his tone finally above a whisper “Hey, I need you to stay here yeah? stay with me.”

You tried to nod but your head just fell limp against his shoulder-

He smelled so fucking good.

“Thank you?” He replied, amusement clear on his breathless words.

You hadn't realized you had voiced your thoughts out loud, a soft chuckle scaping your lips.

“You are completely out of it, aren't you” He sighed, leaning over you so he rested his chin on top of your head, attempting to calm himself down.

You frowned at the height difference, moving your feet, and realizing you were barefoot, heels completely lost somewhere in the tiny closet.

Once Peeta finally could catch his breath, heart in a slightly normal pace, he stepped closer to the door, your almost limp body secure in his strong arms. He pushed the side of his face flat against the cool metal, concentrating on identifying any sound that could indicate someone on the other side but-

Nothing. Silence.

“Okay” He murmured, nodding “Okay, we are going to come out, yes?”

You mumbled a reply, what? you didn't know, but it was enough to make Peeta nod again. You felt him loosen his grip on you making you react on clinging to him with all your strength, desperate to avoid the loss of contact.

“Hey, I’m here, I won't leave you” He assured you, hands pushing you by the hips to create some space between the two- and you were so completely weak, barely registering your body at all, that you couldn't avoid the separation.

You frowned, opening your mouth to try and object, when you were suddenly being lifted from the ground and up on his arms again, this time in bridal style, with one of his arms holding under your knees as the other secured around your back.

“Romantic” you gushed, chuckling again.

Peeta rolled his eyes, sheepish smile tugging at his lips, as he adjusted his body so his hand could twist the handle and open the door. He loosens a breath he didn't know had been holding as he registered the hall with quick assessing eyes, noticing it completely deserted.

You tried to blink at the sudden light, but it took just a couple of blinks before your eyes dropped closed again, as if the weight of them was impossible to overcome.

“Your room is not safe” He murmured, beginning to make his way to the elevator with you tightly held on to his arms “We will go to mine.”

You nodded, the pull of unconsciousness so strong you were sure it was only a matter of seconds before you were out- so you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms across his neck and positioning your face right at the nape of his neck, where his smell washed over you and his warmth seeped to your skin.

And just like that, you were out with a content smile plastered on your face.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark/reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta smut #peeta x reader #peeta my beloved #peeta mellark x you #thg #peeta x reader smut #the hunger games smut #peeta mellark/you #peeta mellark imagine #ao3

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nicromancytarot · 24 days

Text

HOW WILL YOU MEET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides how you will meet your future spouse, pick a pile to see what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

For you guys I am getting the feeling that you’re at some type of work convention, possibly an important business opportunity. There seems to be a theme of money and work for this pile, I’m getting heavily that this is something that you either didn’t want to go to, or we’re reluctant to attend.

This mindset could have something to do with you possibly being nervous about what this opportunity has in store for you. Some of you may be at some big gala type event trying to build your reputation so you can get more business, or even a promotion. I see someone who is really on the edge of their seat with nerves, they keep topping up their wine glass. I can’t help but notice the outfit that they are wearing, for me I’m seeing a feminine figure, they’re wearing a long gold sparkly dress, apologising for almost knocking over a glass of wine as they pour themself another, this person does seem very anxious lmao.

I think you will be introduced to your future spouse through either a friend, or some older male figure that you work with. For a few of you, you will be really not wanting to meet anyone new during this time, you’ll be stuffing your mouth full of all these delicacies like pastries in order to not have to speak to anyone.

It’s at this point that this masculine comes over to retrieve you, for some it may be your boss, or manager, for others this will be one of your closest friends.

Your future spouse will take control of the conversation when the masculine leaves, they will be quick to bring you into an engaging discussion over possibly something to do with your job. You’ll be very confused as to why you don’t feel uncomfortable around this stranger, some of you may even notice that this is your future spouse since the spark will be there in an instant.

A select amount of you will be asked for your number, or email, something so they can contact you for “business”, this form of contact will absolutely not be used for business lmao.

PILE 2

You guys are really going through the ringer around the time that you meet your future spouse, for some of you, you maybe even be around the age of thirty at this time, the only reason I say this is because it could be your Saturn return which is influencing all this hardship. However, a lot of you will be pretty young, as I’m seeing someone going out to a club/party to go get absurdly drunk.

A lot of you will be going through a really hard breakup during this era of your life, this could be with a partner that you were will for a long while, as I’m getting the feeling that you though this was your forever person. I don’t think you’ve really given yourself much time to heal from this partnership before you go out clubbing to detach from the feeling of aloneness.

For a very select few of you, you may have been cheated on by your partner, and find out only a few days prior to this meet.

You’re going out to feel free and completely out of control of whatever is going on around you, some of your friends might even try to encourage you to leave before something happens, as I do see you trying to cope with your sadness by drinking yourself into oblivion.

A small amount of you will meet your future spouse, eye them up and then take them to the back or to your place, possibly even their place to have some intimate time. So yes, this could start of as a hookup.

Others of you are going to embarrass the hell out of yourselves, I’m seeing some tripping over and falling onto the lap of the other, in another scenario there’s someone falling down some stairs and some other person catching her just before she plummets.

This person may even stay with you to help you sober up lmao, you may confide in this person a little too much and cry to them about your failed relationship while in a drunken state. They could even hold your hair back while you’re busy throwing up #cute.

I’m seeing that they may ask for yours or your friends number so they can check on you later that night, or in the morning.

PILE 3

You guys are also going through something during this time, for some of you it’s a failed situationship which I think you were committed to for a long time, this seems to have come out of the blue, a completely unexpected betrayal.

Whoever the person you were dealing with is, they are the type to say that “labels are pointless”

Others of you were under the impression that you were in a relationship, but instead you were actually in a situationship and your person slept with or got with another person, this caused an uproar and you were quick to make the decision to leave.

For a very, very small amount of you, you possibly got up and left off to another part of the world, wanting to be completely disconnected from this person and their terrible sense of loyalty.

The rest of you are also travelling or on vacation in another country/state etc (depending on where you are stationed) I see that you may go into a store or to a market place and have to ask the clerk/seller for the price of the piece, or possibly you accidentally ask a random person, thinking that they are a worker.

Whichever way this goes, that is your future spouse. They will do their best to help you, if you mistook them for a worker, they will be sure to laugh it off.

I’m seeing someone that you just instantly click with, they may not be your ideal type, but the two of you just make so much sense together.

This person will either say something about your beauty, compliment your style or even the item in your hand, this will then turn into a long winded conversation about whatever it is they have brought up, some of you may give your number, others of you will leave and come back to the store/market place another day while on your trip and meet with this persons again.

Bonus: they have a gorgeous smile.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

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somejazzinthemorning · 16 days

Text

snapshot.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] - Word Count: 1K

you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.

(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼

The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.

You sigh as you open your eyes.

The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.

Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.

And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.

So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.

Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,

“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.

“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”

He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”

Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.

Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”

“You want a photo of my boobs?”

“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.

Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.

“The hair,” he directs.

This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.

When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.

You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.

“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”

You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.

His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.

"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."

The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.

And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.

His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.

His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.

"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.

You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.

"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."

Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.

"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.

"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.

Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.

Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.

You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.

But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.

You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.

You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.

"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, come here."

"Not yet."

"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."

You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.

Climax is imminent.

You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.

When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.

"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”

“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”

As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.

As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.

“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”

Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible. Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶

#Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz Jr #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz x You #Carlos Sainz Smut #Carlos Sainz Fanfic #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Formula 1 x Reader #Formula 1 x You #F1 x Reader #F1 x You #F1 Imagine #F1 One Shot #Driver x Reader #F1 Driver x Reader #Driver x You #F1 Driver x You #F1 Fanfic #FanF1ction

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podcastenthusiast · 8 months

Text

Ohhh I just had a terrible thought.

Warning for some unhealthy coping mechanisms (Astarion tries to use sex to dissociate on purpose)

Those first fragile hours following Cazador's death are quiet as the grave. Numb. She leads you back to the inn where the others grin with pride and then exchange worried glances they think you don't see.

There is a bath. Warm water and blood washed away. Tentative simple questions--may she touch your hair? Your hands? Your back? The scars ache with residual magic and memory. Her touch is so gentle you want to scream.

Now one of her spare shirts swallows you, her arms enfolding your body as you shake like a thing about to come apart at the seams. The bed is so comfortable it feels wrong. You want to sink into it, into her, disappear forever within yourself to a distant place of no feeling, no pain. And if there's one thing you know, it is that. His voice echoes across your mind unbidden: I made you to be consumed.

Instinct grips you and like a corpse reanimated you surge into motion, reaching for her in desperate need. You kiss her skin, trailing down, teeth grazing her neck. A hand caresses her thigh. You can do this all by muscle memory alone.

"Astarion, wh--what are you doing?"

"Please," you beg, unsteady fingers fumbling with your clothes. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure? This is really what you want?"

You nod. You are not sure, not at all. But this is what you need. To be used. Not to be here. Not to be anyone, anymore, just for a little while.

"I don't know if it's a good idea tonight. You're... You need rest, time to process--"

"I need it to stop!"

Silence. Her hand touches yours. Not enticing or lustful, but comforting. You've ruined it, haven't you.

"Need what to stop?" she asks.

"Everything. It's all too much, and I need to...go away, so to speak, which would be most easily achieved by..."

"...having sex with me." She doesn't sound angry, disappointed, or even terribly sad. She is being strong for you. "You never seemed fully present, before."

"Yes and now you know why. It's not your fault, it's never been you. But you can help me! You love helping people."

This time she pulls you closer and for a moment you think you've persuaded her, but she only holds you against her chest. You feel safe, which is unfamiliar. She refuses to see your body purely as an instrument for pleasure. Part of you resents her for it tonight. If only she didn't know you so well.

"I said I'd never let anyone hurt you. That includes me. And yourself," she says. "If you still want sex later, we can talk about it then. I won't become another night you regret."

You do lose time anyway. Drifting back to yourself, you find her bare shoulder wet with tears and it takes an absurdly long time to realize you have been crying. You don't understand. You are finally free of him, truly free. You should be happy.

You try to speak but the words catch on a sob. Your chest feels like it's cracking open.

"Shh, shh," she says. "I've got you, love."

And you believe her.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion romance #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate iii

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7077070707 · 9 months

Text

"you're cute."

feat — gojo satoru

content & warnings — fluff, established relationship.

a/n — gojo is my baby tbh.

“you’re cute.” you randomly announce to your white haired boyfriend. you were both doing your own things, with you reading a book and satoru absently scrolling on his phone.

he momentarily looks up at you, a lazy smirk appearing on his face, “mmh, what else have you noticed about me?” he puts his phone down and adjusts himself on the couch, stretching over you like an elongated cat and rests his head on your lap, big blue eyes staring into your soul.

“oh? alright, let me think…” putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated manner and staring at nothing in particular. “hmm, your scary blue eyes?” glancing back down at him, you place your hand over both of his eyes, blocking the pathway between them and your soul.

“hey! you were supposed to say that i was sexy or something. or compliment my beautiful azure eyes!” satoru places his palm over your hand and begins playing with your fingers, yet, not removing them from his face.

you stifle a laugh, “azure? i didn’t know you felt so passionate about the specific colour of your eyes. also, i’d argue that they’re more of a sky blue. not azure...” you say, rolling your eyes, your demeanour becoming increasingly more exaggerated.

satoru peeks through the crevices of your fingers and you both make eye contact, “whatever you say, princess. i’m always gonna be 100% on your side, so i totally agree with you! also, sky blue sounds more.. mystical. so i’ll take that.”

you inwardly gush over the pet name, like a lovestruck teenager. yet, you still had to list the facts. “oh my god, not at all. azure is so much cooler! are you even hearing yourself right now?”

an impulsive thought takes over him, and he grabs your hand and decides to just lick it. he hears you yelp, but still replies, “hey, hold on! you just said that sky blue...” he trails off, catching your eye, which ultimately distracts him. instead, he sticks his tongue out as a feeble attempt of retaliation to your comment.

“very mature, ‘toru. very mature.” as you take your hand back (but not without pinching his cheeks) and begin to stroke his ivory locks, weaving little braids in his absurdly soft hair. you often find yourself questioning how his hair results are better than yours, despite the fact that you had the misfortune of finding a '6 in 1' men's hair wash in his bathroom (it consisted of: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothpaste, petrol, and face wash). you inquired about this terrible discovery – since he’s absolutely stacked, and could easily afford the best quality products – and he claims that it saves time. you make a mental note to get him to invest in better products, or just offer him yours.

he suddenly gets up, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you raise an eyebrow at him. satoru grins at you and latches his hands onto your waist.

before you know it, you're choking with laughter – pleading for him to stop tickling you. “ahaHA! s-satoru… stop! s-stop it! ehehe–” you beg, in between breaths of laughter. as a form of defence, you start tickling him as well and you both end up in a heap of giggles, his heavy body collapsing on top of you.

red faced and out of breath, you manage to mumble from beneath him, “oomf, ‘toru, you’re crushing me!”

affectionately, “hah, serves you right. you little–” he cuts off with a yelp as you bite him on the shoulder. “owie!”

“you’re the one who started it ‘toru!” now, just nibbling on his shoulder, not actually hurting him.

he shrugs and after a long moment of silence... “you’re cute.” your boyfriend informs you. you found him pulling back to simply stare at your face, revelling in your beauty and the vulnerable position you were in. he felt flattered from the fact that you trusted him enough to be in your most vulnerable states around him, and he absolutely felt the same towards you as well.

however, you don’t take a second to respond, “tell me something i dont know!” sticking your tongue out.

he deadpans at you and you can’t help but giggle, “now you know how i feel, babycakes.”

“ohoho, babycakes?” now placing hundreds of little kisses across the span of your flushed face, “but also, giving me the taste of my own medicine, huh? well, since i’m such a nice, honourable, extravagant boyfriend, i’ll gladly list many things, princess!”

“you’re the princess here ‘toru…” you murmur, still giggling from the ecstasy you feel whenever you're in the presence of your loving boyfriend.

you wouldn't trade this for anything in the world, and neither would he.

#gosh i love my pookie bear #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fluff #fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x you

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

if you were a WAITING ROOM...

-;, things the blue lock boys do when they're crushing ! > based off of the song WAITING ROOM by phoebe bridgers

"IF YOU WERE A TEACHER, I WOULD FAIL YOUR CLASS // TAKE IT OVER AND OVER 'TIL YOU NOTICED ME."

he's not sure why he's doing this. he understands the subject perfectly, maybe even on an advanced level- but he's letting his grades fall.

it's bad, the way he stops turning in work. it's irresponsible, how he starts bubbling in answers incorrectly on purpose. but it's so worth it, with how you begin leaning over his shoulder to double check his answers.

he can't get enough of you, and how you smile sympathetically when he shows you his poor scores on tests, and how you offer to help him after school in the library. and maybe he's crazy for this- he's risking his extracurriculars, his grade point average, his whole education just so you could tutor him. but strangely enough, he can't really find it in himself to care.

he loves how you explain with your hands, how you get so excited when he finally 'grasps' a concept- he loves it all. he thinks he'll risk the summer schooling if it means he gets to see you more often.

; REO, karasu, yukimiya, isagi

"IF YOU WERE A WAITING ROOM, I WOULD NEVER SEE A DOCTOR // I WOULD SIT THERE WITH MY FIRST AID KIT AND BLEED."

he knows he's better than this. he knows he shouldn't be here in the first place. but somehow, he finds himself in your office for the 3rd time that week.

"you need to be more careful," you chide, as you dress the bloodied cut on his ankle. "how does this even happen?"

"not sure," is his reply. he's bashful, unusually so, and he can't meet your eye. your fingers graze his skin and a shiver passes through him.

you're the nurse's apprentice, and coincidentally the prettiest person he's ever seen. he's basically obsessed, infatuated, absurdly so. and he's not the brightest so all he can really do is keep on coming back in the only way he knows how.

you click your tongue and he wonders how your hands would feel in his. "i'm not a huge fan of how you're a regular here, now."

"i thought you'd be happy to see me!"

"i'd be happier under different circumstances."

maybe one day, he'll have the courage to ask you out. but for now? he'll settle for the hospital bed.

; nagi, NANASE, bachira (but... more lively ig), shidou (but more h*rny LMFAO)

"I WANNA BE THE POWER BALLAD THAT LIFTS YOU UP AND HOLDS YOU DOWN."

the party is loud despite the late hour. distantly, he hears one of his friends chatting to him about some cute girls or the food or something he doesn't really care about.

all he can think of at this moment is you. you look unreal in the colorful lighting, your skin painted green and gold beneath the plug-in strobe lights. your smile is nothing short of radiant, and he catches himself fixed on your shiny, painted lips. he wonders if the color you're wearing tastes as good as it looks.

he's not usually the shy type, especially not when it comes to strangers- but the way you glow in the artificial lights makes him breathless.

you don't even know he's there, focused on whatever your friend is telling you. he watches as you cover your mouth and laugh, bumping into their shoulder playfully.

he sighs and downs his drink, preparing to speak to you. he thinks he'll need all the courage he can get. talking to an angel is no easy feat.

; kaiser, oliver, SAE

"I WANNA BE THE BROKEN LOVE SONG THAT FEEDS YOUR MISERY."

his spotify account is the only app open on his laptop. a quiet hum is emitting from it. the song is another one of those dreary, dismal love songs- a genre he's found himself listening to a lot more often as of late.

he pulls up the lyrics to the song and is hit with a swarm of thoughts of you- the lyrics practically speak your name and breathe your image, and something that must be longing is all he can feel.

it's 2 in the morning, and he's alone in his bedroom, and he wishes he was with you instead, because there's no way around it, he's absolutely, positively in love. every song, every sound, conjures the thoughts of you. he can't escape it, he's stuck, and he can't find it in himself to hate it.

but he could never tell you- no, he couldn't risk that. and so he sits on the floor, propped up against his bed, making you another playlist as if he'll ever send it to you.

maybe one day you'll catch on to his hopeful stares, and maybe one day you'll notice that he makes a new playlist of solely love songs whenever you hang out.

but for now, he'll keep on watching. he hums along to the song playing and adds it to the still-growing playlist.

; ISAGI, otoya, hiori

"I WANNA MAKE YOU DRIVE ALL NIGHT // JUST BECAUSE I SAID 'MAYBE YOU SHOULD COME OVER.'"

what time was it again? why was he here? god, he's stupid for this. he knows he shouldn't be here, right now, behind the wheel of his car at 1 in the morning, but he is.

he's got somewhere to be in the morning. he has things to do the following afternoon. he should be asleep, in bed, at home- but he's not, and he can't- not when you called.

5 minutes ago, he received a text from you asking if he was awake and doing anything. for the record, he was just about to head to bed, and in the middle of changing clothes, so he was very much in the middle of something.

but then you'd asked if he could come over, and he knows he could never say no to you.

so here he was, driving on the empty streets towards your apartment on the other side of town. he's stupid, he's delusional, and he's so head-over-heels in love that none of it really matters.

it might be a long drive but he can already see it- your face buried in his chest, his lips on your temple, the off-white color of your bedsheets- and suddenly, he thinks it'll all be worth it.

; kunigami, RIN, karasu, reo

"WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE HARD AS MY POOR PARENT'S TEENAGED DAUGHTER."

he hasn't seen you in what, 5 years? 4? not since you were both teenagers with remnants of fat clinging to your cheeks, hot-faced and immature.

then, you'd called him your yours and he'd called you his. it was a typical teenaged relationship, the 99% that wasn't meant to last. at least, not the first time.

because he sees you now, for the first time in what feels like centuries, and he feels like he can breathe again. the neighborhood party is hot and busy but you look lighter than air, just as beautiful as you did the day you'd kissed him in your car and then wished him good luck and goodbye for the last time.

he'd been stupid, then. but he could see it now.

the way you laughed as you greeted his mother with a hug, the way you grinned and knelt down to talk with the new children of the neighborhood the both of you had grown up in- he could see so clearly the love that lingered in your little actions.

and then you looked at him. your eyes grew wide, before you smiled like you used to, and he could practically feel the unbridled affection seeping into his skin.

you were love, he thinks, and he'd let you go.

truly, what a fool he'd been to let you slip through his fingers all those years ago. but now, you're walking towards him, getting closer and more real with every passing second- and he's determined to not make the same mistakes this time.

; chigiri, bachira (hear me out), SAE, oliver

"she'd be the best you ever had, if you let her."

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muddyorbsblr · 9 months

Text

save my room for last

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: the morning after 'a sizing mishap', hours before 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce'

Summary: One of the duties you're assigned for Soccer Aid Training Week is to run wakeup calls for a handful of players. Today you and your fellow staff members draw names for who you have to wake up.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ | smut-ish times [minors & pearl-clutchers, don't even try me i am not the one]; one (1) cuss word

Things to be aware of: cuddly clingy and overall menace bf Tom; cozy steamy times 🥴😮‍💨

The high-pitched scandalizing notes of your alarm pierced the quiet of your hotel room, effectively steamrolling your peaceful slumber in your boyfriend's arms.

"Too early," Tom grumbled, holding your naked body tighter against him. "Sun hasn't even begun to peek through." You fought the urge to snuggle further into his side and burrow your face into the crook of his neck as large hands freely roamed your back.

"I gotta go," you groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and trying to roll out of his hold, only making him let out a whiny groan and wrap his fingers around your thigh to pull you back to him. "Sweetie if I'm late I get whoever's left in the bowl for the wakeup calls." You had to bite your lip to hold back any reaction you had to his hand now lazily kneading at the back of your upper thigh, fingers traveling dangerously close to the part of you that was already most definitely awake and beginning to ache for him. Again.

"Not yet," he mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead, tracing the features of your face lazily in sloppy kisses. "Just a few more minutes, goddess."

Dammit, when he got all whiny and needy like this, combined with the gravel of his morning voice, it was damn near impossible to deny him anything. You'd be downright hilarious to even try. And yet here you were, doing exactly that.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie, but I gotta go," you mumbled, letting out a few giggles that were muffled when he pressed his lips to yours, already pulling you tighter against him and sighing out in contentment as he did so. "I wanna at least have a chance of drawing your name from the bowls."

"Hmmm…you as a wakeup call," he pondered, the tips of his fingers running lightly up and down your side. "But I already have that luxury. That pleasure. Why give that up now for the possibility of having it again later?" He tightened his hand around your thigh and pulled you on top of him, making you brace your hands on his chest. "Why don't we just enjoy the early morning…" he trailed off, running his hands up the side of your body and down to your hips. "Just like this?"

You let out a groan, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his cheek before making a motion to get up and out of the bed. "Because if we do this it could very well be my first and last time on the committee, which means that if you get called back next year, chances are I won't be working the event with you."

Stepping away from the bed, you held back a giggle from the sight of his absurdly long arm reach out for you before flopping down the side of the bed, fingertips barely grazing the floor. You had to turn around to focus on getting your clothes back on, seeing as the sight of his naked form stretching in bed with the sheets so haphazardly draped over him and barely covering him from the hips down served as quite the distraction.

Add to that the way that the sheets traveled down when he stretched, putting on a sluttish display of the well-defined Adonis belt that framed the smattering of hair from his belly button leading down a path you were all too familiar with. If you didn't look away now you would find yourself back in bed and taking him up on his offer, position in the committee and wakeup call assignments be damned.

Unfortunately you knew that you needed to be there when they drew names. You prided yourself in being fairly decent in reading people, and you saw how the other members of the committee eyed Tom. They would be there before the names were even in the bowl trying some way to rig the system and get his name on the off chance that maybe they would catch even a fraction of the glimpse of the view you'd had just seconds ago. The worst part was that you couldn't even blame them.

The only thing you could really do was make sure you had an equal chance of drawing his name, too.

You opted not to bother with your bra and underwear, seeing as you would end up showering when you got to the room that you were designated to share with two other members, Lilly and Simone, anyway. "Go back to sleep," you whispered into the relative darkness. "Whoever ends up drawing your name, just make sure you're fully ready because I don't trust them not to have a camera on them just to snap a picture."

"Will you do something for me, sweetheart?" he mumbled, seeing the silhouette of his hand raising as if reaching for yours in the dark. You put your hand in his once you'd slipped your shirt on, letting out a little squeal when he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Save me for last if you draw my name. I'll barely see you between my practice and whatever gets assigned to you for the day. If I get even a few minutes having you all to myself I want to savor it until the last possible second."

"I promise," you said with a giggle, easing your hand out of his and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you headed out the door.

You tried your best to make as little sound as possible when you stepped through the door of your assigned room, not wanting to wake your roommates so rudely considering the ungodly hour. Of course, there was only so much you could do with the hinges of the door closer all but sounding trumpets at your return.

"Hmph…" Lilly groaned into the darkness. "There's no way it's already time for the briefing."

"Calm down, it's just me. We have half an hour, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?" Simone queried softly. "Bloody hell where'd you sneak off to? When you didn't come in last night we thought you fell asleep in the lobby prepping the media passes. Had half a mind to go out there and retrieve you so you could actually sleep on a bed."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll have you know that I didn't pass out in the lobby, or a conference hall, or anywhere of the sort. My boyfriend's working the event, too. I spent the night with him." That announcement seemed to perk them both up considerably, both women sitting up from the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower and then we can all head over to the briefing together and see whose names we end up drawing."

"Please let me get Beck," Lilly whined. "My sister will be totally stoked and maybe I can even get him to greet her in a video or something." She was practically bouncing on her bed from excitement now. "Who do you two wanna get?"

"I don't much care who I get," you bluffed, blindly choosing an outfit from your suitcase. "What about you, Simone?"

"Asa," she answered without hesitation. "Absolutely adorable, that one." She then let out a stream of giggles. "I'll tell you who a handful of women would absolutely slaughter each other to draw, though. Heard them last night talking about how they were tempted to rig the bowls somehow just so things go their way and maybe they could get a glimpse of the famous bulge that Marvel needed to shell out some extra bucks for to buff out with CGI."

"Rig the bowls?" you huffed. "What're they gonna do, have Hiddleston's name printed in special textured paper so they can feel which one to pick out?"

"Upper level conspiracy material right there," Lilly joked. "I'd bet they'd try and trade with whoever ends up drawing him. Gotta admit, though. I wouldn't mind getting his name."

"Same," you and Simone murmured.

Twenty minutes later and the three of you stood among the other staff members in the briefing room, four bowls filled with paper strips lined up on a table in front of you, and the head of committee, Johanna, standing on the other side of the table with a clipboard in hand.

"Right then. Each of you step up, draw one name from each bowl, and hold on to them until everyone's drawn four names each, two from Team England, and two from Team World. Then and only then will you all take turns sharing the names you've drawn. No swapping." She looked at the members closest to the door, her gaze landing on you. "Y/L/N. You're up first."

Your heart was pounding in every part of your body the entire way through, hoping beyond hope that one of the scraps of paper that now laid in your hand held Tom's name. You watched as the other staff members approached the table one by one, some of them doing the sign of the cross before reaching their hand in, others outright expressing how they wished they'd drawn your boyfriend's name once the papers were in their hands. All the while you did your best to feign indifference, fighting against your body's knee jerk reactions of tensing your neck or glaring at them as if you were imagining what they'd look like if their hair suddenly caught fire.

Once everyone had four scraps of paper each, Johanna randomly called out your names, instructing you to share what was written on your respective papers. With each disappointed announcement came more blatantly optimistic expressions from the remaining members; Lilly proudly announced that she drew the TikTok influencer Beck, and Simone beamed as she read out the name "Butterfield".

You took a deep breath before opening the papers when your name was called, struggling to not show the relief that washed over you as you read out the names in your hand. "Bolt…Claflin…Scott…Hiddleston."

"Y/N name your price," one of the more outspoken members from earlier, Brynne, called out. "Come on, you'd still have--"

"Rules are rules, Brynne. You heard me earlier," Johanna's voice echoed through the room. "No swapping. You know your assignments. Meet back here at oh-eight-hundred to receive your designations for the rest of the day."

Passing through the wakeup call runs of the players from the World Team went off without a hitch, consisting purely of knocking on their doors, announcing your presence, and they were out within five minutes and off to the practice field. There was a tiny bit of an awkward interaction with Sam Claflin pointing at your neck and asking if you were alright because it looked "concerningly red", even wondering if it was a rash.

"Thanks for the concern, but I promise everything's fine," you answered him, not-so-casually moving your hair about so that it fell down in front of your shoulders and covered the area in question. "It's not a rash."

That got quite the reaction from him, causing fairly taller man to break out in chuckles and lightly shake a pointed finger in your direction. "You're quite the character. I hope whoever gave you that 'not a rash' appreciates that."

"I think he does," you quipped. "I mean we've been at this seven years and he doesn't seem bored yet so looks like I might be doing something right," you topped off with a shrug, heading to Jill Scott's room next. "Good luck out there."

"Lovely meeting you, Y/L/N," he said with a wave before heading off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later you were knocking at the door to Jill's room, a ridiculous excitement slowly building inside of you and making you rock back and forth where you stood thinking about the next and final stop on your list before you had to return to the briefing room.

"Who is it?" you heard her call out from inside the room.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you said for the third time this morning. "Morning wakeup call."

"I'll be right out." A few moments later her door swung open, the woman greeting you with a warm smile. "Hey…Y/L/N, at the risk of sounding presumptuous or giving you cause of concern I have to ask you something."

Her premise took you aback, making you walk a little straighter and touch the ends of your hair, making sure that your neck was still considerably covered. "Pretty sure that just brought my blood pressure up a few points, but go ahead," you prompted her, trying to make light of the concern you were already feeling.

"It's just I noticed something whenever you passed by the field yesterday afternoon and--Ah screw it, best to just bite the bullet. You and Hiddleston…are you two an item?"

The question had your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. "Hmm? What uhh…what made you think that?"

"Well, if you two aren't a thing, I highly recommend letting the lad down easy because he looks at you like those videos of pets when they see their owners come home. Wide dopey eyes and like his heart wants to burst out of his stupidly wee jersey. That is the most irretrievably in love man I've ever seen with my own two eyes."

You didn't even bother to fight back the smile that stretched across your face. "We uhh…we are. I won't be letting anyone down easy today because honestly I'm so in love with the man it's borderline painful," you confirmed to her with a little shrug. "I may also be the one responsible for that tiny jersey currently fighting for its life. And the shorts. We're just trying to keep things a bit…less public, you know?"

She clapped her hands together loudly, suddenly looking victorious. "I knew it! For the record, you two make a lovely couple. His face lights up whenever he'd steal a glance your way yesterday. And when the other ladies from the committee try to chat him up, it's like he barely even registers that they're paying him any attention. You caught a rare one."

Her testimony on how he behaved when you weren't around had your heart swelling. If there was one thing that was eating away at you, it was the insecurity you felt knowing exactly who you were with and how much more objectively attractive those women that practically draped themselves over him were. And the fear always lingered in the back of your mind that one day he'd wake up and realize exactly that.

"I know," you choked out. "I really lucked out with him."

She pointed down the hall, starting to make her way to the elevator. "Am I last on your list or you have to make a few more stops?"

Your smile grew even wider, basically giving the answer away already. "No uhh…there's one more. Saving him for last."

A deviously amused toothy grin stretched across her face. "Ah, I see I see. Well I won't keep you. I'm sure you're excited to see him again."

You made your way back to Tom's room as fast as you could short of breaking out into a jog, practically power-walking down the halls until you rounded the final corner to the hallway where he'd carried you in his arms just the night before. Nearly even began to skip on your way there until you saw the small group of people that were waiting just a few doors away from his, the one closest to your destination being Brynne.

"Uhh…are you all waiting for your assigned players to get out or…?" you trailed off, already straightening your stance, deepening your voice, and taking on a posture that you only really dished out once in a blue moon. In private. With Tom.

Everyone but Brynne stepped away from their relaxed positions against the wall and walked back toward the elevator. You eyed the audacious, slightly taller auburn-haired woman expectantly. "Come on, Y/N. Be a team player here. Every time I've worked an event that involved him I don't even get the chance to be anywhere near him, I'm asking nicely please trade with me. I'll give you Payne--"

"Ew," you cut cut her off, not backing down from your 'boss lady-slash-domme' tone. "Shouldn't have led with that, Brynne. I mean I kinda feel for you that you got Mister more than big enough for you luv, when in fact I've been to children's parties that served vienna sausages bigger than what the guy's packing--"

"Exactly!" she empathized, letting out a chuckle and reaching for your hand as if to form a bond between you two. You knew better, though, and moved it just out of her arm's reach, knowing full well that the motion was meant to reach for the keycard you were suddenly holding tighter in your fist. "So please? Be a pal and let me shoot my shot?"

You did your best to keep your jaw unclenched, fighting every urge you had to make a show of this particular wakeup call and reveal the very blatant reason why you would not be helping her 'shoot her shot'. "You know, Brynne, I really wish I could help you but…it's my first year here and I really don't wanna get on Johanna's bad side by disobeying her 'no swapping' rule." The conspiratorial smirk on her face dropped, now eyeing you with incredulity as if you'd given her a resounding slap right to her ego.

With her more or less out of your way, you walked over to Tom's door and knocked three times, same as you did for the rest of your assignments.

"Who is it?" his muffled voice queried from the other side.

"It's Y/L/N. From staff," you called out. "Morning wakeup call."

You could practically hear the smile on his face as he spoke again. "Am I the last on your list?"

Oh sweetie there's no list. It's you. It's only ever gonna be you, you thought to yourself with a smirk. "Yup. Last one."

"Please, come in then." The eyes of your onlookers widened the side of saucers at what they heard. "I'm nearly ready, I wouldn't want you to wait out there on your feet. Come in, catch your breath. Really, I insist."

You made a show of looking a bit perplexed at the offer. "O-Oh. Uhm…alright then." You turned to give your fellow staff members a casual look, shrugging before using the keycard in your hand to open the door and slip into the room, your cheeks and neck already straining from the laughter you were reining in as you saw the image that greeted you. "That is not even remotely 'nearly ready'," you playfully accused, motioning to the towel that he held around his waist, water droplets still running down his torso from the shower you suspected he'd just finished at most a few minutes ago. "What if someone else drew your name?"

Before he could answer, you held a finger to your lips and pointed at the door, then signaled toward your ear to tell him that there were people outside listening, or as you snidely put it in your thoughts, 'rummaging for scraps'. "Simple, darling. I wouldn't have invited them in," he answered in a more hushed tone. "I really should finish getting ready, though. Wouldn't want to let this wakeup call go on for longer than is expected of me," he said in a teasing tone, making a motion as if to turn around.

The air left your lungs in a disbelieving chuckle as he released his hold on the towel, the weighed down fabric falling to the floor with a wet sounding thud, and baring every inch of his gloriously naked form to you.

You had to force yourself to look away, gripping the edge of the dresser so hard that you were sure the skin on your knuckles turned white the second you caught a glimpse of the perfectly rounded cheeks of his ass.

That was monumentally easier back when he was mere feet away from you, and now nearly impossible with the way he walked right up to you, lightly wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists and leaning in to bring his lips closer to your ear. "I noticed you didn't have anything to put your hair up. I know how you get when your hair starts to stick to your neck," he whispered, lips lightly brushing across the shell of your ear.

He leaned in even closer, his slightly damp chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached around behind you with his other arm to tie a ribbon around your wrist. Your breathing hitched in the bach of your throat when he stepped even closer, working his thigh between your legs as he dipped his head and traced along your neck with the tip of his nose. "I uhh…I have to get back to the briefing room by 8…" you trailed off with a whimper, letting out a soft moan the moment you felt him press a kiss to your neck.

"We have time," he murmured, pressing another kiss on the same spot and smiling against your skin when you tilted your head and exposed more of your neck to him. He hummed into your skin, pressing closer against you, taking a deep breath as if he was breathing you in. "Is this a new perfume?"

His question, coupled with how he continued to press kisses along your neck, hands leisurely roaming your body as if you two had all the time in the world, put your mind in a haze. "It uhh…it is. One of the girls I'm assigned to room with suggested I try it out."

You began to grow weak in his arms as he kissed a trail down to your chest, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs to lift you up onto the dresser. "It's divine on you," he breathed against your skin, his lips kissing up to the other side of your neck and making you rest your forehead against his shoulder, struggling to take deep breaths.

When he started nipping and sucking at your neck was when you had to hold a hand over your mouth before you moaned so loud that everyone outside and maybe even the room above you would know exactly what was going down in this room. "What--"

"The mark on your neck looked lonely. Let me fix that," he whispered into your skin before latching his lips onto your neck again and proceeding to bite and suck a bit harder, causing you to press your lips to his shoulder and muffle your moan that way.

When you felt the all too familiar flames of your desire start to lick at your skin, your hands found themselves gripping at his back, struggling to remain cautious to not dig your fingernails in and claw at him.

"No," he grumbled against your skin. "Don't hold back, goddess. Sink your teeth into my skin. Mark me. Let me have you with me all day long." He weaved his fingers into your hair and moved to press his shoulder harder against you, as if urging you even more to leave your mark on him the way he was currently doing for you. His grip at the base of your hair tightened when you bit down on his shoulder, groaning into your neck a near euphoric sound that nearly sounded like a guttural 'thank you'.

You pulled away first, nearly gasping for air. "I have to be out soon or they're going to start gossiping about what they think is happening in here."

"They wouldn't be gossiping, sweetheart, because they would be correct," he shot back with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back from you and finally letting you down from the dresser, giving you a soft smile as he fixed your hair to cover both sides of your neck. "I'll be ready in two minutes. Grab a water before you leave, you look a bit flushed."

"Menace," you murmured, scrunching your nose at him and giggling when he tilted your head up and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before walking back into the bathroom to actually get ready. You made sure to take a few extra seconds before walking back outside. No sense in letting a perfectly good view go unappreciated.

As you'd suspected, Brynne and the other staff members were still outside when you stepped out of the room, water bottle in hand. "Wow…" she droned at you, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you were going to nick anything from the room, you shoulda gone for something with a bit more substance. Amateur."

"Okay first of all, I didn't swipe this," you bit back, your tone from earlier suddenly making a return and causing a few of the staff members to flinch at the sudden shift in the room. "He told me grab one, said something about me looking 'redder than usual'. Second? If you have a problem with me being assigned to this particular player, take it up with Johanna. Because frankly I don't have the fucks to spare to deal with your petty toddler pageant behavior."

She stood in front of you gobsmacked, a small sound of utter shock escaping her when you made sure to bump against her shoulder hard when you walked past her as the door to Tom's room opened.

"Oh…I suppose you're all here to perform wakeup calls for your assigned players? Like Y/N?"

His words seemed to snap everyone out of their reverie and they haphazardly approached the doors and knocked, hollering their names and telling the person on the other side that they were there for the morning wakeup call. Your boyfriend let out a soft chuckle, subtly shaking his head at their antics and lightly touching the inside of your wrist before signaling for you two to walk toward the elevators.

"Am I mistaken or did I hear you using that voice you have tucked away for some of our more creative nights out here?" he asked under his breath, deftly swiping the bottle from your hand and bringing it to his lips to take a few gulps before handing it back to you.

"Had to," you answered before you finished off the contents of the bottle. "She was trying to make a move on what's mine."

That had him quickly wrapping his hand around your elbow and leading you into a more narrow hallway that probably led into the hotel staff's service walkways, walking you back against the wall and lightly gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Much as I adore it when you get a touch territorial, you do know that no one will ever succeed? There's no one in this world that can lure me away from you. I'm yours. Always."

You rose to the tips of your toes, bringing a smile to his face as he met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. "I love you," you murmured against his lips, letting out a whiny whimper when you heard the footsteps of the other players and staff members about to round the corner.

"I love you, too." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before you two parted ways and he went toward the elevator, casually greeting the other players as he met them. Meanwhile you made your way back to the briefing room, surprised to find yourself the first one there.

"Ah. Y/L/N. With fifteen minutes to spare, too," Johanna greeted you. "How'd you like to be assigned to set up for the Elementals video?"

You fought to keep back the sheer joy that you felt from the offer, the knowledge that you'd be seeing Tom again in a short while filling you with so much excitement you were itching to dance on the spot. "I'd like that very much. Thanks, Johanna."

A/N: I was supposed to have posted this yesterday during my birthday but I got sidetracked building a Baby Groot Lego set 😂🫡 There's about 4 more stories that take place during Soccer Aid week for these two and honestly I can't wait for y'all to see what else I have in store for them because they're precious menaces in love 🥹🥹

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

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ctitan98official · 2 months

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Anonymous: The Dimitrescus (Alcina and her daughters) reacting to an s/o who has an extremely contagious laughter? 👀

Hell yeah, I love this. Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

One day, as you lounged in the opulent library of castle Dimitrescu, you stumbled upon a dusty, old book that looked to have been penned centuries ago. The artwork and writing was so absurdly hilarious that you couldn’t contain yourself. Laughter erupted from your lips like a sudden storm, filling the room with infectious mirth.

You were doubled over and tears streamed down your face as you gasped for breath. The more you tried to stifle it, the harder you laughed.

Amid your uncontrollable laughter, you heard a soft, almost amused voice behind you. “What has you in such high spirits, draga?”

You turned your head, still chuckling, to see Alcina leaning gracefully against the library’s doorframe. Her golden eyes bore into you with a mixture of curiosity and affection.

Between bouts of laughter, you managed to choke out a response. “It’s this book, Alci. It’s absolutely ridiculous!” With great effort, you held up the book for her to see, it’s silly cover illustration only making you laugh harder.

Alcina couldn’t help but smile at your infectious giggles. She glided over and took a seat beside you, her fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book. “Ah, I remember reading this book once,” She said, clearly understanding what was cracking you up so much. As she looked at you, she smiled fondly. “I must admit, draga. Your laughter is quite… Contagious.”

Finally regaining control over yourself, you wiped away tears and turned to face her. “I’ve heard that my whole life, babe,” You grin.

Alcina’s eyes widened in surprise. This was a well-known trait of yours? How had she never realized this about you? It’s true, you two hadn’t been dating for too long, but… It made her wonder what other adorable quirks you might be hiding.

Alcina takes an even… Bigger interest in you from now on, wanting to know simply everything about you.

You’re not complaining.

Bela:

You and Bela had been together for a while and you couldn’t have been happier. Her imposing presence and beauty never failed to leave you in awe. But, there was one thing about you that always melted her cool exterior – Your laugh. It was extremely contagious and she loved it. However… She was unsure if you knew just how much she enjoyed hearing you laugh.

That all changed one evening as you two sat in her bedroom. You couldn’t contain your laughter. You were discussing something trivial, but once you started, it was impossible to stop. Your laughter echoed through the room.

Bela leaned in closer to you. "You have the most infectious laugh, baby,” She purred.

You blushed, immediately trying to stop laughing. You were suddenly worried she might be annoyed. “S-sorry, I can’t help it, babe. It just happens,” You said.

She reached over for you, her long, elegant fingers gently touching your hand. “I find it quite charming, really.”

Your eyes grew wide at her words. You were greatly relieved by this and felt yourself begin chuckling again.

This time, though, Bela couldn’t resist. Soft, melodic laughter escaped her, filling the room. It was a sound you rarely heard, and it was beautiful. Her laughter was like music, a contrast to her usually stoic demeanor.

As your laughter subsided, Bela leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper. “Your laugh is such a treasure to me. It brings so much light into my life. I hope you know that.”

You smiled, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss. “I do now, babe. I’m so glad.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night trying to make each other laugh.

It’s definitely one of your most precious memories now.

Cassandra:

You and Cass haven’t been together long, but her stern demeanor can be quite intimidating sometimes. She’s both elegant and calculated. But, it turns out that there’s one thing that will always break through her icy exterior… Your laugh.

You’ve been told by many people that you have an extremely contagious laugh. It’s not just a chuckle or a giggle either. It’s a full-on, hearty sound that fills the room. And Cass, well… She has a way of making you laugh often.

One evening, you find yourselves sitting together in the dimly lit library of castle Dimitrescu. The fireplace crackles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Cass, as always, looks regal in her long, flowing gown. She’s reading a gushy romance novel Dani leant her and her brow is furrowed in concentration.

Then it happens. Cass says something that just absolutely cracks you up. She sniffs disdainfully after finishing a chapter in the book. “This author really needs to get laid,” She snarks at the rather poorly-written passage she just read. (A/N: Damn, is she reading one of my smut one-shots??)

Suddenly, the laughter bubbles up within you. You try to stifle it, but it’s futile. Your laugh erupts, echoing in the quiet library.

Cass looks up from her book, her golden eyes fixed on you. But then something incredible happens. She smiles. A faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but it’s there.

Your laughter continues and you can’t stop yourself. Tears well up in your eyes as you laugh uncontrollably.

Cass closes her book and sets it aside, her attention now fully on you. She watches you with a mixture of surprise and something that might be amusement.

Then, unexpectedly, Cass joins in. Her laughter is like a rare, precious gem. A sound you never thought you’d hear from her. It’s a soft, melodic laugh that harmonizes with your boisterous one. You laugh together, the library filling with the joyous sound of your shared happiness.

As your laughter subsides, Cass leans closer to you, her lips brushing against your ear. “Your laughter,” She whispers in that velvety voice of hers. “It’s like… A breath of fresh air in this dusty, old castle.”

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spread through your heart. Cassandra Dimitrescu has not only tolerated your contagious laughter, but embraced it. It’s a reminder that beneath her intimidating exterior, there’s a woman who can appreciate the simple things in life.

You lean in to give her a kiss.

Daniela:

You’ve just told Dani a stupid joke and you can’t help but chuckle as you watch her beginning to lose her composure. Her striking golden eyes, framed by her long, fiery hair, crinkle as a big grin overtakes her features.

Dani, the silliest and most affectionate of her sisters, is known for her playful nature. She finds joy in life no matter what she’s doing, whether it’s chasing you around the castle or pulling a harmless prank.

As your laughter continues to spill out, she finally succumbs to it. “Oh, Y/N,” She says breathlessly as she cracks up. “You and that laugh of yours! It’s absolutely adorable!” She gushes.

You can’t help but laugh even harder at her words, causing her to break into a full-fledged giggle. It’s a beautiful sound, one that resonates through the grand halls of castle Dimitrescu.

Unable to resist, Daniela reaches out to you, her elegant fingers gently tracing your jawline as she pulls you closer. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. As you break apart, she looks into your eyes, her own sparkling with happiness. “You bring out the best in me, baby,” She whispers, her breath warm against your face.

Your cheeks heat up at her attention. She’s so gorgeous. You still can’t believe she’s all yours to love. You lean in and kiss her again, enjoying the softness of her lips.

With Dani, everything is an adventure. You love getting to see how you two decide to spend your time together. But, it seems today was simply meant for some beautiful, shared laughter.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader

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prinzrupprecht · 4 months

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Counter argument to those that are complaining about sexualizing anime high school characters

Why are people now crying about writers sexualizing school kids in anime? It’s fiction, they’re not real. Anime is not real. Finding a minor character in a show attractive, doesn’t make the reader or the writer a pedophile. Actually, the term pedophile has been loosely thrown around way too much. It’s a psychiatric disorder when a person has a strong attraction to pursue or try to engage with pubescent children below the age of 13. This is completely different to liking a character that is not real. Hate, disagree with this all you want. Liking or having a crush on underaged fictional characters isn’t comparable at all to pursuing/sexualizing minors in real life. People need to stop comparing the two. Fiction doesn’t equal reality at all. I couldn't care less what authors/writers do as long as we all can understand the difference between fiction and reality. For the longest time, I had a huge crush on Manjiro and I thought he was 18, but turns out he was 16. A lot of the time they don’t look or even act their age. Hidden inventory 16 y/o Gojo fanfics are insanely popular on wattpad/AO3 and he barely even looks like he aged from 16 to 28. There's also so much r34 art of Zero Two and Marin Kitagawa. It’s pen and ink. So who cares?

“Omg tHaT’s a cHilD yOu sIcK fuCkS.”

Some people here don’t seem to understand Japanese culture and it speaks loud and clear. Do these “anime” high school characters act or look like a child? No. Does Yuji/Megumi/Yuta look like a shota? No. They have bodies of an adult and don’t even look like or act like children. Also, liking underaged fictional characters doesn’t mean we are attracted to children / minors in real life. Stop with that shit. A lot of Mangakas sexualize their minor characters. It’s normal in their culture. So that makes Japanese weird too? Nah stfu, let the Japanese cook. I’m guessing the minority that are crying about it are probably pissy Americans that can’t seem to accept that it’s normal in someone else’s culture and many others to like the looks of fictional 2D drawings of characters that don’t look like real humans. All it is, is just art. None of it is real.

It may seem wrong to you, but it is normal to others. Especially those who’ve been writing fanfiction for years on Wattpad and AO3. There’s millions of fanfics of “underaged characters x OC/Readers” which has been normalized already for decades because people can separate their fictional fantasies from real life. Age doesn’t exist in fiction when you can change it in your fan made content. Authors can change the age of the characters too in their fanfics/one shots. There’s been countless of people making High school AUs of Gojo x reader/OC fan made content surfacing Wattpad and AO3.

Some of y’all be reposting Geto x reader smut, & Sukuna x reader smut and they are mass murderers, child murderers, Geto is a racist, and Sukuna is cannibal and arguably a rapist. Would you fuck a child murderer in real life? Y’all be having fantasies of these characters. Majority of Sukuna smut on here is him using a “minor’s” body to fuck the brains out with the reader and that’s somehow better than people finding Yuji or Megumi attractive? Relax. It’s just fantasies we all have, they’re not real.

Anime characters are 2D drawings, so no, I don't consider finding anime girls/boys attractive equivalent to finding young real-life girls/boys attractive. No more than being attracted to drawings with absurdly disproportionate eyes means you like humans whose eyes take up half their skull. It's just an art style. That’s the whole point of fiction, it’s just fantasies as long as you don’t act on those same thoughts in reality who gives a shit. I would never like minors irl, so ffs call me a pedo for liking anime characters or disagree with me. Idc.

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oliversrarebooks · 20 days

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The Rare Bookseller Part 46: Oliver's Ballet

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, captivity

Oliver was trying to keep his hands from shaking as he walked up the stairs to the forbidden third floor.

It was the evening of the ballet, and his master had given him his instructions the previous night. He was to wake up before sunset, bathe, don the expertly tailored shirt and pants that had been provided to him, make coffee, and then head to Alexander's room to attend on him. Oliver wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and his nervousness over dispatching his duties warred with his nervousness about being an embarrassment at a fancy performance. He'd slept better the past two days, owning to Katherine's encouragement and his master's feeding, but now he couldn't help being slightly on edge.

Find happiness wherever you can...

He would do his best to follow her advice and enjoy himself tonight. It certainly wasn't every day he got to witness a ballet.

The oil lamp he was holding in his other hand sputtered and flickered as he climbed the stairs and apprehensively knocked on the dark wooden door that guarded his master's private sanctum. The door creaked open, revealing a very tired looking vampire in a fluffy robe. "Come in, Oliver, come in. Ah, you brought coffee. Excellent."

Oliver handed off the mug as he stepped over the threshold into the room, unable to resist sweeping his lamp around to get a better look, as it was currently only lit by a couple of candles.

Alexander's bedroom was furnished much like Oliver's, but larger, and far more cluttered. The window was covered with shutters, and a thick velvet curtain surrounded the enormous bed. The bookshelves were crammed full of books interspersed with rolled scrolls, stacks of papers, and seemingly random trinkets, a far cry from the orderly shelves in the library. The tables and nightstands were covered in stacks of books and hardened candle wax, and there was laundry strewn about the hardwood floor. The bed was unmade and the sheets and blankets were in a tangle, sliding off halfway, with a rubber water bottle lying nearby. The place smelled of bookbindings and floral soap and brine.

His master didn't seem remotely self-conscious about this state of affairs, taking the coffee, picking his way deftly through the mess, and sitting on the side of his bed. "It looks as if the shirt and pants fit without much need for additional tailoring. That's good," he said, looking Oliver up and down through half-closed eyes. "I suppose I ought to get dressed myself, and then you can assist me."

"Yes, sir." He was about to ask what exactly he would be assisting with, but as Alexander shed his robe and reached for his shirt, Oliver's attention was piqued by a strange symbol on his chest. A scar, but an oddly round one, with a faded symbol in the center.

"That doesn't concern you," said Alexander sharply, noticing Oliver's gaze.

"Sorry, sir," said Oliver, making a point to look away as his master finished dressing.

He took another long look at Oliver as he buttoned all but the top button of his shirt. "...It's no matter. Come with me."

Oliver followed Alexander to a door in the back corner of the room, tripping over a pair of shoes obscured by an old coat on the way. The door opened to an absurdly spacious and opulent bathroom, featuring a marble floor, a porcelain bathtub large enough to fit half a baseball team, and expensive plush bath towels littering the floor in heaps. The smell of floral soap was even stronger here, and the remnants of steam clung to Oliver's glasses, the room oppressively warm.

Alexander sat down in front of a counter with a sink and a mirror, and Oliver's eyes went wide at the odd effect of his master having no reflection. He could see himself perfectly, as though Alexander wasn't even there.

"This is what I need your help with, Oliver. Making my hair look presentable, because I'm not able to do so myself."

That certainly explained why he was so disheveled normally -- although, given the state of his very visible room, it wasn't necessarily the full explanation. "What would you like me to do, sir?"

He gestured to a glass containing combs, long scissors, and a few other odd tools. "Whatever you think is fit. It's not as though I'm going to be able to see it to criticize. I only wish to look neat and presentable."

Oliver had really never paid too much attention to his own appearance, but he had always tried to look neat for customers, so he hoped he would be able to do the job. "Very well, sir," he said, apprehensively picking up a comb and running it through his master's hair.

His hair was soft, surprisingly so, and the scent of floral soap grew even stronger, with undertones of woodsmoke and bookbinding glue and something unidentifiable, a scent which he was quickly learning to associate with his master. Alexander closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face, seemingly enjoying the treatment.

He must be so lonely. Oliver felt it so keenly the prior night when his master had cornered him in the kitchen and drank deep of his blood. As his master's thoughts pooled into his own, he was overwhelmed with loneliness, solitude, the desire for a warm and caring touch. Oliver couldn't help but work his hands into his master's hair on the pretense of styling it, enjoying the small, contented noise that escaped from his lips.

His master was handsome, wasn't he? Was there any harm in acknowledging that? It wasn't as if he had feelings for the vampire who had purchased him. He was simply accepting a truth, one that he had known even when Alexander was simply a prized customer.

"What is this ballet about, sir?" said Oliver, mostly to distract himself from this train of thought.

"It's an avant garde ballet, very controversial. It was actually choreographed and costumed by a famous Russian vampire who has worked in theater from well before I was born. This production has been mounted by a human company, though. It's a dance I'd been wishing to see for some time." Alexander's gaze traveled to Oliver's reflection in the mirror. "I have you to thank for encouraging me to leave the house more often, otherwise I might have missed this opportunity, instead electing to spend the evening wallowing in the manor's dust."

Oliver's breath hitched at his master's subtle smile. "I'm glad of it, sir."

----

Even though his tuxedo fit perfectly -- thanks to the detailed measurements Miss Florence had taken at the auction house -- Oliver still felt uncomfortable among the crowd dressed to the nines at the theater. He was dazzled by the gilded carvings on the walls, leading to a ceiling decorated with an elaborate fresco, and nearly crashed into a woman in a ball gown as he took in the sights.

His master, on the other hand, glided through the crowd effortlessly, paying them no mind. As Oliver followed, he could feel a sense of flowing waves, Alexander's vampiric aura pushing away everyone but Oliver, who felt compelled to follow his footsteps. It was just as well that his master was guiding him, lest he find himself lost.

Soon enough, they had both settled in a luxurious balcony box for two, and Oliver was shocked to see an actual look of excitement on Alexander's sleepy face.

"I simply can't wait to see the costumes -- I've heard they're magnificent. And of course, Yelena Pavlova is said to be a master of the dance. They say her striking and dramatic movements place her a cut above the prima ballerinas who only know how to flit prettily about," said Alexander, with enthusiasm. "I do hope you enjoy it."

"I think I will, sir," said Oliver. At the very least, he was sure he could enjoy it vicariously through his master.

The lights dimmed, the dance began, and Oliver soon found his attention riveted to the stage. It truly was an avant-garde sort of ballet, and the costumes were mind-bending. There were dancers wearing disturbingly realistic animal heads, costumes adorned with colored glass that glittered like jewels, massive peacock feather headdresses, ropes of pearls entangling their bodies, and a few in iron chains and shackles. The intricate pattern of their dance was ritualistic, as though Oliver were watching something forbidden that he couldn't take his eyes from.

Among them all, the prima ballerina Alexander had mentioned performed a stunning routine, clad in an outfit that seemed mostly comprised of ribbons in every color of the rainbow. She was striking pose after pose, being lifted and passed among the dancers, twirling faster than Oliver knew was possible. She was endlessly fascinating to watch.

The dance was so fascinating, in fact, that Oliver had forgotten all about his master's reactions. He glanced over, expecting that Alexander was enjoying himself as much as he was, and was shocked to see a look of stress on his master's face.

"Master, what's wrong?" he whispered.

"Nothing. Just watch the dance," he said, in a voice almost too low to hear, and his eyes flicked across the balcony to a different box.

Oliver couldn't help but look, to see what had his master so concerned. The box across the way had only one occupant, an older gentleman in an impeccably styled black suit. His full focus was on the ballet, his gaze holding a kind of judgmental intensity that made Oliver think he must be a professional critic.

Was this man troubling Alexander? It didn't seem like it could be. Perhaps he was worried about something else, and this man just happened to be in his line of sight as he glanced about nervously.

Could he be...?

Oliver tried to put it out of his head, but now he couldn't help but notice every time Alexander's gaze wandered from the stage. The moment intermission was announced, his master turned to him.

"Do you need to stretch your legs? Use the restroom?" his master asked. Before Oliver could even answer, he continued, "Very well, let's leave the box for a moment." He grasped Oliver's arm and practically dragged him from the box. Oliver found himself gently shoved into a secluded nook, away from the other patrons milling about the theater.

"Oliver, listen very carefully," said Alexander, his voice soft but deathly serious. "My sire is attending this performance."

Even though Oliver had been suspecting this the moment he'd seen the strange man, he still felt a spike of panic stab his heart at the confirmation. "Your sire is here?"

"I should have known he'd have interest in this ballet. But he's been so reclusive lately..." Alexander sighed. "But listen. You must follow my instructions exactly. If you do, it's unlikely you'll be harmed."

"I... I understand, master." Oliver's mouth felt dry.

"You must be quiet and obedient. Follow my lead, do not speak unless spoken to, and then, speak with the utmost respect. But you must be honest, even if you think the truth is dangerous. Never lie. He will know. And finally..."

"Finally what, sir?"

"If he takes control of your body, do not resist it."

"Takes control of my body, sir?" Just as Katherine had warned him.

"Do not resist it even slightly. If he seizes control, relax your body and mind and do not fight it. Believe me -- any struggle will only make your lot worse."

He blinked back frightened tears. "I can try, master."

"Good." Alexander put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "While I don't pretend to understand my sire's mind, I do believe no harm will come to you tonight."

"I hope not, master."

"Would you allow me to put your mind at ease so you can enjoy the rest of the performance?"

Oliver couldn't agree fast enough. "Yes, please, sir."

His master leaned over and hummed in his ear, and Oliver could feel his nerves calming, his fears growing foggy and distant.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Oliver finally gets to meet his master's sire.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme @strawbearydreams

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampires #vampire whumpee #mind control #rare bookseller #oliver #alexander #maestro

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 1 month

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when I took a month off work I was lowkey worried I'd come back and find everyone had been fine without me and I wasn't needed at all (because being terrible at every previous job I've had did some ✨damage✨ to my self confidence)

but that is not what happened

I have never encountered someone so fucking happy to see me as my boss' wife was on my first day back, her face lit up like it was christmas, she was practically jumping for joy because now that I'm back she doesn't have to do the ops team's fucking timesheets anymore

I have been told by one of the ops guys that my leave of absence had caused a genuine rift in the boss' marriage because his wife hated doing my job so much they were actively fighting about it

to be clear, his wife is lovely, she doesn't usually throw a shit fit about just anything, it was just that my job is just so fucking annoying that she hated every second of it, and that was the most validating shit I have ever experienced in my LIFE

and the reason she was pissed off at my boss/her husband about it is because he's too soft on his crew and doesn't make them all report their hours for the week

which, as you can imagine, makes building their timesheets extremely fucking difficult

it basically turns the whole process into a puzzle that I have to solve using roughly three different sources of information, one of which is the boss himself who isn't always easy to get ahold of when he's on a site

this puzzle is made even more difficult by the fact that a glitch in our form system keeps messing up the dates on the timecards, so I have to cross reference the time cards from the two (2) ops team members, who actually DO fill out their forms, with the roster, but my boss often changes the roster at the last minute without telling me or noting it down, so then I have to cross reference with the reports they have to submit for certain ongoing jobs because they'll have correct dates and also a list of who was present (if they were doing one off smalltime jobs that week I'll have no physical records and will rely entirely on the boss' memory to confirm dates and staff numbers, unless I can get ahold of one of the ops team members themselves and there's only one who will reliably communicate with me but only when he's not currently on a site)

I tried to explain this process to boss' wife before I left and, looking horrified, she asked me 'is there no way to streamline this?' I replied 'this is streamlined'

as far as I'm aware, as long as I've worked there, there has only been a handful of times people were paid incorrectly, and it was because I was not given correct information by the boss, in the time I was gone, his wife told me that she had incorrectly logged several pays because of this broken ass system

so, as you could imagine, my ego is through the fucking roof right now, I am GOOD at this bullshit job, I took an impossible system and made it work, I am playing on hard mode and killing it, in a field I had zero experience in before taking this job other than a natural inclination for organising and scheduling

and to be clear, I love this job, the boss is too soft on his staff but he's a good guy, he makes us all feel valued and appreciated, he paid me above my award rate, he's absurdly accommodating, and I have an insane amount of freedom to do what I want with company files

I may be working with a bullshit system but I can take naps in the office whenever I want and tell my boss off when he's being too soft (one time his wife literally started clapping when I told him off for sending clients their reports before they'd paid for them) and I get to control when I work, and whether I work from home or the office (which is GREAT when my back flares up)

I might not get many hours (only 16 hours per week) because the company is so small and I run out of things to do because I've streamlined everything (boss literally called me TOO EFFICIENT), but he'll give me those 16 even if I spend half of it playing solitaire and watching youtube

so just, yeah, it feels so good to be confident in my work, to feel valued and appreciated and like I'm actually successful at something after being handed dud jobs for years that I wasn't cut out for, and now knowing that what I'm doing is actually genuinely hard but I've been doing it anyway without fail, makes me feel good!

so tldr; taking a month off work taught me I have phenomenal job security because if my boss ever fires me his wife might actually fucking kill him

#lula's life #I have genuinely hit a point in my life I never thought I'd reach #I'm happy with my job #I'm not in constant pain #and I am living very comfortably with a friend I love dearly #I don't make a lot of money and still rely on government benefits but that's okay because I make enough to be comfortable #life is actually good I can't believe I made it

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moorishflower · 1 year

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That long lost!Addams ficlet is a delight. You KNOW Gomez would be so absurdly proud if his new great x100 uncle then managed to bag an actual eldritch terror as a partner. Wouldn't even miss a beat.

"Hob Gadling," Dream says, and Hob makes a frankly embarrassing sound -- not a shriek, nothing like that, but maybe a startled yelp -- and jerks off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Dust from beneath the bed settles immediately in his hair, and the floorboards creak alarmingly under his weight, but, after a tense and breathless moment, nothing happens. Hob exhales, and finds himself looking up between Dream's long and slender legs. He's wearing skinny jeans, Hob notes, and he can't resist the urge to grab hold of both of Dream's calves, just above the ankle, and Christ, but he's so skinny Hob can nearly get his fingers to touch.

Dream only raises an eyebrow at him. "Why do you keep the company of witches?" he asks, and Hob strokes up the length of his legs, as high as he can reach, humming softly. His heart is still hammering with excess adrenaline, and he's got to channel it somewhere. Lust for his lover (partner? boyfriend? they haven't really discussed --) is as good a cause as any.

"Hello," he says, attempting to maintain some manner of social nicety. "Good to see you, darling, how's your day been, mine's been fine --"

"Hob."

"-- I only learned that I've apparently got relatives, still," he finishes, and Dream's other eyebrow joins the first. Hob uses Dream's ankles to hoist himself further from the edge of the bed, and then picks himself up gingerly, brushing dust from his hair, his shoulders. It falls down from him in a grey cloud, and he's not able to suppress a sneeze before he says, "Loads of them. From my mam's side of the family. Apparently she had a sister."

"And you decided to visit."

"There were extenuating circumstances," Hob says, thinking of the diary, the bidding war, Gomez's unflappable enthusiasm for the esoteric. "But yes. What's this about witches?"

"Many of your relatives are. Though this explains, somewhat. How swiftly and easily you took to immortality."

Witches are real? sits on the tip of his tongue, and Hob only narrowly swallows it back. "Am I a witch?" he asks, half-fearing the answer. It'd make his drowning in the 1600s a lot less poignant, maybe. If he's been a witch this whole bloody time, if 'witch' is a thing that's somehow separate and distinct from human...

"No," Dream says, and all the tension leaves Hob's shoulders at once. He sits back down on the bed with a shuddering sigh. It's a nice bed, a four-poster with a canopy, and Gomez and Morticia had reassured him that this room did not contain anything that lived under the mattress. The sheets are heavy velvet, in deference to the cold Chicago winter, and yesterday morning he'd woken up to the sight of Wednesday Addams standing over his bed with a morningstar in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She had been contemplating the best way to wake him: by cutting his hair (he'd needed to explain to her that it would take time to grow back), or by caving his chest in (requiring a totally different, but no less important, conversation of its own).

"Good," he says, and Dream makes a low, thrumming noise, and straddles Hob's lap.

"You did not tell me where you were going," he murmurs, and strokes his thumbs down Hob's cheeks, catches his nail on Hob's bottom lip and pulls it down slightly to expose his teeth. "I felt you, still. In the Dreaming. But The New Inn was bereft of you."

"I didn't realize I was coming here until the second I did it," Hob admits, and Dream seems to take this in stride. "Besides. I've got no way to contact you. I sort of hoped you'd just...feel where I was."

"I did. I do. And yet. To hear it from your lips would also be...pleasing."

"You're allowed to say you're miffed, love," Hob says, and lays his hands in the cup of Dream's hips. Thin and bony and his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going. Maybe we can figure out some way we can talk not through the Dreaming, in future. Dunno if you get cell service there."

He means it as a joke, but Dream tilts his head to the side, considering. His thumb sweeps up from Hob's lip, touches just below his eye, the firm bone of the orbit.

"I will consider it," he says, and then bends down and gently covers Hob's mouth with his own. His lips are soft, and Dream always runs closer to lukewarm than he does body temperature, but now Hob gasps because Dream's mouth, when it opens against him, is chilled. Sweet and cool as wintermint, and his tongue licking at Hob's lips is like a round of ice that thaws and melts and slowly slips inside, until Hob can drink him the way he would snowmelt, held in the cupped chalice of his tongue --

"Dios mío," comes a familiar voice at the door, and Hob frantically pulls his hands from where they had been inching over Dream's arse, and then just as frantically tries to rearrange himself so that his erection isn't immediately visible. He's not sure how he manages this last, since he feels hard enough that it could be seen from space, but if that's the cross he must bear, then so be it.

Dream, as always, is utterly unflappable, and turns to the bedroom door looking every inch a king; he's wild-haired, Hob realizes, and the skinny jeans aren't so much gone as they are flickering, like a projector caught between two slides, flipping back and forth between Dream's usual peacoat and jeans, and what Hob's become used to seeing him wear in the Dreaming, what he thinks of as Dream's robe of office, flowing like ink, black as the starless sky.

Gomez, standing in the doorway, looks between Dream and Hob, and then a wide and cheery grin nearly splits his face in half.

"Mi querido niño! You did not tell me you had a paramour! And who is this enchanting creature? Gomez Addams, my friend, at your service!"

Dream blinks slowly, and Gomez, to his credit, does not come forward with a proffered hand or, thank God, a hug. Only beams at Dream from the doorway, until Hob's increasingly eldritch lover breaks the silence at last.

"I am called Morpheus," he says, "Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares. Shaper of Form and Prince of Stories." He inclines his head slightly, and Gomez looks as though he might faint with delight. "And lover of Hob Gadling."

"You did not tell me you were royalty," Gomez says. He strides into the bedroom, and thankfully it's Hob he's bound for, Hob's hand that he grabs. "Royalty! Why, the Addams haven't hosted a king since good old Henry!"

"Which Henry?" Hob gets out, as he's forcibly removed from the bed and dragged, almost bodily, towards the door. Gomez is strong. He keeps forgetting.

"It doesn't matter! They're all quite dead. But yours isn't! Come, my liege! Allow me to escort you and your Prince Consort on a promenade of the grounds! Have you ever been to America before, sir?"

"I am a representation of all sleeping minds, and of the dreaming subconscious of all living things," Dream says, sweeping behind them, stately and imposing. "So. Yes."

"Oh, splendid! That means I don't have to explain baseball."

"What is happening," Hob whispers, as he's manhandled out into the hall. His mind is caught somewhere on prince consort and doesn't quite want to let go of it, but he feels like that's a conversation he ought to have with Dream in private.

And Dream looks at him, smirking faintly, his starlit eyes flicking from Hob's mussed hair to his kiss-pinked lips, and down to the way that Gomez so effortlessly steers him by the shoulder out into the manor proper.

"Family," Dream says, and reaches out, and laces his fingers with Hob's.

#hob gadling family values #my fic #ask response #the addams family #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling #gomez addams

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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

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midnight rain | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter eleven | chapter twelve: it came like a postcard

chapter summary: sometimes, weather forecasts can be wrong; yours said it would be sunny yet a storm came. the same way the bestest days can take a turn for the worst. you'd never choose rain. you did it once and now you're lost. but when you are, the sun always comes. and it envelops you in its warmth. it finds you, it makes you follow it, and you're secure. you'd must always choose the sun.

warnings: angst; non-aggressive fighting, guilt.

a/n: i know it took so long, but im too busy!!! i barely have time for anything so please understand! this took so little time actually, i wrote this in class for 30 minutes, and while i do hate the way i wrote it (for some reason i could never write proper angst?) my creative juices won't allow me for more. so please bear with me. ALSO, LITERALLY ONE CHAPTER AWAY FROM THE ENDING, YAY US.

a few months ago, you attended a sophomore party around the first few days of your sophomore year. it was at the university, in the event hall which happened past midnight where none of the teachers would have known the drinking, the dancing, and the sex on each corner of the space.

of course, natasha knew about it. she always knew everything. more so if it's something about you. you weren't supposed to go. but you and natasha had a small argument the day before the party—something about the way she so boldly touches you even when people were around. so to get your mind of it, you went; to get back at her, you didn't tell her and planned on going home drunk; and to taunt her, you wore the most absurdly revealing outfit in your dresser.

you were expecting to go home to her waiting for you in a robe and red wine, as she usually does when you come home past midnight. but she didn't. a few shots, and some minutes of dirty dancing later, you were pulled off the dance floor but her harsh grip, and everyone stunned at the professor's actions.

she pulled you in her office, trapped you between her and the desk, and when you thought she'd lecture you, she didn't. she dropped her forehead on your shoulder, and she bathed you in her warmth.

she told you she loved you. that she loved you so much. that she loved you dearly, sincerely, desperately. and the next day, you woke up with flowers and a bottle of her perfume on your bed. you need not a note to know what she was implying—you can try to grind on every person you want, but they'd know.

that's been your routine after every fight.

flowers, and a present.

today was undeniably one of the best days ever. granted, you and natasha had a little argument the night before, but that's what led you to the flower shop for the first time. you spent an hour smelling every plant; feeling the difference between the patterns of every petal; basking in the colors of the life the surrounds you.

and then you rode a bike to the mall. it wasn't your bike, it was wanda's old one from when she and vision had just moved to westview. but you found it in the shed. and with the flowers you bought in its little brown basket, you went toe to toe with the massive cars driving right next to you. and somehow, you felt like you were saving the world.

wanda, that morning, cooked you breakfast. and then she gave you ice cream in a bowl as dessert which doesn't happen at all. wanda can be a nag about health, and you often find the domesticity of having a mother nag you for eating junk very endearing, but it never hurts to have ice cream. and did you jump out in joy when she handed you a bowl.

billy wasn't home. wanda sent him to an errand outside westview. but he left you a sweet note and a sandwich on your bedside table before he left, and before you woke up. he should be home long past 12pm though, which would give you the very opportunity to make it right with your girlfriend before he comes back.

she wasn't here.

she's never here when she gets into a fight with you. she cools off her head, gives you your space, then she comes back to talk.

you assume that's how she'd always been, even with wanda given that she did use to live away from her family that you assume is because of a blowout. you never asked. and you knew she didn't want you to.

you bought her flowers and a scented candle that smelled like your favorite perfume. something that she can put in the office that's been home to too much of your sins, and overflowing with so much of your love.

the sun was out, and for the first time, it didn't seem to burn. it was just... warm. no chance of rain, said the weather forecast.

but of course, sometimes, they're wrong.

"do you know i cheated on natasha with vision?"

and it rained.

"sorry, what?"

the moment you closed the door behind you, and right after wanda called for you in the kitchen, it poured. harsh, angry rain.

"it was over a year ago," wanda clarifies. "natasha was getting too busy with work, and vision happens to drop by."

"wanda, i don't—"

"and i slept with him."

you stiffed. your chest tightened, and the grip you had on the bouquet you couldn't be bothered to hide behind you became strained.

you weren't sure why wanda was telling you. neither did you want her to. but suddenly you feel for natasha. like that very thing wanda did was enough to justify and save natasha from every argument, every fight, every bad thing between you two.

"wanda, i really don't know why you're telling me this," you whisper, voice shaking, resisting. "i think it's none of my business."

you didn't know what to do, what to feel. wanda cheated on natasha. and natasha is cheating right back. should it be called even? you couldn't say. the anger of knowing what natasha had to go through, vs wanda... your mother. sweet sweet wanda. you justified wanda in your heart.

she was standing behind the kitchen island, looking at the yard over the floor to ceiling windows. and then she turns to you, pauses when she sees the flowers and paper bag in your hands.

she smiles, tiredly. "is that for her?"

you didn't have to be asked twice. your mind didn't scramble for an excuse either. surprisingly, no "for who?" or "it's for billy". just silence.

she looks at you.

she knew.

her eyes stayed the exact same green shade as they were earlier. or yesterday. or the many days before that. there was nothing different. she looked the same. but she knew.

you'd already betrayed her, you couldn't lie to her. and your mind didn't allow you to even dig through your raging thoughts for an apology.

and she beats you to it. "i'm sorry," she tells you; her voice raspy, coated in what pain you could feel her hide.

all thoughts left your body. and you weren't sure why it was only now that guilt surged through your every vein, every muscle.

you might have not chosen natasha, but a part of you knew that she would choose you. that she would always choose you. and somehow, that was able to keep you in your bubble. to spare you the guilt. to keep you safe. knowing that while you would choose wanda, that you would do what's right; she wouldn't. she would choose you. even if it's wrong. and that makes the weight of your sin much much lighter.

"wanda i—" she gave you the chance. she stayed silent. she waited, she hoped, she looked at you with eager eyes. but you couldn't say anything. you didn't say anything.

she walked closer to you. you could tell her knees were weak, barely carrying the weight of her body. then she smiled, a sad comforting smile. like when she told you what she'd done to your mother. like when she offered you a way out.

you yelled in your mind. screamed. the voice begged to be ousted;

don't touch me.

don't touch me, wanda.

please, it's my fault.

don't smile at me.

slap me. curse me. swear at me.

throw me away.

force me to go.

don't...

please don't be nice.

please don't smile.

please...

don't make it harder for me...

you stayed silent.

something about the way her eyes sparkled with threatening tears made you feel a sense of home and longing. like the feeling you get when you know you'd have to travel the next day so you clean your home, and enjoy the few hours you have in your room. and you feel at peace. the dread, the excitement, and the longing. you feel everything all at once.

"i'm sorry," she tells you again. raising her visibly shaking hand to caress your cheek. you didn't know what to do. you froze. "i was supposed to protect you, i was supposed to be your mother," her voice decreased to a whisper. but you still heard the way it cracked. the way it got stuck in her throat. "it's all my fault."

and your heart broke. your heart broke for her. your heart broke for the crying eyes staring into you—the same ones the would shine when seeing her wife, or would sparkle when billy gives her a hug. your heart broke for the hurting mother. for your hurting mother. for the mother you hurt.

"wanda, it's not...," you whisper.

she stuttered for words. avoiding your eyes, struggling to keep her composure, "i really love her," she cries. "and i needed her. and she wasn't here. and i was desperate."

she was defending herself for a crime she didn't commit. you're supposed to be the one justifying. you're supposed to be the one crying—looking at her with grieving eyes.

but how could you? what could you say?

i didn't love her, wanda. but i would long for her touch, crave for her lips, burn for her warmth the same way i long for air, and crave for love, and burn for every bit of earth that falls on my skin.

i didn't love her, wanda. but when i go to heaven, and god tells me that this very sin is what would send me to hell, i'll tell him how ironic it was to have the only heaven i'd ever known be what would send me to burn down in hell.

i didn't love her, wanda.

but i did.

oh how i did.

"i'm sorry....," you finally say. you finally gathered the courage, the words, the thoughts to apologize. may it be the wrong ones, for the wrong person, but you were sorry for tolerating natasha. you were sorry for the indulgence. you were sorry for granting yourself the heaven when you were only meant to stay on earth.

you were sorry for natasha. for everything that you did. but not for loving her. never for loving her.

"no, darling i...," how could she call me that? "it's my fault. i should've—i should've known. i should've realized. you should have never been in that situation if i—"

"wanda what are you—"

"she wouldn't have used you."

she wouldn't have used you.

but she loved me...

"at least it—it wouldn't have...," she choked. "it wouldn't have gotten this far, i—"

she told me she loved me. she whispered it to me in bed, she wrote it to me in class, she moaned it in my ear. she loved me.

"you were a kid, i—"

she wasn't looking at you. she was avoiding your eyes, guilt surging through her body, and pain glinting her eyes. she was shaken up, she was confused. and you... you were lost.

"i married a beautiful woman. she is kind, she is thoughtful, she is caring," and she loved her deeply. you could hear it from her voice. and see it with the way a smile crept her face through her tears. the thought of her alone is enough to put her in a trance, in her own little bubble.

and then the bubble pops. and she looks back at you, unaware that she'd been looking away. "i...," she searches for words, looking in your soul; holding it, hugging it through the windows of your eyes. "i didn't think she'd be the kind to... take advantage of a child so she could get back at me."

i didnt think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

i didn't think she'd be the kind to take advantage of a child so she could get back at me.

suddenly the memory of her touch burns your skin. the memory of her kisses slices you. the memory of her, and everyday of the past year, and you, and the both of you—suddenly, everything was hell. and you were on fire.

your ear rings.

she used you.

she loved me.

she was using you for revenge.

she loved me.

she took advantage of you.

she loved me.

she pretended.

she asked me to run away. she loved me.

she's taking it too far.

she told me she loved me.

did she really?

no.

"she loved me," you resisted her touch. you moved away from her. you insisted, you screamed, you cried. "she loved me wanda."

you saw pain through the wrinkles on her face. you saw pain for the family she's losing, and pity for the daughter she'd come to love as her own. she grieved for her family. and mourned for your innocence in your place.

you saw it overtake her—the broken woman whose family's at loss overtake the sweet mother who'd cared for you for over a year. and more as a child. you saw it glint her eyes, the change from pity to anger.

"she loved me...," you cried, dropping to the floor.

you knew she was torn. should it be pity that you loved her wife, or anger that you loved her wife. she was fighting in her head. you can see the way she defended you in her own mind. you were just a kid that her wife took advantage of. but also, you were the stain in the family that she's been trying to fix.

you didn't know which one won, which side of her. the subtle cruelty of the way she dropped an envelope on the floor to your knees, and the love that it was to crouch to your level and look at you.

"you're breaking my family...," she told you. "i can't let you do that anymore."

you wonder which wanda your talking to. while her words were thorned, her voice was coated with the love of a mother.

"this is enough to get your mother out of the hospital, and last you until you graduate."

she had kept a distance between you two, especially when she stood up. she's calmer now as if she'd already decided.

"for what it's worth...," she trailed off. "i wish you never had to hurt billy."

the fight is over. you were the kid who her wife took advantage of, and let it happen. you were the woman who betrayed her son. and she hates you. like a mother who hates her child: forever.

just like that, you were out of the house you'd called your home for the last year, and under the blazing storm. you were lost.

"y/n!"

until your beacon shines again.

"oh my lord, what are you doing outside!"

billy runs over you from his car with an umbrella. he hadn't heard. but he takes you in his arms, and wraps you around his coat. "i left early," he whispers. "what happened?"

you were lost. you always had been. but billy always found you. and you always followed him. you were lost as a child, and followed billy to his home. you were lost after graduation, and followed him to university. you're lost now. and you knew you'd chosen well. because he always found you.

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velvetcloxds · 4 months

Text

A MAN IN UNIFORM | J.H.

pairing: brother's best friend!jim hopper x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (reader in her late 20s)

summary: your brother's best friend has always been hot, but him stepping in when you got an unfair ticket strutting around in his sheriff uniform has you feeling some type of way

Now, had Hopper walked out of his office to find anyone else making a scene in the middle of the police station, shouting at the top of their lungs, catching every eye in the room, throwing things at one of his best officers- he’d have thrown them right out the door. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you, his best friend’s little sister and heaven knows he at least had to give you a chance before doing exactly that. He folded his arms and leaned against the open door of his office as he shook his head to stop his deputy from getting your attention.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately, picked up the phone and slammed it down again, dialed your number, and then shoved the phone away, imagining your voice on the other end- would you be excited to hear from him, surprised maybe? He saw you properly at Christmas and Thanksgiving every year and sometimes easter, ran into you around town, and flirted a little in the movie store but not nearly as often as when you were teenagers hopping between diners and bars in high school.

“Listen here, bucko,” you pointed a bright red-nailed finger at the officer who was smirking far too smugly in your opinion, all things considered. “Do you have any idea how close I am to kicking you right off that chair?” he didn’t think you were serious, Hopper knew you were, so when you took a step forward, he did too.

“Lady, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s just a ticket.”

“Just a ticket,” you shrieked, it was a familiar sound, one much like the one you’d give him when he’d thrown you in the pool on summer break or cut you off from the jello shots back in university, it didn’t mean anything good was to come. “If my brother finds out I was given a ticket in his car by some dipshit who just got his badge, he’ll have my head- no matter the reason for said ticket being that the asshat in question had his little ego bruised when I didn’t want to go out with him and decided to get back at me,” Hopper moved at that, a gentle hand on the small of your back, a dangerous look aimed at the officer in front of you as he mumbled your last name just loud enough to let you know it’s him.

“Hopper,” the officer tutted, seemingly under the impression that he was about to be backed and not the other way around, smugness only growing as he stood up to hand over the ticket that you’d thrown at him earlier. “I tried to talk her down,” he scoffed, you fumed, the audacity. “You know how these girls are, can’t take no for an answer.”

“You little shit.”

“Language,” Hopper reminded you, but he was smiling in a way that meant he didn’t mind nearly as much as he should, lightly pulling you behind him and pointing towards his office, it was a clear command and you’d not take it so seriously were he not looking down at you, were he not so close to you, had you not realized in a split second how long it’s been since you’d seen him in uniform doing all of the above somehow making it all seem absurdly attractive. “I’ll take care of it, yeah, meet me in my office. “

Jim Hopper was the only man who could give you an order like that and have it obeyed, even with a big huff and stomped steps and a whole ordeal of uttered musings and threats, you did go to his office, and you busied yourself with the little figurines on his desk while you waited. He was talking to or rather at the officer you’d lost your cool with and you weren’t nearly as curious about what he was saying as you should’ve been. He’s always been attractive, always been too kind to be that hot and you remember countless years being wasted on having a crush on your lame brother’s very cool best friend who picked you up from school and carried your books and turned down nights with girls far out of his league in favor of keeping an eye on you and put out his cigarette when you were near- and now that very cool, very hot, very kind man was walking right towards looking far too damn good in a uniform you’d have to stop yourself from imagining him without.

“Is it safe in there?” he hummed as he stilled in the doorway, one hand holding a crumbled-up ticket, the other reaching to the coat rack to take his hat and you watched him with narrowed eyes as he set it on his head. “Stop frowning at me like that, trouble,” he wasn’t serious, really, he found it adorable even though he knew he shouldn’t, then again, he also shouldn’t have disciplined an officer for being an ass to his friend, but that ship has also sailed.

“Did you put him in his place?” you dared, taking his keys from his paper stack before sliding off his desk to meet him at the door, that same finger that you used to point at the officer now sliding over his tie to straighten it. “Because I’ll walk right back to him if you didn’t.”

“Course I did,” he was the smug one this time and it had the exact opposite effect on you, especially when the officer came walking past the office with a box full of goods and his tail between his legs on his way to the public complaint department of the station and you understood why Hopper seemed so pleased with himself. “Happy?” he dared but of course you were, so much so that you tugged his tie lightly to pull him closer and placed a red-lipped kiss right on his cheek, giggling from the feeling of the little hairs of his beard creeping up over tinted skin.

“Very happy, Jimmy,” you cooed, and he was glad for the door frame because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself standing were it not there. “Seems that uniform of yours is good for more than just making me nervous,” you admitted and gave him no time to push for more before slipping past him into the hallway, stealing his hat and gripping his keys tightly as you did. “Are you taking me out for lunch to celebrate, sheriff?” as if he’d ever say no, as if you’d ever let him.

“As long as you’re not driving,” he knew it would rile you up just enough to frown all perfectly at him, with big eyes and scrunched nose as you walked backward towards the exit.

“I’m ordering an extra piece of pie just for that.”

“I thought we were sharing,” he countered, quick to follow just in case you tripped and hurt yourself. You shook your head, tutting as he caught up with you just in time to grab your hand and pull you out of the way of some stranger.

“No way, got to keep those pants of yours looking nice and tight.”

“Naughty,” he breathed, and he paired the word with a little whistle and desperate glance away from your teasing, very longing gaze. You made quite the little show of licking your thumb and wiping carefully at the red lip stain on his face, for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to cover him with those all over, his neck, his chest, those big arms of his and in turn you found your cheeks spreading with warmth and wondered if you were too old to have a crush on your brother’s best friend or the town sheriff for that matter.

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