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katsukikitten · 1 year ago

Text

cum here

Warnings: spit, dub con

A Bakugou Birthday collab read the intro on the ML first!

A notification pulls your attention in your tipsy stupor as you collapse half dressed in your bed. Another successful night out with your girlfriends when your favorite pro hero posts a picture.

A thirst trap no less making you pop up in bed, the room spins delightfully as you stare down at the picture, screen shooting it without a care that he may get a notification for it but you were sure that you wouldn't be the only one.

Bakugou Katsuki, THE Dynamight with his shirt up exposing his abs, his Adonis belt and the vein that leads down to what has to be his fat cock.

You salivate over the thought of it and the several shots of tequila have you feeling bold, although your friends would argue you'd have been this bold sober simply because of how much you spoke about him even if most of the public thought he was an asshole you claimed that's what made him so fucking hot.

Pushing up your tits and angling your phone just right before you snap a photo and attach it to a very public reply before you slip into his dms to send a little something extra.

Bakugou's phone becomes nuclear to say the least, blown up from how many replies and notifications has gotten in such a short time. Each and every woman and the few male prospects are more than attractive and yet none make his cock jump to life, not fully anyway.

Until he sees you, tapping on the picture to make it full screen.

Soft fat tits pressed together, skin aglow in the ambient low light of warm string lights. Tongue lolling past pretty lips, wet muscle most likely fluttering before you took the picture. Obvious that you waited long enough for drool to drip from the tip in a silvery string as some droplets collected on those perfect tits. Pinching his screen to zoom in on your sexy mouth he imagines pressing his angry cock head against before he shoved his length until you gagged around him.

He groans at the thought, zooming out to take in all of you before he finally reads the caption..

Cum here.

“Fuck.” He growls, clicking on your profile, going to privately message you in hopes of more pictures. Palm moving to free his cock from his boxers when he sees you messaged him first.

Sharing your location with the pro hero like a fucking idiot. What if Bakugou had been hacked?

And here you were offering yourself up on a silver platter.

Cum here echoes in his head as he backs out to your selfie and before he can talk himself out of it he's jumping back into the tight black denim that never made it past his thighs.

You lock your phone falling back into your bed after you've seen that he's read your messages. Sighing as you hadn't expected much else, especially since it was his birthday and half of the feed were thirst traps of others tagging Dynamight in hopes of getting his attention. He ignored every single one of them, even from well known models and porn stars, so what chance did you really have?

Still, it was fun to be a little delusional every now and again.

Fireworks echo in the distance and you're surprised the spring festival was going this late into the night. Never one to miss a good show you rise from your bed, topless and half drunk to watch the last of the fireworks before you'd pass out, sleep well past noon before ordering a fat order or take out.

Leaving the sliding glass door open when the cool night air makes you shiver and regret foregoing a shirt. Eyes adjusting to the dark easily but your eyebrow furrows up in confusion. You hear the fireworks but you can't see them.

At least not well, a small orange burst that makes you wonder if maybe they aren't fireworks at all, that maybe it was just a villain making their grand escape.

Scoffing you turn, closing the sliding glass door only for it to be stopped in its tracks. Looking up for see a hulking shirtless man shrouded in darkness on your balcony. Smoke, caramel and whisky envelope your senses as the man breathes evenly behind you. You blink once, twice before you register his eye color.

Toxic, crystalline bromine.

"Dynamight?”

“In the flesh, Sweetheart.” He removes his hand from the frame of the door, takes a step towards you and you step back.

Stalking forward until you're both fully in the room and he delights in the mixture of emotions in your eyes. Fear, excitement, arousal.

“Haaah, what's wrong? Little kitty is acting more like a cornered bunny. Ya scared?” He leers over you, crowding your space, “Shouldn't be. Yer the one who invited the big bad wolf.”

Grabbing onto your chin to turn your pretty face this way and that, he doesn't even need to force his eyes away from your chest, your face captivates him that much. He runs his tongue across his teeth before he smirks.

“Now where am I supposed to cum again?” His large thumb swipes over your plush lips before he shoves it between them, forcing your mouth open.

He tries to recreate the picture you sent him, watches the wet muscle flutter and it makes him salivate. Makes him gather it in his mouth before he's pushing it the tip of his tongue letting his spit hit your tongue.

“Right here wasn't it?” He mixes his spit with yours with his thumb, pressing down on your tongue harshly. He watches your eyes widen before they narrow, into that hungry cat gaze that was in your photo.

Eyes that devour him whole as you hollow your cheeks to suck on his thumb. Swirling it around the digit before you pop off of him, the lewd sound echoing around the two of you.

You're fast, faster than Bakugou, especially drunk, expects. Jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his waist, bucking your hips to make him fall onto the bed with a grunt as your tongue slides into his mouth. He paws at you heavily, grabbing at all your delicious softness as he growls into your mouth, calloused hands still warm from his journey here. Launching himself into the air that did little to sober him after he stalked your profile enough to get your apartment floor and balcony right.

Your claws dig into the nape of his neck as you bring him into a sitting position parting the kiss slowly, letting the silvery string that connects the two of you snap on its own.

“Gonna let me take care of the birthday boy and his special request?” You practically purr, crawling down his body as your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and jeans. All but ripping them from his body even when he lifts his hips to help you free his cock while he grunts out a “‘Course.”

It stands at attention, jumping as your eyes fixate on the one thing you've fucked yourself to the thought of hundreds of times. Drunk all over again, eyes falling to half mast as your hand grips him firmly, listening to him hiss over the contact before you give him a few languid pumps.

Hovering over him for a moment before you look up, watching his pupils blown wide, wider than what they were at the door. Soft almost unnoticeable red tint to his cheeks as he tries to control his breath.

“Try not to fall in love.” You giggle, lolling your tongue out to swipe over the leaking slit in a quick stripe.

“Ya wish, Sweetheart.” But already his head is falling back, hands reaching to grab at your hair before you swipe him away.

Slowly taking him into your mouth, hand gripping what you can't fit into your mouth, letting his fat cock head gag so that your throat contacts the same way your cunt would. Saliva pooling past your lips to coat his shaft, gagging again when you hear him groan before you start a steady pace.

Bobbing your head, alternating hollowing your cheeks and letting him ram into the back of your throat. Giggling when you push his head into the pocket of your cheek, holding eye contact and he reaches down to pull his balls harshly.

He's never been this close to cumming with such little effort.

You let your molars graze him lightly before straightening him in your mouth again. Sure to hit your gag reflex purposefully so that his pre and your spit soak his neatly trimmed pubic hair that's starting to slick to his skin.

If you're lucky he'll stay long enough for your pussy to do that to him too. Cunt neglected as it soaks your underwear as you adjust your weight on your knees for some sort of friction.

Moaning around him when he groans loudly, at his hisses and growls of sugared curses that do nothing but encourage your sinful movements.

Katsuki is panting, the man with all the endurance in the world is fighting the building coil in his lower abdomen and losing.

Bakugou Katsuki never loses but tonight he just might.

Letting his fingers card through your hair before he's pulling harshly, still you don't budge. Lost in your mission to make this last as long as possible by changing from a speed that's bound to make his cum flood your mouth to a slow bob that has you gagging around his sensitive head every time.

Letting your eyes flicker to look up at him and his debauched face, throughly fucked out as his chest heaves eyes fixated on you even as he struggles to hold his head up as if he couldn't bare to look away from.the things you do to him.

The sight is enough to make your eyes flutter, to make you moan around him and the vibrations make his sac tighten, moving your hand so you can shove all of him deep into your tight throat, tears in your eyes that stick in long lashes and fall in fat droplets as you bob on his entire length, once, twice.

And he can't take it, the sight, your eyes all but begging him to cum as you choke yourself on him, as if his pleasure was more important than air.

“Oh fuck princess, just like that.” He groans, cupping the back of your skull as he presses enough to make you gag one last time before he bucks his hips up into you. Starving you of air as your nose is pressed to his pelvic bone while he paints your pretty throat in sticky white cum, your claws digging into the thick meat of his thighs deliciously.

Finally he lets you up and you gasp desperately for air even if you found his aggression as he chased his high undeniably hot. You expect him to smirk, expect him to laugh or to leave pulling up his pants in a hurry but he doesn't.

Instead his large hand grips your chin, pulling you to him as his free hand comes to wrap around your sensitive ribs. Closing the space so that he can kiss you, swiping his tongue over yours shamefully groaning into your mouth as he tastes himself mixed with your spit.

“Fuck.” He pulls you onto the bed, flipping the two of you so he can pin you to the mattress chasing your lips desperately. His other hand has a mind of its own as it rips your panties from your hot core, fingers quick to press and spread your glistening folds. Cruelly avoiding your clit before he shoves two thick digits knuckle deep into your drooling cunt.

Forcing you to arch off the bed, pumping into you with a harsh pace, fingers perfectly positioned to bully that spongy spot that has you seeing stars before he times it perfectly.

Pulling away enough to look you in your eyes before he slowly, roughly, swipes his thumb over your clit and makes you cum in a matter of seconds, faster than any toy. You arch off the bed with a moan so loud you're sure the neighbors know his name now, little do you know what else he has in store.

Removing his middle and ring finger from your fluttering cunt reluctantly, quick to press the digits to his tongue harshly. Smoky caramel fills your senses as his palm heats against the fabric by your head. Leaning over you again to swipe his tongue against yours to taste the two of you melded together in your hot, hungry mouth. He pulls away, hand gently cupping your throat as he holds your gaze, cock heavy and hard again as he aligns it with your still convulsing entrance.

“Sorry Sweetheart, guess I fell in love.” He bullies himself into you in one harsh thrust and you're seeing stars again.

“Now I gotta return the favor.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #Katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou thirst #bakugou birthday bash #bakugou smut #tw dub con

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angelx · 30 days ago

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First time requesting kinda nervous (〃ω〃)

Do you think you could maybe do something where Katsuki have gotten a bit of a chubs to him?? And the readers practically drooling over him? Smut maybe (≧∀≦)

If not it’s totally fine pookie bear!! Also ur writing is so good, so keep up the good work ml ٩( ᐛ )و

this could be a fluff but since you requested a smut, your wish is my command ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

NSFW!! chubby!katsuki x reader

“All of You”

You don't know when it happened exactly—maybe after he stopped training twelve hours a day, maybe after he got too comfortable in your bed—but Katsuki Bakugo had filled out. Arms still thick, still solid under your palms, but his abs had softened into something more touchable. His thighs? Ridiculous. His stomach? Slightly pudgy, biteable, and driving you insane.

You were drooling. No, literally. He tugged his shirt off and your mouth went dry and wet at the same time.

“Stop starin’, dumbass,” he grumbled, tossing the shirt to the floor.

But he knew. The smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth? Yeah. He fucking knew.

“I’m not starin’,” you whispered, eyes glued to the gentle curve of his stomach, the way his sweats dipped just low enough to show that soft trail of hair leading down. “You’re just… you look so…”

“What?” he challenged, stalking toward you while your back hit the mattress. “So what, baby?”

Your thighs pressed together. “...Edible.”

He froze. Blinked. Then grinned—cocky and hungry.

“Yeah? You like it?” he muttered, grabbing your hand and placing it directly on his stomach. “You like how fuckin’ soft I’ve gotten, huh?”

You nodded, speechless, palm splayed over warm skin. He was still solid underneath, but that little plush layer? It made your brain short-circuit. You leaned in, kissing just above his waistband, dragging your tongue across his belly while he groaned.

“You’re actin’ like a fuckin’ perv, you know that?” he muttered, voice tight. You looked up, innocent and filthy. “I wanna ride you.”

That shut him up.

He laid back, thick thighs spread, sweatpants shoved down just far enough to free his cock. You climbed on top like a woman possessed, planting kisses all over his chest, his tummy, sinking your teeth into his hips until he growled.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy”

“Can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re so big. And warm. And soft. You feel like home.”

And when you finally sank down on him, inch by thick inch, he lost it. Hands gripping your hips, his belly jiggling just slightly as you started to bounce.

He was loud. Messy. Moaning your name with every thrust, red in the face from watching your tits bounce and your mouth fall open in pure, greedy bliss.

“Shit—look at you—fuckin’ takin’ it,” he gasped. “So needy for my cock, huh? Thought you liked me better when I had abs.”

You slammed down on him harder. “No. I like you before and now. I like this—” you ran your hands over his belly, “—and this—” you leaned down to bite at his neck, “—and how your thighs trap me when you’re on top.”

His eyes rolled back.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he groaned.

“Good,” you whispered. “Wanna die full of you.”

You were already sore.

Your legs didn’t wanna work, your mind was fogged over, and your body was thrumming—but that didn’t stop Bakugo from grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach like he owned you.

“Still want more?” you breathed, dizzy from the heat of him.

“I ain’t done showin’ you what this body can do,” he growled, pressing his chest against your back. That soft tummy of his spread warm over your spine, hips grinding into your ass, cock hard and heavy between your thighs.

You whimpered. Whined.

“Katsuki—fuck—!”

“You’re gonna take it,” he muttered, voice right in your ear. “Gonna fuck you slow ‘n deep, make you feel every goddamn inch of me.”

He pushed in again, and your mouth fell open. There was nowhere to run—not with his arms around you, not with his weight pressing you into the mattress, not with how deep he was, like he wanted to stuff your whole damn soul with cock.

And you loved it.

You loved every second. Every thrust that jiggled his belly against your back. Every gritted curse in your ear. Every breathless moan when your walls fluttered around him.

“You like me like this, baby?” he asked suddenly—quiet, raw. “You like how I’ve changed?”

Your heart cracked open. That wasn’t a cocky Katsuki question. That was insecurity. The kind he’d never say out loud unless he needed to know.

You turned your head just enough to kiss his temple. “I love you like this.”

He sucked in a breath.

“I love your belly. I love your thighs. I love the way you hold me down like I’m yours,” you whispered. “You feel so real like this. So fuckin’ safe. I wouldn’t trade one ab for a single inch of you now.”

“Shit,” he choked out, fucking into you harder now, desperate. “You’re gonna make me cum so fast—fuck—say it again—”

“I love you,” you whispered. “I love every inch. I want all of you.”

He came with a growl, hips jerking, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he spilled deep inside you. You felt every twitch. Every pulse. Every drop of his release filling you up until you were shaking, too.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just laid there, breathing heavy against your back, arms curled around your waist like you were something precious.

“…You meant that?” he asked, voice gruff and small.

You turned your head, kissing him again.

“I worship you, Katsuki. Chubs and all.”

He huffed—half scoff, half laugh—and buried his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ sap.”

But he held you tighter. Pressed closer. Stayed inside like he didn’t want to leave. And when he whispered “love you too, dumbass” into your skin?

You knew he believed it.

#mha scenarios #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha headcanons #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #mha smut #bnha smut #mha #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha bakugou

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drcomttheo · 26 days ago

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MATTHEO RIDDLE x YN

summary: Mattheo is sick and is overdramatic warnings: Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy words: 1597 a/n: Rework of my Anidala oneshot "Man Flu" Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖪

It had been a particularly long night for you, who found yourself awake through the hours, devotedly caring for Mattheo as he battled his “Dragon Pox,” a condition more commonly known as “man flu.”

Despite the heavy burden of fatigue, you stood by Mattheo's side, your heart filled with devotion as you meticulously administered his medications. With gentle hands, you wiped his brow, your touch soft and soothing, while he lay there, his body trembling with powerful sneezes and soft moans of distress.

However, as time went on, you reached a point where you could no longer bear the circumstances. His relentless monologues of self-pity, lamenting his perceived suffering and declaring himself “dying,” gnawed at your composure, and you fought to uphold a facade of patience and empathy.

You struggled to understand how a simple cold could basically incapacitate someone. Nevertheless, you devoted yourself to his care, providing warm beverages and soothing words, all the while internally rolling your eyes at his dramatic expressions of suffering.

“Mattheo!”

Mattheo let out a low groan, his eyelids fluttering as he shifted his gaze to you. "Yes, my love?”

Your gaze sharpened, your exasperation with his theatrical antics almost consuming you. "Mattheo, you're acting like a child. You're suffering from a cold; it's not a serious illness."

Mattheo winced, his hand soaring to his chest in a dramatic flourish, "But this is different, my love. This is the worst sickness ever. I can hardly breathe; I feel like I'm dying!"

"Jinky! Check Mattheo! Please tell me what his diagnosis is," you exclaimed with a flourish.

Jinky, the ever-dutiful house-elf, hurried into the room, his small exterior strutting in.

“Certainly, missus. Allow me to assess Master Mattheo's state."

Jinky, the best nurse elf, began to meticulously work on Mattheo, assessing his vital signs and symptoms with precision.

After a brief pause, he shifted his gaze to you and remarked, "Jinky thinks that Master Mattheo's condition is not grave. He just has a common cold, and it poses no threat to his life."

Mattheo's expression darkened at Jinky's revelation. He had yearned for a diagnosis of greater gravity, one that would warrant the indulgence and care of you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you looked at Mattheo's disheveled face.

“See, my love? It's just a cold. Nothing serious. Now stop being such a baby and behave like the powerful Death Eater you claim to be."

Mattheo's face contorted in a dramatic grimace.

"But I feel terri-ibleee. I can barely move! I need more..." he murmured, raising his cup with a glint of longing in his eyes.

Your eyes fluttered in exasperation, a storm of irritation brewing within you as you struggled to contain your rising frustration.

You let out a soft sigh, your gaze lingering on him. "Mattheo, you've already had three cups…” With a soft sigh, you settled beside Mattheo, your fingers gently tracing the curve of your belly, a silent testament to the life growing within you.

Mattheo, his attention caught by the subtle gesture, abruptly broke free from the confines of his theatrical pretense.

He sat up slightly, genuine concern flashing in his eyes. "My love... Is the baby alright? Is yours a problem?"

Your irritation faded like a distant memory, giving way to a tender smile as you sensed the delicate flutter of life blossoming within you.

"No, Matty. The baby is fine. Just moving around a bit."

Mattheo's eyes shimmered with a tender light as he extended his hand, resting it gently on your belly, his fingertips brushing against the soft curve as he sensed the delicate fluttering beneath your skin.

At that moment, a wave of clarity swept over him, unveiling the profound truth underlying your fatigue.

A pang of guilt stirred within him, a reminder of how lost he had been in his trivial struggles, oblivious to the weight you carried.

"I’m truly sorry, my love," he whispered, his voice laced with genuine emotion. "I've been so focused on myself, I didn't stop to consider how hard this pregnancy is on you."

"It's alright, Matty," you reassured him, your voice soft yet firm. "I just need to rest for a moment." Mattheo nodded, his expression a delicate dance of remorse and admiration, as if caught in the throes of a bittersweet memory that lingered in the air between you.

In the quiet of the moment, a tender squeeze of his fingers around yours conveyed a message. "Of course, my love. You need to rest. I'll take care of things for you. Get some sleep."

You reclined against the plush pillows, a soft, weary smile gracing your lips as you surrendered to the moment.

As you closed your eyes, a gentle wave of relief washed over you, the burdens of fatigue gradually dissipating into a dream.

Mattheo stood watch, his thoughts wandering from his insignificant concerns to center entirely on you, the one he adored, and the precious life you had created together.

~~~

Hours later, you awakened from your dreams, your eyes fluttering open with a hint of drowsiness as shadows waltzed gently across the walls and a serene stillness wrapped around the space.

A wave of disorientation enveloped you, slowly giving way to the familiar contours of your surroundings as you began to piece together the fragments of your reality. You glanced across the room, and a flicker of surprise crossed your features as you realized that several hours had slipped away since you last surrendered to sleep.

As you stirred awake, confusion wove itself into the delicate fabric of your thoughts, your brows furrowing in a silent dance of uncertainty.

You sat up, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you like a soft, familiar blanket.

Where was Mattheo?

With a gentle grace, you slipped from the bed, your movements measured and intentional, as if you sought to reclaim your sense of self within the serene embrace of the moment.

With each silent step upon the cool stone floor, your unease deepened, wrapping around you like a shroud.

The absence of Mattheo's presence created an emptiness that lingered in the stillness of the air around.

Where could he have gone?

You were experiencing a flood of different situations in your head, which caused your thoughts to spiral with worry.

Your sense of dread increased with each step you took until you eventually recognized a figure standing on your balcony.

Mattheo lingered at the precipice, his figure a dark silhouette against the vast expanse of the night sky, while the distant glow of the stars wove a mesmerizing tapestry in the background.

Your heart hammered within your chest as you approached him, your footsteps delicate and cautious. You lingered beside him, your voice a delicate blend of concern and intrigue, as if the very air between you crackled with unspoken questions.

"Mattheo," you whispered, your fingers delicately finding your place on his shoulder, "I've been looking for you."

The gentle caress of your hand upon his shoulder ignited a surge of consciousness that coursed through Mattheo's very essence.

Startled, he turned, his face a mask of surprise quickly obscured by a sheepish smile.

"Ah, my love," he whispered, a hint of remorse lacing his words. "You were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you…anymore. I just needed some fresh air."

"You're feeling better then, Matty?"

Mattheo inclined his head, his eyes drifting to the calming expanse of the forest that lay ahead. "Yes, my love. The crisp air worked its magic on me.”

Your gaze lingered on his features, meticulously examining you for any traces of unease or fatigue that might linger beneath the surface. Your hand gently slipped into his.

“Mattheo,” you began softly, your voice laced with a blend of worry and warmth. "You know you don't have to pretend, right? I know you tend to be a bit”…

He let out a soft chuckle, a glimmer of self-awareness dancing in his eyes. "Oh, you mean dramatic?"

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your gaze. "Let's say theatrical... when it comes to sickness. You tend to exaggerate a bit."

Mattheo pretended to be wounded, dramatically placing a hand over his heart in a display of feigned indignation. "Exaggerate? Me? Never!" he protested, a playful smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, a melodic sound that danced in the air, before a gentle sigh escaped your lips as you drew nearer to him.

Mattheo's arm encircled your waist, pulling you gently against him, your connection deepening in the quiet moment you shared.

He took a deep breath, relishing the serene stillness that enveloped you, the crisp night air wrapping around you like a gentle embrace, and the warmth of your presence pressed against him.

"You don't have to pretend to be sick to get my attention."

Mattheo's eyes returned to yours, a warmth blooming in his expression.

"I know," he confessed softly, his fingers delicately weaving a calming rhythm against your waist. "I just... I enjoy being pampered by you, Y/N."

In that fleeting moment, his voice trembled with a hint of vulnerability, revealing a rare glimpse of unfiltered honesty that surprised you.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a soft smile illuminating your face. With a delicate grace, you reached out, your fingers softly sweeping a wayward strand of hair from his forehead.

"Mattheo," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm in the tense air, "there's no need for you to pretend to be unwell to capture my gaze. You always have it, no matter what."

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo fluff

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sunshinehaze1 · 13 days ago

Text

The First Step

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You only wanted to borrow his step ladder, but Joel insists on changing the light bulb for you. You find a way to thank him.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. no outbreak AU. m!oral, reader has hair that can be tugged, reader is tall enough to suck Joel’s dick while he’s standing on a step ladder. a little competency kink.

a/n: I couldn’t stop thinking about sucking Joel off while he’s being neighborly. Please don’t tell my WIPs I ignored them to write this! 🫣 not beta'd. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 1,373

ao3 | ml

You're perfectly capable of changing the lightbulb in your kitchen yourself. You've lived on your own long enough, handling the odds and ends of home ownership without much fanfare—the big projects reserved for the professionals. So when you had asked your extremely attractive neighbor if you could borrow his stepladder, you surprised yourself when you accepted his offer to change it for you.

When you moved in next door, he was the first neighbor on the street to introduce himself, and you recall his generous offer to help if you ever needed it. Fortunately, you caught him on a Saturday morning when his daughter, Sarah, was at a sleepover the night before. He didn't have to pick her up until noon, so he had the time to help and was more than happy to. He's a contractor after all; he could change a light bulb in his sleep.

It has gotten increasingly warmer since Joel entered your house. Your AC works fine, but you are sweating, gawking at him as he moves through your space. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt within an inch of its life as he carried the ladder and situated it below the light fixture in the middle of the kitchen. He's now perched on the ladder with you standing on the other side of the counter.

You watch as he extends his arms above his head to remove the dead bulb, revealing a sliver of tan skin and a trail of thick hair toward the waistband of his sweatpants. You'd think he wore them on purpose, to taunt you, if you hadn't interrupted his quiet morning. And, he couldn't possibly know that you go absolutely feral for men in sweats.

"Shouldn't take me but a minute to change it." The dulcet tone of his southern drawl going straight to your pussy. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

You smile appreciatively, "Thanks, Joel." Hoping he can't sense the hitch in your breath. "You didn't have to do this. But I appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, sweetheart." He winks down at you. "What are neighbors for?"

This was certainly new for you. You've never had a neighbor as polite and handsome as him. "Sweetheart", and then a wink. Fuck, he's charming and competent. The sudden urge to make a move and suck his cock is overwhelming.

"Could you hand me that one there?" His question jolts you back into the room, and you see Joel pointing to the new lightbulb on your countertop.

Bulb in hand, you approach the ladder and pass it to him. His calloused fingers brush over yours. "Thanks."

You don't back away from the ladder as you watch him insert the new bulb into the light fixture. After the final turn secures it in place, he looks down to see that you haven't moved. Your grip is tight around the ladder's handle, and his bulge is less than an inch from your nose.

Incredulous, he inhales deeply before speaking, "Whatcha still doing down there, darlin'?"

With a coy smile and lustful eyes, "Just admiring the view."

If you hadn't been so close, you would've missed the twitch of Joel's cock below the dangling drawstring. Seemingly, the only part of him that can form a response. His mouth agape, unable to form words before your hands are on him.

You trace the outline of his dick with your finger tip over the soft fabric. It begins to stiffen underneath your touch. His eyes are locked on you as you trace your fingers along the edge of the elastic waistband and his lower stomach. Nails drag through the coarse hair below his belly button, sending shivers up his spine before dipping beneath the elastic waistband.

He doesn't dare avert his gaze as you shift his pants lower on his hips to reveal his black boxer briefs. You palm his cock through the stretchy fabric, your tongue glides over your bottom lip, mouth watering at the feel of him. He's big. Eager to find out just how big, you pull the briefs down just far enough to tuck them underneath his balls.

Your fingers wrap firmly around his base, offering a teasing grip before you move up the length of his shaft. When you reach his thick head, you swipe your thumb through the precum that's leaked from the tip. The added lubrication eases the down stroke back to his base as you feel his cock harden further in your grip.

"Go on, hun." Joel muses breathily. "Wrap those pretty lips around me."

A wicked smile your only retort. You twist and swirl the tip of your tongue up and down the silken skin of his cock. Taking your time as it travels along the prominent vein on the underside. You make your way back up to his head and circle your tongue around it before wrapping your lips fully around him. Inch by inch, you take him further into your mouth.

You set an unhurried pace up and down his length, relishing the taste and feel of him inside your mouth. Slick pools in your panties from the moans Joel releases above you. One of his hands swiftly grips the ladder's handle to balance himself on shaky knees.

You ease off of him, leaving kitten licks over his tip before collecting saliva in your mouth. He lifts the hem of his tshirt just in time to see as string of spit slowly dribble from your lips to his cock. Your palm wraps firmly around him and coats his cock with steady strokes, lifting it towards his stomach, his balls warm and inviting.

With continued strokes, you pull one of his balls into your mouth. Joel's head lolls back at your moan with your mouth full of his balls. Heat roils low in his stomach as it reverberates through his body.

Releasing his balls with a pop, you twist your slicked up palm around the base of his shaft while you slide his cock back into your wet, warm mouth. The weight of his dick rests on your tongue as you relax your throat to take more of him.

"Oh, fuck!" He groans and spits out. Your fingers dig into his ass cheeks to pull him closer until the tip of his cock kisses the back of your throat and your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at his base. His grip on your hair tightens with a pleasurable sting, and his body stiffens. You pause to inhale his scent while savoring the fullness of him inside you.

When the need to catch your breath overcomes you, you pull back quickly. Spit sputtering as you empty your mouth of him. He cradles the back of your head with his large hand, fingers tangling through your hair. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes; he swipes his thumb along the top of your cheek to clear them before they can fall.

"You look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You smile at him before you take him back in your mouth and begin sloppily moving back and forth over his cock, cradling his balls in your hand. His moans and groans echo louder throughout the kitchen, and you feel his balls begin to tighten in your palm. You pick up the pace, eager for him to cum so you can drink him down.

Joel gently moves his hips in sync with your movements. Emitting labored grunts with each thrust. His stomach tightens and you feel his cock begin to pulsate on your tongue before he lets out a final grunt and paints the inside of your mouth with his spend.

With hooded lids, he watches as you swallow it down. Met with a beaming smile, he watches as you swipe at the corners of your mouth, sucking the errant spend off your thumb, not letting a drop go to waste.

Joel descends the ladder, tucking himself back into his pants. "Christ, darlin', a 'thank you' would've sufficed." He huffs a laugh. "But you won't hear me complaining."

"Good, because I think I might have another bulb out. Upstairs." You muse innocently and grab his hand to lead him to your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 🫶🏻

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the first step

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hcneymooners · 2 months ago

Text

౨ৎ stargirl interlude: chapter v.

wnba!paige x pop star!azzi. men & minors dni.

⋆ 🪩 masterlist.

cw: fluff, suggestive content, paige vs her self control, love declarations.

notes: hello, hello. had to update before i got jumped. wanted to post before i was consumed by the met gala. the song lyrics used belong to "scar for love" by niki & the dove. i hope you enjoy yourselves. love you. can't wait to see what you think.

V: COHERENCE.

“wait, we have three golden retrievers? baby, how big is our house?”

azzi smiled radiantly from the smooth face of paige’s phone screen. she shrugged, her hair sliding down her neck and across her shoulder. it was practically buoyant, highly teased for the upcoming single that azzi planned to release. she kept everyone, including paige, in the dark, telling her that it would matter more if she didn’t know a single thing about it.

paige wondered if that was the ethos of her brand as a star.

“i don’t know,” azzi teased. “how many acres could that wnba money get us?”

paige laughed, her face twisting into mock-outrage. “damn, ma. and here i thought you really loved me.”

azzi’s face softened, and she rolled onto her stomach, settling deeper into the body of her bed. the motion made her chest push up slightly, her tits high and glossy with glitter-infused body oil. paige’s eyes glazed over slightly at the sight.

“i do love you, baby. besides, i think i got more money in the bank anyway.”

paige tore her eyes away from azzi’s chest, and met her mischievous gaze blushing fervently when her girlfriend cocked an eyebrow as if to let her know she’d caught her.

“i know, mama. ‘m just playing.”

azzi pursed her lips and then pulled herself backward into an arch, the small of her back flashing a momentary, perfect peek of brown skin before she sat back with her thighs spread. paige muttered a prayer under her breath, pressing her eyes closed with a slow blink. azzi tilted her head, her cheeks flushing a little bit at the small groan that severed itself from paige’s chest.

“you know what i saw the other day?”

“a vision of me flying you out?” paige asked, eyes still closed. azzi laughed, and she opened them in satisfaction.

“no,” azzi answered, drawing the ‘o’ in the word out. “i saw on tiktok that they keep calling me mrs. bueckers. isn’t that so cute?”

paige wanted to die. no, it wasn’t fucking cute.

“yeah?” she murmured. “they calling you by my last name?”

something in her tone was predatory enough to hook azzi, making the other girl look at her with wide eyes. paige’s blue gaze was low-lidded and dark, her bottom lip almost bloodless underneath the press of her teeth. azzi felt her throat squeeze, and her thighs followed.

“um, yeah,” she said with a slight nod of her head.

paige let her lip fall free, her teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek instead. she studied azzi, azzi only barely changed from being on set today. azzi with her baby pink tube top and thrifted lululemon v-waisted yoga pants (she’d made that clear.) she thought of the text she’d gotten last week when azzi said she was thinking of getting lip fillers, which paige responded to in the following manner:

sending a selfie of her side-eyeing azzi heavily in response.

a second text in which she said: » 1 ml at most, otherwise i ain’t allowing it

a third and fourth text to follow up, in which she said: » just thought of how good its gonna feel to kiss you fuck

then: » i mean it's good already but imma bout to be insatiable lol

azzi had responded with a kissy emoji and then promptly shattered paige’s player dreams by saying:

» i’m afraid of needles :(

paige had laughed at that. but now, paige wasn’t playing. she’d been on one for several days, made worse by the memory of what it was like to have azzi live with her in dallas. and now, azzi was telling her about how the world saw azzi as paige’s wife.

“p?” azzi asked hesitantly, and paige refocused on her.

“i’m with you, baby. went somewhere for a minute.”

“where did you go?” and the way she asked was so sweet, so eager to follow paige across every mode of time and space. she’d probably even take the pain of it, punish herself, though paige found her highly unpunishable.

“just thinking about you, mama,” paige told her, voice throaty and low.

azzi smiled, pleased. outside, new york sang its song of life. cars droned on in the late-night traffic, and azzi’s eyes looked out of her window for a moment. paige studied the soft shape of her face and tried to remember what azzi smelled like when she came out of her shower for the first time in texas.

“you’re so sweet f’me, princess,” paige said, and azzi slid back onto her side, shifting her phone so that it all traveled with her.

“what do you mean?” azzi asked, huffing out a laugh. “i’m not even with you right now.”

“you’re always with me, azzi,” paige said, her tone firming into something serious. “i never let you go, physically here or not.”

it was true. azzi’s name was written on paige’s wrist tape before every game. she’d even tailored her brand-deal-gifted aromatherapy set to smell exactly how it did whenever azzi tucked her into her arms. paige ached for her at every moment. her biggest indulgence was being azzi’s favorite baby.

she thought of when azzi was last here, how paige had draped herself across azzi’s lap like she belonged there, face pressed to the soft plane of her stomach. her hand had traced idle shapes along azzi’s side, fingertips dragging light over warm skin, brushing just under the hem of her tank top. fresh from the shower, azzi’s curls had spilled damp and wild down her back, and she’d smelled saccharine—like something honeyed. familiar. paige had nosed at her ribcage lazily, kissed the skin there without really thinking about it.

her brain buzzed now with the ghost of azzi’s hum, with the phantom movement of the one hand carding through paige’s hair, slow and soothing. they’d stayed like that for hours, half-watching a movie neither of them would be able to recall.

azzi was paige’s permanent aftershock, a nuclear vibration that mutated her into something different. someone she liked a lot more than the version of herself, to whom azzi remained unknowable. she wanted azzi under her, inside of her, on top of her.

“everything makes sense when i’m looking at you,” she continued, blue eyes unyielding as she gazed into the screen.

she watched azzi shiver, a flash of perfect teeth biting into her lip.

it made something lurch in paige, some organic thing inside her chest pulling tight. she shifted, suddenly full of everything she couldn’t say quickly enough.

“i like bueckers-fudd better,” she said abruptly, and azzi blinked. “like the sound of it. looks real good on paper, too. or on the inside of a ring. on a deed.”

azzi’s smile flickered wider, not fully following.

“i want your name next to mine,” paige continued, voice picking up steam. “not just romantically, i mean. like legacy shit. your art, your writing, your music. i want us to build a whole empire off our last names touching. i mean, i’m already planning to buy your masters over time. i’m tryna make sure you own every piece of you. you know? you worked hard for it.”

azzi didn’t speak.

“baby?”

her screen was quiet, the faint city hum behind azzi like a mechanical tide. paige leaned forward. “ma?”

azzi shook her head slightly, her lips parted. her cheeks shone.

“oh. shit, wait, are you—baby. what’s wrong?”

“i love you so much,” azzi said, so quietly that paige almost missed it, “and i don’t even know what to do with any of it.”

paige went still, breath caught in her throat, heart wrung out like a rag. she didn't know how to say me too in a way that could entail the way that the love she carried was the only thing holding her down. so she just said:

“can you come home? to me? like, now. please.”

azzi sniffled and shook her head. “i’m sorry, p. i have rehearsals tomorrow and the final filming day for my new music video.”

paige groaned, her head falling back to reveal the white belly of her throat.

“if you can’t come to me,” she said, voice gone light and teasing, “can you pull your top down a little instead?”

“paige madison,” azzi gasped, scandalized, but already smiling, cheeks warm and eyes brimming with new joy.

paige laughed, the sound crooked and golden.

and azzi just looked at her. she often felt that paige wasn’t real, that she couldn’t be real, that it was impossible to hold all of this adoration without being prostituted by it, and yet there she was, laughing, like the sun had no other job but to kiss her teeth when she smiled.

paige blinked, and for a moment, it felt like she left her own body. like she was floating, carried by azzi’s gaze alone. she dreaded when they would have to hang up.

she always hated the come down.

⟡

pbueckersofficial: my girl is such a fucking crybaby, and she looks so pretty with it too. it be making me wanna fuck her up till her legs shake. 7:03 pm • likes: 1.2m | retweets: 243k | replies: 301k ⤷ username: did we forget the password to the priv AGAIN or...😭😭😭 ⤷ username: be fr we are ONE more tweet away from another WNBA-wide media training day. ⤷ username: paige bueckers saying “fuck her up” with no warning is why the government wants to ban twitter ⤷ username: just 0 decorum on my wifi. ⤷. karnold: girl, boo. she ain’t live with you ⤷ username: she's so real for this bc i too would want to make azzi fudd see white repeatedly ⤷ pbueckersofficial: trust, you won’t be seeing the morning. #stayblessed 😇 ⤷ username: IS THIS A THREAT OR???

pbueckersofficial: hoes mad bc they didn’t lock in like me 🤷🏼‍♀️💍 8:10 pm • likes: 1.1m | retweets: 500k | replies: 432k ⤷ username: HOES MAD BC YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA ACCESS IS GONNA BE TAKEN AWAY 😭😭😭 ⤷ username: this that libra bullshit. fall in love and immediately start tweeting like future ⤷ username: don’t invoke that demon’s name in this loving home ⤷ username: isn’t that hoe a scorpio?

pbueckersofficial: y’all be tweeting “you my peace” to someone who gave you a UTI. i’m not the same. 8:15 pm • likes: 944k | retweets: 132k | replies: 346k ⤷ dallaswingspr: your account could be at risk for temporary suspension for violating community guidelines. ⤷ pbueckersofficial: my b ⤷ azzi35: paige 😭😭😭😭😭😭 ⤷ pbueckersofficial: baby imy, call me back 💔💔

⟡

count on azzi to drop her most public declaration of love while sleeping right next to paige.

the day broke, pink and orange like a heart on fire, and paige blinked awake far earlier than she usually did. something hummed inside of her bones, her marrow thick and something sweet tugging at her mouth. she stayed still, lying on her back like a felled animal, with azzi’s head pillowed on her chest. she hadn’t yet put her finger on the pulse of what had dragged back into the land of the living.

beneath her, azzi murmured something incoherent. they hadn't even lasted a week before paige flew her out again.

the bonnet they’d grabbed at a beauty supply store had slipped off, but her scarf held strong against her bush of curls. her face was marked by pillow lines despite her gravitating away from them onto paige’s body. paige absentmindedly stroked a finger along her cheek, her nail catching along the delicate bones of her nose and cheeks. azzi pressed into it, as if she was trying to find her even in her deepest dreams, and the thought of that made paige run warm.

after a few more moments, paige carefully slid the other girl to the side and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. her feet touched plush carpet, and she grabbed the thin body of her phone, making sure to tuck the covers around azzi before padding into the bathroom. she turned it on, letting it vibrate on the countertop as notifications flooded in, and reached for her toothbrush. it was only after a steady five minutes of vibrations that she figured something might be wrong.

tucking a strand of soft blonde hair behind an ear, paige tapped the sleek face of the device, the screen blurring for a moment before it stabilized. she was already distracted, fingers restless against the sleek glass, as notifications flooded in. but one, sitting there with a quiet power above the rest, caught her attention.

youtube: new upload from azzi fudd.

her heart stopped for just a beat, a strange knot tightening in her chest. paige didn’t even think to hesitate. she clicked.

it was the silence at first that caught her. she didn’t recognize the setting when the video loaded, the screen dimmed at first, only to be pierced by the sharp gleam of neon pink sharp enough to make her flinch. azzi’s face filled the frame, framed against that pop of color like a strange, beautiful ghost. her curls were soft, pinned upward, and despite their careful arrangement, they still seemed to carry a slight wildness to them, as if this updo was nothing more than an act.

every movement was cold and precise, her hands pulling the air into sharp, geometric arcs. it was stunning in its simplicity. azzi was everywhere, but nowhere all at once, moving like she knew every inch of herself. like she had to.

paige’s chest tightened as she watched azzi, this girl who liked to seem so small when they were together, this woman who was now reminding the world that she was a fucking popstar. the popstar.

she watched azzi’s body twist and propel itself across the stage, dipping and bending while azzi kept intense eye contact with the camera as it dared to follow her. paige licked her lower lip as she followed the soft sweep of the body suit, its thin cover as it dipped between azzi’s thighs.

there was an aching vulnerability in azzi’s movements, the way her body tensed and then unraveled, like a machine coming apart under its own weight. paige could see it in the way azzi moved. her eyes slipped closed for a moment, head tilted back just enough to expose the delicate line of her throat, vulnerable, but also so very controlled. she balked, stumbling forward on the balls of her feet like she was on the edge of a large cliff. her body strained over and over, always so close to breaking, but instead, managing to weave itself into a new shape.

azzi sang to herself. it was clear that she was alone in this, spinning like a solo planet even as she bled her heart out for the world to see.

it's either with or against you and nothing left to say / 'cause all you ever got was hurt.

there was a madness to it, a quiet destruction that paige couldn’t shake. she had never seen azzi like this, and maybe that’s what unnerved her most: how easily the world consumed her. how easy it was for azzi to give it all up, even when every part of her seemed to be begging to hold it together.

we mark each other’s hearts / with a scar for love.

it wasn’t just the vulnerability that caught paige off guard; it was how effortlessly azzi embodied it. how easily she could twist herself into something so raw and exposed, and make it seem like the most natural thing in the world. and maybe it was.

azzi had once told her that she despised her inability to be indifferent to anything: the critics, the fans, her mother, her management. azzi was a masterclass in caring above the norm. everything kicked her while she was still down, and sometimes she rolled over to let the world get a clean hit in.

as if to drive the point home, azzi fell off-screen. she hit the floorboards with a tough thud before the camera spun to display her face twisted in electric pain as she crawled across the space. her voice never faltered, its pilgrimage from her throat to the outside world uninterrupted.

paige watched as azzi swung herself up into a crouch just before she hit a wall, stumbling dramatically back before gliding into a gorgeous moonwalk-esque promenade. she faced the camera, jaw strong and proud as she pointed mockingly with a bejeweled acrylic tip and then turned it back to herself, mimicking the action of slitting her throat.

draw a line, sister / draw it deep / do not stop until we bleed.

but there was more. a shift. the camera pulled back, the screen flickering, and for a moment, something different filled the space.

a video. a video of someone blonde. it took a few moments for paige to recognize that it was herself, but from behind. this was clearly a moment that azzi had captured when they were together because paige was laughing, unguarded and helpless in her adoration. it was clear that both women were slaves to love.

as it continued, paige glanced back in slow motion, her eyes crinkling with the softest smile, the kind of smile that made a heart stop in its tracks. paige watched herself stand there as the camera zoomed out, her face falling slightly with the smallest of smiles, the kind that only azzi could pull out of her.

and then, in a fluid motion, azzi stepped closer to the projected image of paige, the video shimmering against the dark backdrop. there was something tenderly desperate in the way azzi approached the screen, like she was walking into a game she knew she’d most likely lose. she sped up, tripping into an unbalanced run. just as she grew close enough to touch, she tilted forward and slammed into the wall with both hands, palming the projection of paige.

she slid down the wall, her body sinking to the floor with a tragic grace that made paige let out a small, wretched gasp. azzi turned and slowly began to curl into herself, leaving just enough time for her audience to see the blood snaking languidly down her cupid’s bow. it fell into her mouth with a sick drip, and continued as she ended it all with a head buried in her knees, as if she couldn’t bear to look at the memory she had just tried so futilely to keep for herself.

the screen went dark. and then there it was: nothing but the numbers 10.20 flickering softly on the black screen in baby pink, italicized serif. the numbers lingered like a kiss print.

the date. it took paige a moment to process.

10.20.

she blinked, disoriented, the weight of it sinking in.

the new album. azzi was releasing it on her birthday. the significance of it hit her all at once, staggering like an unexpected blow. she had watched azzi bare her soul, shed her skin, and now she understood why. this wasn’t just a love song. this wasn’t just azzi doing what she did best.

paige thought of the blood dripping down azzi’s full-glam face, the way she hadn’t wiped it but had hidden it so that the hot, crimson line could continue staining her. she thought of what azzi had texted her just a few weeks ago:

» i can’t be normal about you » i want to hollow myself out, so i can keep you inside of me forever » i don’t care if it sounds crazy, but i don’t want to be anything other than yours. every time i’m alone, every time i’m without you i feel like i’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. » it's like i'm supposed to be going home, but i missed my turn.

paige stared at the screen, the room feeling suddenly too small around her. her chest felt tight, too tight, and her fingers trembled as she wiped away the sudden tears that slipped down her cheeks.

fuck, she loved that girl.

just in the other room, azzi was sleeping deeply. the sunrise stretched like a fresh wound on the wall.

⟡

azzi35: for p. ❤️‍🔥 new album out 10.20 4:44 am • likes: 4.7m | retweets: 1.3m | replies: 828k

popcrushdaily: azzi fudd just released the most daring visual of her career. vulnerable, unrelenting, and devastatingly beautiful. this is a popstar who isn’t afraid to show her scars, both literal and metaphorical. “scar for love” feels like it’s pulling at the heartstrings of every single person who’s ever loved and lost. 10.20 can’t come fast enough. #azzifudd #scarforlove • likes: 6.8m | retweets: 2.2m | replies: 1.4m ⤷ username: oh so grammy secured iktr!

arvind__music (music critic): the perfect example of how a popstar can make you feel uncomfortable, moved, and seen all at once. azzi fudd is making history with this drop. her vulnerability is unmatched, her vision untouchable. we are witnessing the birth of something transcendent. #scarforlove • likes: 33k | retweets: 15k | replies: 8.6k

carmenintheclouds (celebrity choreographer): azzi fudd never fails to have a visual hand that is so on point. from the neon pink to the choreography, everything is tight. and that final scene? don't even get me started on the symbolism. scar for love is art, people. #azzifudd #scarforlove • likes: 12k | retweets: 4.6k | replies: 2.2k

pbueckersofficial (quote replying to azzi35): fuckkkkkkk i love her. 6:20 am • likes: 3.2m | retweets: 326k | replies: 999k ⤷ pbueckersofficial: she put my whole heart in 3 minutes and 47 seconds. what do i even do with myself now? ⤷ pbueckersofficial: i’m supposed to go to practice after hearing that? be fr ⤷ pbueckersofficial: i need to propose. like now. i need to propose TODAY. FAWK ⤷ pbueckersofficial: mind you she’s stil sleeping imma bout to [redacted] ⤷ pbueckersofficial: if this was the bachelor i would’ve given her the final rose S2E1, timestamp 0:30. ⤷ karnold: so you really said fuck that priv huh

wnbagossip: lmao paige bueckers never fails to be the realest out there ⤷ username: when she said “fuck i love her”... we all felt that. ⤷ pbueckersofficial: ain’t nobody got her like i got her, trust

bueckersfuddsourcebrasil: bueckers-fudd nation, how are we feeling now that miss “i’m private” just went PUBLIC?? • likes: 6.5k | retweets: 536 | replies: 1.3k ⤷ username: azzi said here damn! ⤷ username: first strap pregnancy is coming in october ‎‎⤷ ‎ pbueckersofficial: #realshit ⤷ azzi35: paige, please put the phone down and come out of the bathroom, i wanna give u a kiss ⤷ pbueckersofficial light ain’t got nothing on how fast im about to move

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi popstar au.#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #dallas wings

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lostwrlds · 1 month ago

Note

hiii this is my first ask im a lil nervy hehe um im not sure if ur requests are open iii tried looking and couldn't find it anywhere so if they're not im sorry!! but i think a rly cute lil drabble could be like. reo (if u write him!) with an s/o that was raised significantly less well off than him. like lower lower class, but she's not with him for status, obv! i think it'd be cute if i dunno they're hanging out and she's talking abt some event from her childhood that she thought was totally normal and reo's like ml.... wtf is wrong with u

that or like! maybe they're dating and she's always been hesitant to bring him to her house bc she knows how reo lives and she's like well,, what if he hates me afterwards. but he insists on visiting and reassuring her that he's not like. shallow and nasty abt it i dunno

feel free to ignore this if it's not hitting! i do not mind, i really like ur blog anyhow and i hope ur well! kiss kiss

no matter what ─ reo mikage .ᐟ

summary ✩ ! in the sweet breeze of spring, reo mikage reassures you that he'll like you...no, love you, no matter what difference is between your worlds. no matter what. 1.5K

✩ cw; fluff, all characters are adults, afab!reader, minors, blank & ageless blogs do not interact. mwah mwah thank you for taking the time to send an ask and for your request, lovie! i hope you enjoy! sorry it took me so long to get to it! >_<

── © LOSTWRLDS ╱ 2025.

“promise you won’t laugh.”

your voice is quiet, gentle like the breeze that rustles through reo’s amethyst locks as you walk together — side by side. it’s your fourth official date, fifth if you count the lunch you shared at his soccer practice the other day, where you'd made him the cutest little homemade bento full of his favourite snacks. either way, the pro player is happy to be by your side this evening, to watch the sunset glow halo your silhouette and the way your shoulders hunch beneath the sliding straps of your sundress each time you laugh under your breath. he liked this dress on you, it’s perfect for the weather.

“i swear, i won’t!” reo insists, reaching out to fix your strap with a delicate touch that strays no further than the bare skin of your shoulders. you twitch underneath his rough fingertips as they graze you — you’re nervous and your skittish behaviour gives up your jig. ever since you met him, you’ve never been one to shy away from the purple haired player — bold and confident as ever, that’s how you got him hooked like this. the look you give him is a curious mix of bashfulness and fear, you’ve got nothing to worry about; so he does his best to reassure you. “c’mon, you know i'm not that type of guy…”

tonight, you’d invited him over to your place and allowed him to walk you home. he knows it’s a big deal for you, that you secretly worry your background and home life won’t appease him as someone raised in the comfort of the top one percent. but reo doesn’t care, he’s dated rich girls and even richer older women but none of them have a heart of gold like you do. they’re all bitter and callous, cruel with all of their riches and ridiculous spending.

if anything, you’re a nice pace and change from the spoiled, snobby lifestyle he’s accustomed too.

“i've got siblings, you know. the place is always crowded,” you quip, burying your fears under amusement — turning away from reo to stare out into the setting sun.

“doesn’t matter, my place was always quiet growing up. ‘m sure i’ll appreciate the company,” he shakes his head, fingers cascading down your arms as if to stop you from pulling away. his deep, alluring eyes trace over every part of you, drinking you in under the setting sun as if to commit you to memory — reo doesn’t want to let this go or let this end. he wants you in his life, no matter what that may look like. “how many?”

nerves get the best of you and you avoid his gaze, swallowing the thick claggy lump in your throat as best as you can. you find his presence in your life intimidating, yet comfortingly constant. you’re so afraid of the disparities between your backgrounds, how much more the soccer player has and was raised with, compared to yourself. he had it all and you had enough to get by, living semi-comfortably. logically, you know if reo mikage were to judge you, he’d be a narcissistic and privileged piece of crap.

but you don’t do that, you don’t want to have to give him up because of that. you like reo and you so selfishly want to keep him. “two.” comes your shaky reply and you stop walking, taking up space on the sidewalk as the man holds you close. “and the dishwasher is broken but i swear we’re trying to replace it,” the excuses flow without you really meaning to let them out — rushing like a river. if he really cared about what you have and don’t have he’d have given up on this and the very end of your first date… but reo mikage wants you so bad, he refuses to acknowledge any out that you give him.

“hey, look at me,” tutting, reo releases one of your arms to grasp at your chin using a thumb and forefinger — cocking his head to the side as he leans down to your height. trying to see you, attempting to understand you. the gesture makes you clam up and attempt to squirm away, but he’s stronger and faster than you. you’re not going to run this time. “i know that you think i’m some kind of rich snob—“

“— i don't,” you cut him off in an attempt at being firm, heat flaring under your skin with shame whilst you try to shake it away with your head moving side to side. “i-i’m not trying to make you feel that way—!”

the air to mikage corp and the most understanding, caring man you’ve ever met only smiles softly, tutting at you with an air of fondness. “let me finish, and then you can tell me how you feel after, okay?” reo hums carefully, looking you in the eye with the hopes that you can trust him. “i’ll be the first to admit, i grew up rich and spoiled. guys like me are always born with a silver spoon in their mouths… so that i could have anything and anyone that i wanted,” he begins, pushing the words around his mouth with his tongue and navigating how to be honest and firm with you. how to properly communicate his feelings to you without scaring you off.

the spring-like and floral scented breeze carries his words right through you, touching your heart as the soccer player speaks thoughtfully. “but i promise you? i’m not anymore. i want you, want to prove that i’m worthy of you. it doesn’t matter that we’ve come from different worlds and i don't care that things are broken or your home is always loud,” reo hesitates, nerves surrounding the beating organ in his chest because he never pictured this — pouring his heart out on the pavement while he walks the person he likes home. “none of that, all of it… it doesn’t matter to me. i like you. like seriously. i don’t need you to have grown up the same as me for us to work. i like you, no matter what.”

a beat of silence passes between you, only broken up by passing cars and the wafting laughter of people enjoying the warmth of the spring evening. “do you mean it? are you okay with… everything?” you ask tentatively, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

reo swipes a thumb over the bottom one, stopping you from hurting yourself. “i do, i want to visit your home and see where you grew up. where you became this person that i like so much,” he says, treading lightly, as if not to spook you. “but only when you’re ready,”

the sincerity decorating the cadence in your voice tells you that he means it and you believe it too. reo wouldn’t abandon you because you don’t cover yourself in twenty-four carat gold, just as you wouldn’t leave him if he one day lost it all. standing on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose and grin when his face scrunches adorably in surprise.

“i’m ready, i want this. for you to see my home.”

and with that, you open your heart and your world to reo mikage. he walks you to your place and is polite in closing the front gate while you sift through your purse for your house keys. he greets your mum at the threshold as he toes off his shoes, who’d turned from your worn down kitchen at the end of the hall after hearing your familiar voice and jingling keychains. reo bumps fists and shakes hands with your siblings and teases them playfully — dubbing himself ‘the boyfriend’ once you reach the landing on the first floor, having been stopped by them on your way to the bedroom.

he likes the business, the family photos hanging on faded painted walls and the creek in your floorboards and the whining of your bedroom door. your bed feels loved and slept in, the mattress holding your shape. he detects it when he sinks into it after sitting down. the rest of your evening is spent recounting memories of your home, how you were raised and all the times you’d left the nest for work and uni and exploring the world.

it’s only when an inky black sky replaces the orange coloured sunset outside that you pause to ask. “what do you think?” fiddling with reo’s large hands as he snuggles up to you on your adorable single bed.

“i love it, it’s full of memories. feels safe and like home.” the purple haired player comments wistfully, linking your fingers before he brings them up to his lips. “i wish i grew up in some place like this.”

reo kisses you on the back of your hand and this time you don’t shy away, accepting his affections like you’ve accepted sharing the intimate parts of your home life with him. “maybe one day, we’ll have a place like this. fill it with our own family and memories.” comes your timid offer.

“yeah?” reo smiles, practically saying ‘yes’ already and his heart sings at the thought of a future like this. with you.

tucking yourself into his side, your head nuzzled safely under his chin, you hum in content. “yeah.”

and then, reo mikage makes you a promise. the cross my heart and hope to fly kind of promise, the kind of promise imbued into a ring that he’ll probably get for you, someday — squeezing you close with no intention of letting you go. “then, i’ll make that happen for you, no matter what.”

RIGHTS RESERVED © LOSTWRLDS 2025. the content seen here belongs to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

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starkeymeow · 1 month ago

Text

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT part seventeen, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, me lowkey working all day on this idc, readers thorn implants, rafe being traded off since y/n said no bc snows so fucked up, readers reaction to finding out that rafes being sold now, free my babies

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous next

reader waking up post-procedure

the room is white. it’s not warm white or a soft white. but surgical white. it smells like bleach and chemicals and something just a little too sweet, like they tried to hide the violence in lavender.

you wake up to complete silence.

there’s no machines, no nurses, no soft beeping of a heart monitor to prove you’re still alive. there’s just the sterile hum of nothing. and the weight inside you.

at first, you can’t move. your body feels unfamiliar, like a borrowed shape. your throat is raw and your mouth tastes like metal. your skin feels too tight. your limbs float in that disjointed way they do after sedation. but it’s the weight that anchors you. it’s heavy, foreign, stretched along your back in a straight, cruel line.

you barely shift. just a twitch of your hand. and that’s all it takes.

the pain is immediate.

it slices down your spine like a wire pulled through flesh. your fingers dig into the pillow beneath you, but it does nothing. the agony blooms, and suddenly your whole body remembers how to hurt.

you stay still. you don't make a sound. you breathe through it in shallow, panicked breaths. there’s a silver tray beside the bed, and sitting on it is a mirror. your blood chills.

you stare at it for a long time. you already know. deep down, you know they did something to you. you don’t know what though, so you reach anyway, because you have to. your fingers tremble violently as they stretch toward it. they shake harder the closer they get. this isn’t bravery. this is desperation.

you drag the mirror toward you. tilt it. angle it.

you see your back.

then wish you hadn’t.

there’s a line of thorns. they’re sharp, jagged, unnatural. they’re not even resting on your skin. they’re breaking through it.

they rise from your spine in perfect, merciless symmetry, metallic and slick with blood. they shimmer under the light, some kind of alloy or bone, maybe both. you don’t know. you don’t want to know.

they’ve made you beautiful.

your stomach turns. your vision swims. your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

you sit up too fast. the pain tears through you again like a scream turned physical. you claw at your back instinctively, fingers slipping against the wetness, trying to tear them out, whatever they put in you. you don’t care if it bleeds. you want it gone.

you need it gone.

and then it hits you.

this is the punishment.

this is what they do when you say no.

you scream the first thing that comes to mind, “rafe!”

your voice cracks around the syllable. you scream his name like it’ll undo it all, like he can pull this out of you with his hands, like he’ll fix it.

the door slams open. his footsteps stutter against the floor. he stops in the doorway and just stands there, staring.

your gown is soaked. your back is glistening red and silver. you’re shaking, hunched, wild-eyed. your hands are covered in blood. his mouth parts, but nothing comes out at first.

“y/n,” he says, just once.

you try to stand, but you collapse. your knees hit the tile and you barely feel it. you’re crawling now. it’s pathetic, and you don’t care. you just need to be out.

rafe rushes forward.

“don’t— don’t touch me.”

he freezes, hands raised in the air like he’s scared of breaking you more.

“don’t look at me.” you shake your head. you’re crying now. you hadn’t noticed until your tears hit the floor.

“y/n—” he tries again.

“what did they do to me?”

it doesn’t feel like your voice. it’s guttural, hopeless. like a child.

you curl in on yourself. your hands press to your shoulders and you try to disappear. your palms sting. blood drips down your fingers. you didn’t even feel it when the thorns cut them.

rafe steps closer. his knees hit the floor, but he doesn’t reach out. he just lowers himself, until you’re eye level, and stares at you with something like horror in his face. horror and guilt.

he sees the blood, the metal, the fear. he sees the way you flinch at his presence. his eyes gloss over at the sight of you.

and still, gently, he whispers, “i didn’t know.”

that afternoon

you’re on your stomach, gown still pulled down your back, cheek pressed to a stiff pillow. the sheets are hospital thin. the world’s thinnest barrier between you and what was done.

the nurse moves quietly around you. she’s older, maybe late forties, with kind eyes and a clipboard she doesn’t seem to look at. she’s gentle, but the sting from the serum still makes your spine twitch every few seconds. still, you don’t react. you haven’t moved since they laid you here. you haven’t blinked in a while, either. you’re somewhere else, floating.

the pain is manageable. the disconnect isn’t.

rafe is sitting beside the bed in a chair that doesn’t stop creaking every time he shifts. he’s close. too close. his knee bumps the frame of the bed every few minutes like he forgets where he is. his hand is wrapped around yours, but even when he squeezes, you don’t respond. not the first time. not the third. not the fifth.

at some point he just stops trying. your hand is limp in his. your fingers don’t twitch, your breath doesn’t change. your face is slack and blank, eyes half-lidded and trained on the white wall ahead. you’ve left your body.

he knows that look.

he swallows hard, jaw clenched, and finally speaks, voice low from too much silence, “how long until she heals?”

the nurse doesn’t stop what she’s doing. she dabs a soft gauze pad around one of the thorns near your shoulder blade, soaking up a tiny line of blood that’s begun to trickle down your spine.

“i don’t know,” she says quietly.

rafe blinks. “you don’t—?”

“it’s the first time this has been done. there’s no chart. no protocol. no timeline.”

rafe’s brows furrow. he glances down at your face, your body still and unmoving, then back at her.

“yeah, obviously it’s her first time. she’s never— she hasn’t been punished like this before.”

the nurse stops. her eyes finally meet his. “no,” she says. “i mean the first time. ever. not just for her. for anyone.”

rafe stares at her like she just said the floor isn’t real.

“what?”

“the procedure,” she says, gesturing vaguely to your back, to the thorns, to the black stitching and the twisted metal threaded into your spine. “it was . . . conceptual. there were drafts, sketches. we got a briefing an hour before. no practice. no rehearsal. the doctors did what they were told. this was snow’s idea, not science.”

he leans back like the words physically hit him. “you’re saying—”

“we don’t know how her body will react. we’re treating symptoms as they appear. guessing and hoping.”

rafe’s hand tightens around yours. “so she might not get better.”

the nurse hesitates. “she might not fully heal. it’s possible the tissue never accepts the implants. it’s possible she’ll always be in pain. or that her system shuts down piece by piece. or she recovers. we don’t know. no one knows.”

he goes quiet again. his jaw clenches so tight it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack.

“what can i do?” he says finally. it’s not a plea. it’s a command he’s begging to be given.

the nurse wipes her hands, sets down the gauze. “keep her off her back. help with the bandage changes—saline rinse only. no direct pressure. she might not say when she’s in pain, so watch her eyes, watch her breathing. speak gently. warmth helps. comfort helps. the body listens when it feels safe.”

rafe nods, eyes glued to you. you still haven’t moved.

“so you guys experimented on her.”

the nurse stills. “it wasn’t my call.”

“she could’ve died, you know.”

her expression doesn’t change. “she didn’t.”

rafe’s mouth opens like he’s going to say something else, like yell maybe, or snap, or throw something, but the knock cuts him off.

he turns fast, and enobaria is in the doorway. she’s not even fully inside. just one foot in, one out, like she doesn’t want to see.

her arms are crossed, but her expression is all guilt. she barely glances at you before she drops her gaze.

“rafe,” she says quietly. “they need you outside.”

“i’m not leaving.”

“rafe.” her voice hardens. then she softens it again. “it’s not optional. just for a second.”

he opens his mouth to argue, but then he looks at you. your cheek is still pressed against the pillow. your hand is still limp in his. your eyes are still fixed on the wall like maybe it’ll open and pull you through.

you’re not here. and he can’t pull you back.

“i’ll be back, alright?” he murmurs to you. it’s a promise.

he lifts your hand and links your pinkies to be playful, like he wants to see if you’ll snap out of it just to smile. but you don’t. he just frowns and kisses the back of your hand, then your forehead. it’s quick, but careful. not for the nurse. not for the room. just for you.

he rises. the chair creaks beneath him. he doesn’t look at enobaria as he passes her. the door closes behind them.

the nurse stays at your bedside, her hands working on the final bits of dressing, more routine now, smoothing the gauze, taping the edges just right, but her attention starts to shift.

the window to the hallway is wide enough to catch the pieces of soundless conversation. she glances out through it, not too obviously, just enough to catch the movement of rafe stepping into view. he’s standing in front of snow.

snow’s surrounded by two peacekeepers. enobaria’s there too now. the nurse can’t hear what’s said, none of the words making it through the wall, but the emotions? they’re loud enough.

snow speaks first. he remains calm as ever, hands folded like he’s giving someone a pleasant lecture. something about what he says makes rafe’s head jolt back, like what the hell are you talking about? even without sound, it’s clear.

snow says something again, and this time enobaria leans in, half between the two of them, trying to either explain or defend rafe, this one’s hard to tell.

snow just shrugs in that quiet kind of confidence, like no matter what anyone says, he’ll have his way in the end. his hands remain neatly clasped in front of him. his smile doesn’t budge.

rafe, on the other hand, explodes.

he starts yelling, hands flying, body leaning forward as if sheer force could shove snow back into some kind of humanity. the nurse watches as a peacekeeper steps in to calm him, hand reaching out for his shoulder. rafe knocks it away hard, like the touch burns.

enobaria tries to get between again, stepping up fast, but another peacekeeper grabs her by the arm, muttering something as he holds her back. she hesitates for half a second before letting him pull her aside. she doesn’t look at rafe. maybe because it’s too hard.

snow backs up slightly, just enough to stay clear as two peacekeepers move in to restrain rafe. he fights them, tries elbowing one in the ribs, shoving another off him. one of them stumbles. a third rushes in. rafe throws a punch that lands.

but that’s it. that’s when it gets worse.

the numbers catch up with him. hands grab, arms twist, and he’s dragged back down the hallway, still shouting, still fighting. the nurse’s heart pounds in her ears as she watches him dig his heels in, desperate to turn around.

right before they pull him out of view, he looks back. his eyes land on the window. on you, still unmoving on the bed. not that you can see.

his mouth opens, yelling something the nurse can’t hear, but she sees the way his lips form your name.

then, just for a second, his eyes lock with hers. the nurse.

there’s panic in them. there’s fear.

and then he’s gone.

enobaria stands stiff beside snow, her face tight with something that looks a lot like guilt. snow turns to say something to her. she doesn’t answer, just stares straight ahead like her mouth’s wired shut.

and then snow looks through the window, straight at the nurse. he doesn’t smile this time. he just looks, like he’s reminding her that he sees everything. silence is survival. then he turns and walks away down the hall.

the nurse’s hands are shaking by the time she looks down at you again. your face is still slack against the pillow, your hand still cold in the crook of the sheet. you haven’t seen any of it.

you don’t know he’s gone.

and she’s never felt more useless, more scared, more ashamed. because the only reason this is happening is because you refused to be sold.

reader finds out rafes being sold now maybe (a bit short)

the house has never been this quiet. not the usual kind of quiet either.

you sit curled up on the couch in the dim living room, a blanket barely covering your legs, a bowl of berries half-eaten in your lap. the hologram tv plays in front of you, the flickering images from the capitol news casting soft blue light across your face. you don’t hear most of it. it’s just white noise now.

cassaline dropped by earlier. there were flowers, gifts, sealed letters, all from strangers who saw your pain and decided it was theirs to decorate. you only opened the ones from your parents. the others sit untouched on the coffee table.

and then the door opens.

you flinch at the sound, head turning fast. rafe walks in. the door locks behind him with a soft click. he looks . . . hollow. his eyes are dull, his jacket falls off his shoulders as he shrugs it off. he doesn’t come in further. he just stands there, fingers twitching at his sides, staring down at his hands like he doesn’t even know what they are.

“is everything okay?” you ask softly, trying not to sound worried, but it slips through anyway.

he startles like he forgot you were even there. he jerks his head toward you, eyes flicking back and forth too fast to land on you for more than a second.

“yeah,” he breathes. “i’m good. everything’s good.”

but it’s not. you feel it.

you push the blanket off, slowly rising from the couch with your arms around your ribs to keep your back from pulling too much. “i could start making something if you want,” you offer as you limp toward the kitchen.

he doesn’t answer, just murmurs something you can’t hear as he heads up the stairs. so you follow, not immediately. not until the silence gets louder that at this point you really are getting worried.

when you reach the bedroom, rafe’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, shoes kicked off, elbow on one knee and his head in his hand. he picks up the remote and flicks on the tv, trying to act casual.

but the moment the news flickers to life, he regrets it.

“today, a man of great prestige was found dead in district two. initial reports say it was a suicide, but—”

“—many are calling it cowardice.”

“—a traitor to the cause.”

a photo flashes on screen. a name you half-recognize. some elite from the capitol, you think, high-ranking. some kind of advisor or finance head, you’re not sure. the image is cold. the anchor’s voice colder.

you stop in the doorway, watching the way rafe gives in too fast, lifting his hand and pointing it to the screen like you’ll understand. it’s useless trying to keep it from you anyway.

“what?” you ask, brow furrowing. “what about it?”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it.

“that was me.”

you blink.

“what was?”

“that was me.”

your mouth goes dry. “you . . . like you mean you were there?”

he finally turns his head to face you, his eyes glassy. he doesn’t say it again. doesn’t need to.

you stand there, trying to assemble it all, but your brain doesn’t move fast enough to catch up. it can’t. your stomach’s in your throat, but your mind can’t process why. he’s freaking you out.

he wouldn’t kill for nothing. he never has. never without a reason.

“snow’s gonna kill me,” he mutters.

“for killing one person?” your voice is quiet, unsure.

he snaps his head toward you, eyes sharp now. “for killing a buyer, y/n.”

you flinch.

a buyer?

your lips part, no words forming. you try to speak, but nothing comes.

he looks away again with jaw clenched like he’s ashamed. he’s gripping his hands together, wringing them like he can squeeze the guilt out through his skin.

and suddenly it hits you. hard.

he’s—?

no.

your knees nearly buckle under you.

he’s being sold.

“no,” your voice is barely above a whisper, a sick feeling rising in your chest. this is some sick joke. “no, he— i told snow to leave you alone. at the ball. i told him—”

“doesn’t matter,” rafe mutters. it makes you falter. “he already had buyers lined up.”

you stare at him. the room feels too small now. your chest too tight. you don’t know whether to scream or cry or hit something. how long had this been going on? how long has rafe been carrying this by himself?

he still won’t meet your eyes.

and all you can think is this could be happening because you said no. this too? mutilating your body for snow’s satisfaction wasn’t enough?

it’s like your worst fears are coming to life.

there’s too much to think about, too much to swallow, and you feel it coming again. you feel sick to your stomach. this can’t be your life. it can’t be his. all because you said no.

and now he’s paying for it.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts ++

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winxanity-ii · 11 months ago

Note

hi i recently read your message about making makima!reader a poc and completely understand where youre coming from

as someone who isnt a poc, sure, it threw me off every now and then, but its not like i really minded it or thought it changed my reading experience

im currently loving your know no evil story and i think youre an amazing writer, but i think you probably should add a disclaimer at the beginning and in the story masterlist about specifying a noncanon skin color for the more sensitive readers 🤷

idk girlie, you do you, i think youre doing amazing but i just wanted to let you know cause theres a lot of people who get touchy if a reader isnt a fully blank canvas so having a disclaimer puts them more into a spot

if they see it at the beginning and theyre not into that shit, they dont gotta read it yk cause like thats just how things work out here

💀💀💀 Lol, re-read what you typed and then click my page to go to the pinned post and come back… No need to play the "other people may be upset" card. Girly pop, YOU’RE the "other people" who is bothered, but just got the audacity to type it out instead of going about your day, and that’s completely fine. But what’s not fine is wasting MY time and Beyoncé’s internet to say you’re upset that I used "tan" and "brown" for skin tones 😐

My writing aims to be inclusive and reflect the diversity in the world, which includes representing people of color. My stories are for everyone, but they also aim to give representation where it's often lacking.

If a character's skin color or identity isn't to your preference, that’s totally fine. There are countless other stories that emphasizes the "paler" skin tones, I promise—there's some out there for everyone. As for adding a disclaimer, once again, I believe my pinned post already addresses the inclusive nature of my writing, so if your reading comprehension is a bit low, I always make sure to put it in simple terms in bold colors and big letters as well.

Also, this was really weird and tone-deaf, and the fact you did this anonymously is sad (and also the main reason I won’t be doing what you suggested because I can’t tell if this is a joke or not 🤷🏾‍♀️) but yeah, thanks for reading??

My page is for the majority of the world—people with COLOR. So unless you’re as pale as a white cloud, I can’t help you because my writing is meant to reflect a diverse range of skin tones 😭💔

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 year ago

Text

How John Comes Home from Deployment

CoD ML

John hates coming home from deployment during the cold periods of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves the sight of you asleep in your shared bed, wrapped up nice and snug in the thick comforter. A smile never fails to spread on his lips when he notices the pattern of your shirt, barely visible in the dusk yet enough for him to notice. Fortunately he has his flannel shirts to keep you warm when he can’t.

John knows you’re more than capable to take care of yourself. Nevertheless, he can’t help but grit his teeth at the thought you had to tuck yourself in yet again. That’s his job!

But the annoyance, as per usual, subsides at the scene in front of him: you snuggling with the warmy (a stuffed animal that contains a bag with cherry pits you have to heat in the microwave) he got you. He vividly recalls how you giggled that day, the way you compared him to the brown grizzly bear in your hands. “A rather striking image, innit? It’s like looking in the mirror.”

“That how you see me?”

“Especially in the morning when you haven’t had your cigar and tea yet.” He wrapped you up in his arms, pride swelling in his chest as you snuggled into it. “You’re my bear.”

My bear.

It’s the nickname he never envisioned himself liking. However, now, there isn’t anything else he’d rather be called.

Aside from Daddy.

John has embedded the way you say it in his fantasy and often thinks of it, plays it like his favourite song over and over. Out in the field, it’s a sure fire way for him to not lose morale. Moreover, it fuels his determination to return home, no matter the cost.

(And the rest of his boys too, of course!)

He has to.

If only because there is an important question he needs to ask. Should right now, after months of gathering the courage.

But he lets you sleep.

This can wait until the morning.

Quietly John puts his stuff in the corner by the door, grabs a shirt and pair of sweats out of your shared wardrobe, and slips into the bathroom to change. However, not before he has caressed your cheek, made sure he’s kept his promise. The talon of anguish lets go of his throat when he finds your skin dry and free of the little salty black rivulets that stained it last time. Thank God, he hasn’t made you cry again.

“The next time I do, I’ll retire,” he recalls telling you when he lifted you off of the couch. You’d fallen asleep there, wrapped up in your favourite white fluffy blanket like a burrito.

For as long as you could, you stayed awake to welcome him home in person. Unfortunately, you lost the fight around one in the morning. Two hours later, John stepped through the door, knackered and a little heartbroken at the sight of you clutching one of his shirts like it’s your lifeline. He didn’t mind the stains your mascara had made on it.

The same can’t be said for the fact your act had crumbled behind his back yet again. Time and again he’s told you it’s fine to cry, to tell each other you miss them, to not always pretend to be fine.

Because he knows you aren’t.

And neither is he.

Yet the decision he’s made might change things, bring some peace. Even if you tell him he’s insane and shouldn’t do it because it will be like throwing away everything he stands for, he stands by his word.

This was the final mission.

From now on, he’s simply John Price.

A man craving to settle down with his beloved.

The girl who instinctively snuggles into him the moment he lies down. Whose presence soothes and dispels the worst of his ghosts. Who drives his determination to improve himself day by day.

To do better as a man rather than a captain.

To be the best husband he can be.

Until then, John is as he is now.

Exhausted yet perfectly content.

Next to his fiancée.

Home.

#John Price #Captain John Price #Captain John Price x Reader #John Price x Reader #CoD x Reader #CoD MW #CoD MW Price

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veemeow · 10 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ 18+ Love & Deepspace NSFW Headcanons 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ feel free to ask any questions or offer any input! this is purely for fun :) This is my first time writing something like this out so be kind pls lol

Xavier -> Zayne -> Rafayel -> Sylus

hc's written with fem!mc in mind, but the majority of points here can be read neutrally :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡

Xavier

Xavier is extremely affectionate and clingy. Out of all the MLs, he is the most physical

Has the highest libido

Messy when doing the deed- will start out slow, gentle, but gets rougher or more intense

Can go several rounds, fall asleep, and then pick up where you left off lol

He's quite sensitive behind his ears.

Loves when you grasp and touch at his chest and abdomen when he's in you.

Is somewhat vocal- he'll start out quiet at first, with more breathes and grunting, but he'll softly moan and whimper as you continue.

LOVES when you're vocal, breathing and moaning in his ear

He's big on sensory stimulation! (See: no restraint memory)

Lots of heavy breathing and sounds bouncing on the walls lolol

His two favorite positions are missionary and having you on his lap. His hands grasp and squeeze your body, he buries himself in your neck, plants kisses on you wherever he can, and leaves very little distance between you two

Xavier is 1000% a munch. If he's not inside you, he wants to be devouring you.

Prefers hand jobs over blowjobs. I don't think he'd care much for blowjobs, but he would accept and enjoy it if you gave him one. He just prefers [previous bullet point]

Loves when you squeeze your thighs around his face, press his face between your legs, and tug on his hair while he eats you out.

He gazes at you constantly; watching your reactions

He likes to nibble and nip at your skin, especially around your neck and collarbone- he'll leave hickeys in a few spots; your collarbone, the space on your neck below your ear, and the nape of your neck, the dip of your shoulder ; areas with visibility. He'll say he didn't mean to like a liar

He likes to nibble and kiss at sensitive areas where you might be a little ticklish, to make you smile. If you do the same though, he'll smile but you'll be riling him up to keep going or want more

"Please?" ; "Tell me you love me" ; "I'm yours" ; "I love you" (over and over and over) ; "You're mine" [jealous/possessive] ; "Does that feel good?" ; "You taste/feel so good"

Loves when you hold his head, cup his face, etc!

He likes to cum on your stomach.. at times he'll place himself between your thighs, using them or his hand to get off and spill onto you.

He's a huge cuddler, and when you fall asleep he's happy to spoon or be spooned. But it's hard to leave his grasp.

He's in heaven when you just lay your entire body weight on him

He's not much for PDA, but he tends to maintain close proximity to you, and will lay his head on you. Will lock arms or hold hands occasionally, but I see his affection being more light in public, unless other people aren't around.

Zayne

Has the lowest libido.

He's likes to service you, but will switch so you can take the lead.

He enjoys servicing you, but he likes (and prefers) when you initiate intimacy with him.

You have had him tie your hands above your head or behind you while he explores your body- he particularly likes gently complimenting you as he kisses you softly. Besides this, your intimate life is actually very vanilla and soft

"Every part of you is beautiful" ; "You don't know what you do to me" ; "Does that feel good?" ; "This part here, and this part here... [as he trails is hands and fingers down your chest, stomach, and so on.. Planting kisses as he goes]"

Plays with your nipples the most, using lots of tongue stimulation

He's not really one for hickeys or leaving marks behind

He enjoys having you take the lead- when you straddle him, kiss his neck and chest, and tease him about if it feels good or if he wants more.

He's the most sensitive physically! His chest and stomach are particularly sensitive, and ofc especially his Peenus lol. I don’t think he’s ticklish he’s just touch starved and very reactive (in his own way)

He's not very vocal, and instead breathes heavily and grunts a lot- but you can manage a moan out of him when giving him oral.

He's the most gentle out of all the MLs, he never handles you roughly and prefers the same from you. Your sexual relationship is best described as gentle.

He's not big on PDA, but when you two are alone together, he enjoys having you casually on him- on his lap, resting your legs on him, his head on your lap, etc. He finds comfort in the simple, but secure forms of affection that you two reserve for each other.

He views sex as a very intimate and personal act, and prefers to do it intentionally.

Rafayel

His libido is ??? He alternates between periods where he can go without sex / not care much for it, and becomes a sex machine.

Out of all the MLs, he is the most vocal in bed. He's not very good at hiding his reactions anyway, he gets shy and embarrassed.

He loves being teased. He's quite sensitive overall, especially around his ears and between his thighs. If you caress or fondle any part of his body, he's quick to blush. His chest is also v sensitive

He's not particularly dominant or submissive. I think he can be quite forward and take the lead, but he just as well is willing to let you take initiative as well.

Rafayel is quite the romantic- he'll go out of his way to set the mood, set up candles and music, and even buy you lingerie.

He loves lingerie and having you straddle and tease him. Grinding on his hips and fiddling with his shirt until the buttons are undone, or sliding your hands beneath it. All the while, his hands grasp your thighs

He likes when you leave hickeys on his neck and chest.

Enjoys blowjobs and handjobs. If you edge him, he'll say you're bullying him.

Rafayel likes having you on top of him the most; on his lap as you grind on him or in cowgirl position. He'll play with your g-spot as you ride him.

Wants you to look at him while doing the deed, but he has a tendency of looking away himself since he flushes easily. He loves looking into your eyes though during and after.

He likes to kiss your face the most, and even gentle kisses with him feel passionate.

He enjoys bathing with you! Not necessarily as a sexual thing, but as a form of intimacy and comfort. It makes him feel secure and closer to you.

He's the type where you can laugh together while being intimate. You can joke and tease each other and not lose momentum!

"Hold me" ; "Please [xmultiple]" ; 'Kiss me" ; "You're everything to me" ; "You won't be able to forget me" ; "Please don't look away"

Sylus

His libido is also ???

He's not one to go out of his way to be physically affectionate with you normally, but he enjoys (and wants) you to cling onto him.

He's very dominating and loves to tease.

Sylus can go several rounds just to change positions or service a different part of you. He's a service top all around imo.

Does lots of nipple play and loves seeing you squirm with his fingers in you

He likes to cum inside you or between your thighs.

If you gives him a blowjob or handjob, he easily begins to flush. he'll gently caress your head as you go at it.

He likes when you manhandle him a bit- holding his chin in your hand, caressing his lips, pushing his chest or hands down, things of that nature

Sylus is a biter. He particularly likes biting the side of your neck, shoulder, and between your thighs. He'll also leave hickeys on your chest and between your thighs as he nips at the skin.

He likes when you bite back- if he has you on this lap with his member inside you, he relishes the sting of you biting down on his shoulder when cumming.

He's the type to whisper sweet nothings to you, caress your head, and cup your face as he fingers or penetrates you.

He can be quite gentle when he kisses you- his kisses almost feel chaste. He'll trail kisses around your face, to your jaw, neck, and so on.

His stronger kisses are passionate- he'll nip at your lips, hold your jaw, and eventually stick his tongue in.

He enjoys having you sitting up on his lap, so he can see your face and hold onto you. He's 1000% the type to make you face him so he can see your reactions.

He also likes hitting it from the back and squeezing your thighs.

Like Zayne, he's not very vocal. Sylus just breathes and grunts lo but you can manage do get a light groan out of him if you edge him enough.

He will tease you about being too loud, telling you to keep it down- all the while pleasuring you to entice stronger reactions.

Sylus engages in sex intentionally. He doesn't always go all in, but if you're feeling horny, he's happy to entertain you with his mouth or fingers. He doesn't feel compelled to "receive" every time if he's not feeling up to it.

He'd be open to light BDSM, but I'm personally not too familiar or into it- I think he'd be open to try restraints or things of that nature, but I personally don't see him doing anything that could be potentially harmful. He wouldn't really be the type to degrade you either.

I'm thinking a gun would only be involved in the scenario where he would watch you pleasure yourself with a gun similar to that scene in Beef. iykyk lol

He'd totally use ice to stimulate you. He'd let it melt on you and rub it around just to hear your breath hitch.

He's a master of aftercare. He can go several rounds since his stamina is high, but recognizing that you're a normal person he's comfortable adapting to your limits.

He loves when you lay on his chest and rest your head on his heart. He'll often comb his fingers through your hair or simply rub your back and shoulders.

On the flipside, he'll 'allow' you to lull him to sleep if you do the same.

I imagine Sylus as quite the gentle lover overall, taking care to give you a passionate experience, and making you feel cared for.

"Good girl" ; "You're doing so well" ; "You like that?" ; "You feel so good" ; "I want you, I need you" ; "Tell me what you want" ; "Don't look away.." ; "I'm all yours / Only yours" ; "Relax, you can handle it"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

I did my best to remain true to the characters overall! I wonder if it's obvious Xavier is my favorite ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ I didn't want to emphasize a lot of BDSM/kink-play with Sylus, b/c even though his character is definitely freakayy compared to the rest, I'm just not interested in delving into it. Zayne's character is the hardest for me to write for since he's very reserved so I did my best ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ And Rafayel I am still getting to know.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #headcanons

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