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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

hii, i absolutely loved your “yes ma’am” jj one shot, just wanted to say that if you plan on writing more of that i would really really love to read it :) idk if you take requests but if you do feel free to interpret this as one i guess, even tho it’s not very specific 😭 sorry i’m not good at this but anyways i hope you have a very good day !!

baby boy

this can be read as a part two, or seperately from this

jj maybank x reader / masterlist

summary; the boy that you have intimate instructs with shows up at your door, after getting in an altercation with his father. you make him feel better, by proceeding to do more than patch him up / warnings; domestic abuse, jj’s dad is a piece of shit, mummy kink, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, titty sucking

“Let me make you feel good.” JJ was a state, he was bruised black and blue, the injuries having endured the soothing chill of ice to help reduce the pain. Though he still winced as he sat up straighter, staring at you. A frown caused discord to contribute to his features, as he became distracted by the other things he would wish to do to you.

It was a passion of his to be between your legs, delivering supple amounts of pleasure. Since the first time he had done such a deed with you, he was put on quite the tantrum if he wasn’t allowed to. A pout coursed the pursing of his lips, enforcing you to tut at his demeanour.

Though tonight, if you were sure he could handle such matters, you would go easy on him. Usually you took great pride in littering hand prints along his body, more specifically his ass, but for now he had enough bruises creating a discourse in his skin. You wished you had an eraser, so that you could remove all the endurances that he had survived, as well as to make his horrid father disappear entirely from the picture.

JJ deserved vastly better, and you were going to take care of him, as long as he consented of course. He needed to absorb the fact that life was not all pain, even for pogues, there were things to take pleasure in, such as the beauty of the collaboration of human bodies; it was a force of nature, endured through fusion of conspired cruelty.

Everyone knew of the circumstances that the blond managed to survive in, half the time, he spent the time of his slumber beneath his friend John B’s unstructured roof, or like now, under yours, a place that he felt safe, and secured in the setting.

Here, there was no need for him to be fearful, it was a shelter for him to fawn in, to feel free to bare the nasty inflammation of purple digress across his chest, and the split in his brow that would take a couple of weeks to completely heel.

The bruises, swollen like forbidden plums, etched out of his body, staring you in the face, though, it only served as a fatal reminder of his father’s subject to inflict pain. Though his anger and resented ways of parenting were induced by heroine, filtering his veins with a poisonous role as a boy’s father.

There was emotion surfing upon the tide of JJ’s azure eyes, brill by the pain that resonated within the waves, permitting rolls of sorrow to persevere out from his forlorn irises, sending signals of unmistakable endurance towards you, as though he were pleading to be comforted.

Briskly, he nodded his head, without words, saying that he was fine with the matter of you making him feel better; in fact, the desire of being held, and soothed, was rather intent, twisted with the feeling of being carved into a motion of forgetting the rash circumstances that had permitted him to be taken in, and nurtured by your soft hands.

His nose burrowed into your shoulder, nestling into the locks that cascaded down, the shallow breaths that he took granting him to breathe normally for a second. Each time that he shut his eyes, he pictured the scene; it was on the porch, mid morning. He was just about to creep in, and grab any supplies that he had left in his room.

But his father had been waiting for his late arrival, sitting on the chair with disappointment written all over his face. It was terrifying, and what with JJ being the way he was, he did not even attempt to bite back words, instead he allowed his mouth to run freely, resulting in the morbid beating, that had his bones aching.

The treatment was a regular occurrence, but this was cusping his mindset to be scathed, even when he was in your presence, cooped up in his safety net of your physical contact, the abusive actions flickering far behind his eyes, like a silent movie that had him keening out for something more optimistic in referral to his future.

As your had slid down his flushed skin, he gulped, almost moaning out at the tenderness that your hand attributed alongside his beaten flesh. He felt like he had endured a battle, and he was lucky to have gotten out alive. The remnants of the war were scattered about like a platter of marble, there were lines striking his exterior, creating a crack in his appearance, as though he were broken, and he sure as hell felt that way.

But you wouldn’t allow him to think like that; he was not broken. Instead he was tarnished, but there was still chance of having the certification to be repaired. And you would do anything to make JJ, your sweet boy, feel obscenely better. He deserved the world, yet with the brunt of it, he had been handed life on a stick, carrying his burdens around like a ploy.

It was the price all that were born on the cut paid, enforcing the image of the figure eight to appear like a paradise, with strong walls to hide behind, and grave teams of people that would willingly support them, whether they were neighbours, of friends, or coworkers, or anyone. And not to mention, they had the dough to hire lawyers and attorneys to respond with privilege in defence of their actions.

The lower your hand crept down, as though it were preying for something to attain a hardy grip on, the more erect JJ’s cock became. He could feel himself twitch in his boxers, for that was all that he was clothed in, the fragrance of your shampoo seeping through the breaching of his nostrils only aiding the ramifications of his pulsating length, that was growing by the second.

To adjourn his frustrations out, JJ knew that he was not supposed to wisp his fingers through your hair, and thus instead, he bunched up the sheets beside him that were stretched out like a layer of monotone and neutral land, lightly rutting his hips in an upwards motion, hoping, even mindlessly praying, that you would shift your attention to the prodding that was expedited from the inside of his underwear.

“Oh baby boy, it’s okay. I’m here, and I am going to take real good care of you.” You spoke as you noticed his crotch standing to attention, and him whimpering for the same eye drawing scenario. From your condemned statement, a slither of colour paved his face, mostly concentrated on his cheeks.

Your JJ was inherently blushing, the heat crawling over and under his flesh, as though he were embarrassed by how quickly he had gotten aroused. However, there was no need for him to be, and you assured him by pressing firm kisses along his jaw line, nipping lightly on the skin, and tugging with restraint upon it.

Slipping from his lips, a guttural groan fumbled out, purchasing a content smile to break out onto your face. The distraction was plentiful, more so as your hand cupped his bulge, gently stroking the top through the material with the pad of your thumb. It was a circuit of stimulation, erupting a course of pleasure through his veins.

“Don’t wanna- mummy.” He whined, making you cock your head in staged dominance, glancing down at him, as he pleasingly held his gaze upon you, with his jaw tipped up so that he could get the best perspective of your face.

“Don’t wanna what baby?” You lightly tease him, causing his heart to rapidly flutter as you continue to caress him through the red of his boxer shorts. There was a visible patch of precum on the crimson material, soaking through the layer, as he languidly rolled his hips, and to exhibit him further comfort, you leant down, tasting its sweet salted flavour in your tongue as you ran your tongue over the fabric.

Tugging at the rim of his underwear, you watched as his cock flipped out of the confines, bobbing up on the canvas of his stomach, with the layer of precum swiped over his tip, a little stretched down the ways of his length.

“I want to eat you, taste you.” He sniffled lightly, whining in a higher pitch, as he muffled his pleads into your neck. In turn to his nonchalant begging, you were coerced to rub your thighs together, unintentionally warming the slick that had gathered between them, it was hot to see his desperation.

“Mummy, please.” Light tears corrupted his eyes, he was on the edge of combusting from lack of getting what he wanted, and you didn’t have the heart, or lack of to deny him, especially after what had sourly happened to him, in the habit of his own family home.

As you went to peel his boxers all the way down his legs, about to untangle them from around his ankles, JJ urgently began to tug at your clothes. He could see that you had given into his wish, you were going to allow him to flick his hungry to please tongue over your slit, and he was eager to do so, as was quite obvious by the way he screwed the bottom of your shirt up in his hands, rolling the material in his fists.

“Patience baby boy.” From your soothing command, he calmed, and you threaded your hands through his hair, as a reward for his obliged cooling of behaviour. Slowly, as you leant your chest close to him, you remove your blouse, and from the soon proximity that you were in to JJ, he began to suck your tits through your bra.

A tut abandoned your mouth, and lightly with gentle might you pushed him back, to remove the last layer on your upper half, allowing him to return in his commencing of suckling on your nipples, as though he were a newborn, starved and inclined to feed. In the meantime of JJ salivating your nubs, you shifted out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing more than your panties.

His head ran down, his lips laddering down the steady rising slate of your stomach, down to between your thighs, his mouth succulently nipping over the thin layer of your panties, he remained there for a moment as you panted from the sensation, before rolling him over, and turning, so that whilst he feverishly tugged your panties to the side, you leant your head down, eyeing his cock.

Your hand trailed down to his appendage, swiftly tugging on his length, causing high pitched tones to emit from his busy lips, the vibrations muffled against your cunt, trying his utmost to devour your flow of juices. Enclosing your lips around his cock, you steadied your hips around the portrayal of his head, taking bit by bit further down your throat.

To add to his specifics of pleasure, you rolled his balls in the palms of your hand, rotating your fingers around the sack below his length, and thus you pulled you lips off from around him for a moment, to lick a line up the seam of it, before returning to deep throating his cock.

A few more bobs of your head had JJ finishing in your mouth, and for a minute, you rolled his seed around in his mouth as you thrusted yourself hips against his face, chasing your own high as you swallowed his.

“Wanna make mummy cum. Want to taste her sweet, sweet mummy juice.” Gripping onto his waist, you furiously rode his face, releasing a small, supple scream as you finished on his beautiful complexion. He toyed his tongue around your folds, soaking up every drop of your essence with his tongue.

With a heavy breath, you clambered off from him after cumming, a content smile prevailed on your face as you stretched your arm across to the bedside table, grasping up the packet of cleansing wipes, and retracted one from it, using them to wipe your juices off from his face, sweeping up the excess that was glossing his chin.

After disposing of the used wipes, you tucked JJ under the sheets, bringing him to lay against your chest, as you applied a kiss upon his forehead. His blue eyes fluttered closed, as he began to suck on your tits again, aiding him in having calm dreams, and forget about the troubles that had haunted him.

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valdomarx · 4 years

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The first time Geralt thinks about kissing Jaskier is in a packed, seedy tavern. The patrons are rowdy, the ale is watery, and the air is damp and sweaty. And yet, there’s Jaskier, joyously commanding the entire room as he performs, winking at audience members as he swans gracefully between the tables.

His hips sway to the beat of the music and his feet bounce across the floor, full of irrepressible energy. As he segues from one verse to the next, he pauses for a second and licks his lips. Geralt follows the movement precisely, entranced as the pink tip of his tongue flicks across plump, plush lips.

He’s hit by the urge to take Jaskier into his arms and press their lips together, to kiss him firm and deep and to feel that tongue playing into his mouth. He can almost picture it: Jaskier’s eyes widening at first and then crinkling with satisfaction, the little hitch of his breath, the softness of those lips against his own.

Coming back to himself, Geralt shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He has no idea where that strange thought came from. Best to put it aside and ignore it.

The next time it happens, the air is clear and there are stars overhead. It’s a warm Beltane evening and the local villagers are celebrating with wine and music and dancing. Geralt sits on a bench and observes while Jaskier, who has yellow flowers braided into his hair, dances around a maypole with a bright red ribbon in hand.

There’s a moment when he looks up and catches Geralt’s eye, and the tiniest smile flicks across his lips. It’s not one of his big, crowd-pleasing grins, or the flirtatious smirk he flashes when he’s on the prowl. It’s a tiny, genuine thing, a signal of real warmth and care, the kind given out rarely, making it all the more precious.

Geralt imagines standing and joining the dancers, Jaskier giving him that smile again. He imagines leaning in, inhaling that scent of lavender and road dust, running a hand through his hair, and kissing the smile from his lips. He’d smell like campfires and he’d taste like sweet wine.

He should have been faster. He should have been smarter. He should have known the bruxa had a mate, and he should have been ready to fight two rather than one.

But recriminations won’t help him now, as he’s bleeding out in a damp stone cellar. The Swallow he’s taken will slow his heart rate, but the gash in his side where he was swiped with sharp claws is too deep and he won’t survive the blood loss.

It’s a stupid, pointless way to die.

And then a beam of light spears through the cellar as the shutters are thrown open and a familiar face appears, peering into the darkness.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s nose wrinkles as he tries to see in the dark. “Are you... oh gods...”

Relief washes over Geralt like sliding into a warm bath. Everything will be okay now that Jaskier is here. Even though Jaskier’s breath is heaving and his hands shake as he presses a linen pad to Geralt’s side, he knows what to do.

Jaskier leans over him, takes his face in his hands. “Geralt, stay with me,” he begs.

Geralt wants to tell Jaskier that he’ll always stay with him. He wants to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. He wants to kiss the unhappy twist off his lips.

But he can’t do any of those things with blood pouring out of his side, so instead, he passes out.

The winter has been long and cold and lonely, and even the other wolf witchers could only distract Geralt for so long. For weeks he’s been itching to head south, to greet the sun and the Path, and most importantly to meet Jaskier once again. It’s a thrumming want inside him, one that barely whispers its intentions even as it drives him forward along the roads of Velen.

And then, on a beaten path outside an unremarkable village, he spots him: Jaskier, shining like a jewel in bright clothing which is eclipsed only by the brightness of his smile. There’s something so familiar about the sight of his bard on the dusty road that Geralt’s heart leaps in his chest.

Before he has time to think, Geralt’s feet are carrying him forward and he’s sweeping Jaskier into his arms, lifting him off the ground, hugging him close as he squeals and giggles.

He sets him carefully back on his feet and basks in the warmth of his presence, admiring the way Jaskier ducks his head and the bashful grin that lifts his cheeks.

Geralt wants, with a powerful yearning that’s been building all winter, to take his beautiful face in his hands and to kiss him with all the longing he’s been burying away all this time.

For a moment he feels like he might finally have the courage to follow through. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head, feels the soft curls of his hair between his fingers, enjoys the look of surprise and delight on Jaskier’s face as he tilts his chin up to face him.

But... his mind supplies. What if it’s unwanted? What if he’s misread the situation? What if he messes up the one solid friendship he has?

He falters.

Jaskier registers the second that Geralt’s doubts arrive, when he draws back into himself and retreats from their embrace.

“Oh, hell no,” he says, earning a surprised bark of a laugh from Geralt.

Jaskier has been waiting months for this, even before his long, boring winter at Oxenfurt. Months of noting the way that Geralt looks at him, the way his eyes will flick to his lips at intense moments. Months of holding himself back, resisting his own urges, letting Geralt come to him.

He’s done waiting.

“I missed you,” he says, and Geralt’s hands squeeze him a little tighter, betraying his emotions even as he works to keep his face impassive. “And I think you missed me too.”

He lifts his hand to cup Geralt’s cheek, and Geralt goes very, very still, barely breathing. A few years ago Jaskier would have taken that for a rebuke, but he knows Geralt better by now. He’s holding himself back from what he thinks he shouldn’t want.

“Silly witcher,” he chides, and kisses him.

Geralt is still as stone beneath his lips, and Jaskier has just enough time to wonder if he’s made a terrible mistake. But then Geralt is pulling him closer and kissing him back as if he’s been starving for it, lips and teeth and tongue, hands clasping at his back and running into his hair like he wants to touch everywhere at once.

They’re both panting by the time they pull apart, and Jaskier can’t help but match Geralt’s dopey smile.

“It’s good to see you too, Geralt.”

#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #hmm once again it is *checks watch* loving jaskier hours

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (7)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(I know y’all are getting tired of waiting for Techno to arrive, so am I! But I have no solid control over the story plot lol but I swear it’ll happen soon!! And y’all know the drill! Reblogs and comments keep this story going. So if you want a chapter 8 then please show this chapter some love! <3)

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(FORGOT TO MENTION ART!

The amazing 'YeetUsFeTUSDelETusss' on DA was so cool and drew two pictures to bless our eyes!!)

READER HERSELF!

READER PROTECTING HER BOYS!

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Only Tubbo showed up the next day, and he said he sadly couldn’t stay for long because him and Tommy were needed back at L’manburg for a while. Meaning him and Tommy wouldn’t be able to visit for a bit, but they’d try to visit as soon as possible! Hearing they’d not come see you for who knows how long made you pretty sad. You honestly looked forward to when they’d visit. It was honestly the highlight of your day. But you knew whatever nonsense was going on in L’manburg currently would need their attention. Though you wondered what exactly was going on. You recalled a decent amount of the ‘history’ of the Dream SMP but you knew you could be misremembering or even mixing things up. But you did remember the big things that happened. Like the wars and stuff. So needless to say you were concerned.

‘What point in history am I in right now? Whenever it is, L’manburg is apparently still standing,’ you thought pensively before asking Tubbo what was going on that they’d need to stay in L’manburg.

Tubbo sighed and said it was ‘just some drama’ but apparently their, meaning his and Tommy’s, older brother figure Wilbur had been president of L’manburg for the entirety of the time L’manburg had existed. But some new citizens who joined them found out he’d not been properly elected and didn’t think it was fair to everyone that Wilbur had basically just made himself president without any input from everyone else. Which you could see was not right but this information told you that you were in the pre-election time. Which meant Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won yet… But that hinged on this universe even being the same one that you’d watched on youtube. Things could be different here for all you knew. You’d always believed in the multiverse theory so who was to know WHICH universe this was. Or how you even got here. All you could do really was to just… wait and watch.

A couple hours passed during the short visit and towards the end Tubbo showed you how to message others, ie; him and Tommy mostly. You’d known how to message others and put in commands and stuff in regular minecraft but you’d just sort of never thought to try those things here in this place. Though to be fair you’d been dealing with a lot of stuff so fiddling with your inventory and everything hadn’t been your top priority. And when he’d mentioned messaging him your first thought had been ‘how?’, because this was a ‘real life’ minecraft, where things were very similar but not always exactly like how it was in the real game. The biggest difference being that there was no computer keyboard or ‘screen’ for the type/chat option to be at the bottom of like in the game.

But to your surprise the place to type in a message was actually IN your inventory. More specifically it was at the very bottom of the main section right below where your items were stored in the hot bar. You’d never paid the long ultra thin box at the bottom any mind, assuming it was just part of the weird design. But no, Tubbo showed you with his inventory how if you tap on the thin box (that you’d honestly thought was just a line) it expands into a typing window! Your eyes widened at that and watched as he tapped the typing box again and a little keyboard appeared below the typing box and he started typing something into it. You squinted and he said to message someone you needed to be sure to type ‘/msg’ and then whoever’s name you’d like to send the message to!

He demonstrated this by typing out the first part then right after it typing your ‘name’; aka Reader. Briefly you wondered why it had been made that but you brushed that thought away to focus on what Tubbo was doing. You saw him type ‘hi reader!!’ before hitting Enter. Then a second later you heard a soft ‘ping!’ sound and you just KNEW your inventory was waiting to be pulled up. Like knew in an instinctual sense. Like how you knew to blink or how to walk. Just an instinct you couldn’t explain so you brought it up and there at the bottom the ‘line’ was flashing a pale red. So you did what Tubbo had done and tapped it, revealing the little typing box. Only this time it had a message in it! It said, ‘Tubbo whispers to you: hi reader!!’ and you smile. Excited now you type out a message to him and hit send. He got it and laughed after he read it.

‘Reader whispered to you: hello my little goat boy!! :)’

After that he blinked when more messages popped onto his text box. These were from Tommy and Wilbur it looked like. With a sigh he checked his clock and dismissed his chat box before saying he was sorry but he had to get going. He’d actually stayed longer than he was supposed to. You were sad to see him go but knew he’d be back, and hey, now you could message him and Tommy to make sure they got back to L’manburg safe instead of just wondering like before. So you told him to be careful on his way back and to message you that he was safe home when he arrived, and also if he needed any help. He laughed and cheekily said he would but gave a shy smile when you pulled him into a hug and gently knocked your antlers with his horns, but he happily returned it. Not so secretly enjoying the affection. But he had to pull back and leave.

That left you to your own devices.

-0-

With nothing better to do you initially spent the next three days building a couple fountains in the village (which was getting pretty big..). One tiny frog shaped one in the little grotto at the west side of the village and a much larger more traditional one in the opposite side of the village. You’d even set up park benches, flower plots, lamp posts, and stone sidewalk around the bigger one. It was very pretty and the villagers seemed to be enjoying it. But after that was done you’d sorta gotten bored. You weren’t really inspired to do anything else to the village so you thought of ways to occupy yourself. Eventually a metaphorical lightbulb flickered to life above your head and you got an idea.

You could go to the Nether!

Sure you weren’t the biggest fan of the place but it beat sitting around twiddling your thumbs waiting for a reply from your only two friends like some loser. And hey, you liked giving piglins gold. They made cute little piggy snorts when they were happy. So with that loose plan in mind you got up from where you’d been lounging by the creek and brushed yourself off before heading out to the place outside the bamboo and prickle berry wall you’d placed the first Nether portal. You crafted one real quick before tensing up when you heard the sound of rustling behind you. Assuming it was a creeper or something you glanced back, not that it would hurt you but you still found it unsettling for anything to be sneaking up behind you. You caught a brief glimpse of something small and white disappearing into a cluster of ferns. You paused, wondering what it was but then about a block to the left of the ferns a chicken and her chick walked out from around a tree. ‘Oh, must have just been a baby chicken’, you thought with a mental shrug before turning back to your task of lighting the portal with your flint and steel.

Once activated you stepped into the purple swirling mist and your vision warped before you ended up in the Nether again, stifling heat and all.

-0-

You’d been exploring the Nether for what felt like hours. The place was goddamn enormous! You’d followed the same sand block trail from the last time you’d been here, seeing the piglins and a few striders along the way. And to your delight a familiar little piglin baby started following you. She (you think she’s a ‘she’, that’s the vibe you’re getting anyways) had to be the one you’d played with the last time you’d been in the Nether. You crouched down and patted her head and pulled a golden carrot from your inventory before gifting it to her. She squealed happily and munched on it. You kept walking along the sand path before reaching the fortress. That’s when you diverted your path to the right and started exploring that way, careful to keep laying down sand as you did. You thought the baby piglin had stayed back but after a while of walking you heard a soft snort and glanced down to the left of you to see her happily trotting along with you, still nibbling on the golden carrot.

You wanted to melt, she was such a cutie pie. You stopped and asked if she should be travelling so far away. Won’t her parents miss her? She blinks and seems to understand you before shaking her head ‘no’. You figure she must have some pretty lenient parents. But you suppose piglins are sturdier than humans so it makes sense they’d keep their kids on a looser leash than humans would. So you ask her where her parents are and if they’d be okay with her wandering off with you, a stranger. She tilts her head and shrugs. You purse your lips and ask if she can take you to her parents so you can ask if they’d be okay with it. This time she shakes his head no. So you ask her why and she seems to be thinking how to answer before she goes over to the closest block of sand and starts drawing in it. You look over her shoulder and see her drawing three hearts. Then your stomach sinks when you see her draw an ‘X’ over each heart, meaning one thing..

“Oh sweetie, did your parents lose all their lives?” you ask in a gentle tone.

The tiny piglin nodded and your heart broke for her. You asked some more questions and discovered she wasn’t really being taken care of by any one piglin. The other piglins knew her parents were gone so they’d sorta chip in to make sure she had food. But that was really it. This made you feel worse so you just sighed and patted her head and said she could join you while you explored the Nether. She snorted happily and you two continued on your way. Eventually after walking for a bit you came across a warped forest. You had to admit the biome was much prettier in person. The stark contrast between the Nether’s usual red color scheme and the teal of the warped forest was really beautiful. Even the weird little green/orange fungus that were growing everywhere were cute. You even picked a handful to keep, placing them in your inventory before continuing your little jaunt with the baby piglin.

That last thought made you mentally pause and realize that you couldn’t just keep calling this kid ‘baby piglin’. So you stopped walking and looked down before saying you forgot to introduce yourself. She could call you Reader (since that’s what your little name thing said..). Then you asked what her name was. She blinked before snorting a little, like she was clearing her throat, and said, “Azogamay.”

You smiled and said you liked her name, making her give a cute little tusked smile. Then as you continued exploring you both made small talk. Nothing deep (how deep could conversation get with a little kid) but you asked each other the usual questions. Like favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite animals, etc. Then Azo (you’d taken to shortening her name to make it easier) answered one of your questions with some gibberish that made you pause. You glanced down at her and gave a ‘huh?’ that made her giggle before apparently remembering you weren’t a piglin. She said she forgot and spoke Piglin. That made you raise your eyebrows because you’d never thought about other species in the game having their own language. But now that you were thinking about it, it totally made sense. Of course they would, duh. Now very curious you asked her to teach you a little! Like did she know how your name would be said in Piglin? Her answer surprised you…

“Eaderray!” she said in her quiet baby voice.

Now you two had entered a wide soul sand valley, which made Azo anxious. She hid behind your leg, making you recall that Piglins didn’t really spawn in this biome or like soul fire (which is super common here). You had to admit the place was rather creepy. It didn’t help that the soul sand beneath your feet was emitting a rather creepy whispery wail. So you decided to turn back and try another direction. Azo seemed relieved and trotted along behind you. But once you were walking again you remembered your last thought and had a vague feeling about this ‘piglin speak’ and wanted to hear more. So you asked Azo some other words, just to test this theory of yours. And well…

Skeleton? Eletonskay…

Blaze? Azeblay…

Strider? Iderstray…

Lava? Avalay...

Gold? ...Oldgay (that may have made you snicker).

But you got the idea and honestly you cannot be held accountable for your reaction after you realized Piglins honest to fucking god spoke PIG LATIN.

You lost it. You laughed so hard you doubled over and had to brace your hands on your knees to keep from collapsing onto the ground. Azo didn’t know what was so funny but your laughter was contagious and she ended up laughing too, intermixed with little snorts that made you laugh even harder. It was a whole cycle. And by the end of it you’d laughed so hard you started coughing and had to sit down to catch your breath. The giggles returned a couple times but eventually you got control over yourself enough to be able to breathe normally again. As you sat there, little Azo looking up at you in amusement, you couldn’t believe the absolute batshit nonsense that was happening in your life right now. But out of everything that had happened, you think finding out Piglins spoke pig latin had to be the funniest. Though you wanted to test your theory further so you said to Azo,

“Ellohay Azogamay, isyay isthay ightray?”

Azo’s eyes brightened and she perked up, looking close to bouncing from excitement as she realized you were speaking ‘Piglin’ to her. She started babbling at the speed of light, in a way that all excited toddlers seemed to be able to do. While it was cute enough to pull a chuckle from you the downside was that you could not understand a single word Azo said. You got her to slow down, telling her you didn’t speak Piglin fluently so she would have to go slow with you otherwise you’d be lost. She nodded, just happy that you could understand Piglin. So she slowed down a lot and chatted with you that way. And that’s pretty much how the rest of your time in the Nether went. You traversed through the hellish dimension and brushed up on your pig latin with the little piglin.

It has definitely been a LONG time since you’d even thought about the made up ‘language’. You’d had a friend in elementary school who had been Obsessed with it. It was all they spoke sometimes and they’d talked it up so much that it caught on with the rest of the class, yourself included, and soon everyone was using it to write notes to each other, like a secret language. You’d even speak to each other only in pig latin during recess and lunch breaks. You’d been fluent in it and didn’t even have to think before speaking. Though after a year it had lost its popularity and everyone slowly stopped using it since the fad was over. But you still remembered a good deal of it. Enough to speak it slowly anyways. But the more you used it the easier it was to speak it. It was like riding a bike you supposed, you never truly forgot it.

-0-

Things were going fine until they weren’t. You’d stopped to have lunch in a crimson forest, more for Azo’s benefit than your own, and were sitting and eating for a while before Azo started playing with a baby hoglin. Which had been fine, you’d seen baby piglins and hoglins do that in the game before, no biggie. But they’d gotten rambunctious the way kids do when they’re playing together. And while chasing each other around Azo had smacked into one of the adult hoglins, which had pissed it off enough for it to snarl angrily and start chasing Azo. And Azo in turn began squealing in fear while running away. You’d dropped the steak you’d been idly munching on and sprinted after the two. Sadly the hoglin was closer to Azo than you and managed to get one good hit in with its tusks, the force behind it practically yeeting Azo up into the air. You yelled in horror as you watched the baby piglin fall down into a lava filled ravine.

Panic flooded your body, you knew zombie piglins were fireproof but regular piglins were not as far as you knew. Let alone baby piglins who just took a direct hit from a damn hoglin. So without thinking about it you dove into the ravine after Azo, catching her in your arms and fully planning to hold her up above the lava since it wouldn’t hurt you. Once she was in your arms you jerked back instinctively, not sure why, just maybe bracing for the impact with the lava. You waited but… nothing. About that second you realized that you weren’t moving anymore. You’d come to a halt and at first you wondered if maybe you’d landed on a block and not noticed. But… one glance down revealed you were not in fact standing on a block. Actually you weren’t standing on anything. You were hovering about 3 or 4 blocks above the bubbling lava at the bottom of the ravine. You were so stunned that you almost missed the sniffling snorts that started up next to your face but thankfully they broke you out of your shocked state. You looked at Azo and your heart broke when you saw her tearing up and looking close to crying. Forgetting momentarily about whatever the fuck was going on with you floating you focused on soothing her.

“Aw sweetie, are you okay? You took a hit from that hoglin, where does it hurt?” you cooed.

She was babbling mostly, being too upset to try to speak English. And understanding crying pig latin was almost impossible. So you just asked her to point where it hurt. She reached for her back and side and you softly told her you were going to lift her shirt a little bit to see if there was a mark, and she nodded shakily and sniffled while you did. You winced at the blooming bruise and adjusted her so you were basically cradling her and with your free hand you opened your inventory and started looking through the potions. You grabbed a healing potion and uncorked it before offering it to Azo, whose snout wrinkled at the potion. You told her it was alright, it was a healing potion that would make her feel better and get rid of those bruises for her. She looked unsure but still let you raise the mouth of the potion bottle to her lips so she could sip it. She took a few sips before hiccuping, potion swirls wafting off of her after she did. The baby piglin blinked and felt the pain in her back and side start to disappear.

You smiled and said that must feel better, Azo nodded and was happy she wasn’t hurting anymore. You let her take one more sip for good measure before putting the cork back into the bottle and stashing it in your inventory. But once that was done you were reminded of your current predicament. You were still floating in place above a ravine of lava.. With zero clue on how to move too. Briefly you internally panicked at the thought of just.. never being able to move again!! Being stuck fixed in one spot forever with no way to get down or live freely! Though before you could panic further you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. This wasn’t permanent, it couldn’t be. There logically has to be a way for you to move. You got yourself stuck here and you’ll get yourself down as well.

And the last thing you wanted was to look scared with Azo here with you. She was just a little kid and needed the only adult around to be strong for her. So you put on a smile and reassured her that things will be okay and you’ll figure out how to get them both safe on land in no time. Azo nodded, looking less worried than before. So you started trying things you think would get you to move. You could move your limbs no problem. Proven by how you could move Azo around with your arms and kick your legs about without issue. But your body as a whole was still locked in place. Though when you leaned your upper body to the left you hit a breakthrough! Tilting your torso to the left managed to move your whole body to the left by about a block and a half! Now onto the right path you started leaning your torso this way and that, figuring out what movements actually got you moving and which ones didn’t. Figuring out how to move side to side and forwards and back was pretty easy. But it was figuring out up and down that was tricky.

At the moment going down was the last thing you were interested in, what with the lava beneath you. So you tried focusing on going up, and after a lot more wiggling about that you were sure made you look like an idiot to anyone who could be watching (Azo only giggled a little) you finally figured out that to go up you had to tense and stretch your torso a specific way. Like exactly how you would do if you were trying to reach something on the top shelf, only you didn’t have to move your arms or legs the same way, just your torso. Like how people straighten themselves to seem taller, not slouching at all. After getting that down you manage to go up and then over out of the ravine. Which was a relief and a half. Now that the threat of sinking into lava wasn’t a worry you instead fixated on getting down. Thanks to figuring out how to get up you had an easier time getting the hang of getting down.

Once your feet touched the ground the floating thing disappeared and gravity was restored to you, making you able to walk around normally again. You gave a small cheer, Azo snorting happily as you carried her back to your spot on one of the crimson mushroom tree tops. Once seated you let out a breath and felt your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even been aware they’d been so tense, but you guess it made sense what with how you just sorta had a weird physics related mishap. But now that you and little Azo were safe you felt like you could breathe again.

You took a golden apple out of your inventory and took a bite, the sweet juice soothing your metaphorical ruffled feathers. You noticed you mostly just eat for the taste now. Which was fine you guessed. When you glanced down you held the apple close to Azo’s face, asking in semi-good piglin if she wanted a bite, chuckling when she eagerly sunk her little teeth into the sweet fruity flesh of it. You gave her the rest and just watched the other Nether inhabitants mill about peacefully. Today had been a wild ride for sure. At least compared to your usual peaceful days. You leaned back against the lump of red fungus behind you, Azo cradled in your arms, and sighed calmly. You’d been ready to rest your eyes when you heard a soft ‘ping!’ that had you blinking back into focus. It was your communicator app thing. Thinking it was just Tubbo messaging you to say goodnight or something you casually opened the message. But when you did you raised an eyebrow at the note from your kid.

‘Tubbo whispers to you: the election is tomorrow afternoon, can you come?

‘Tubbo whispers to you: i’ve got a bad feeling.. i’m not trying to pull you into our mess’

‘Tubbo whispers to you: but idk i’d feel better if you were there.’

You had a bad feeling too… You hoped what you likely knew was going to happen DIDN’T happen but.. it probably was. So you sent back a quick reply to Tubbo.

‘You whisper to Tubbo: of course I will! you can show me around your home! :)

You tried to keep your reply upbeat and happy, not wanting to feed into the teenager’s worry. Even though you were probably more worried now that he was. But regardless.

It looked like you were visiting L’manburg.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur #piglin #piglin oc

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

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puppy love | l.jn

synopsis: in which a new chance at love crashes into you when you least expect it to genre: dog park!au, strangers to lovers!au, fluff pairing: lee jeno x gn!reader word count: 1,392

author’s note: happy jeno day, czennies! i hope you’ll find this drabble as sweet as the birthday boy! (this is unedited, i’ll look back at it later!)

Tired of seeing sulk about being lonely, your friends suggested something that sounded great at the time.

Get a dog, they said.

It’ll be a lot of fun, they said.

You always dreamed about having a pet.

Well, they forgot to mention how much work having a dog was. Terriers were mostly known to be low maintenance dogs that were moderately energetic--your pup did not fit into the norm.

Though small and compact, Nana was a hyperactive dog. A morning trip to the dog park often tired her out during the day, allowing her to sleep the majority of the time you were away at work. Playing with her granted you the exercise you desperately needed and while fun, you tired out very easily. There were times you wished for Nana to have a canine companion. You wished for it as much as you hoped to find a companion of your own.

Your friends and family also played with the idea of meeting someone and their pet at the dog park-- kill two birds with one stone--but that storyline was damn near impossible. The only other regulars you saw at the park were either coupled off or just not in your age range.

Nana began to whine as you drew closer to the gate, the dog insistently tugging against your hold. “Hold on, baby, we’re almost there,” you said groggily. Looking around the area, you noticed that none of the regulars were there that morning. Maybe it was because you came thirty minutes later than your usual time.

“Seems like your friends aren’t here today, Nana,” you said dejectedly as you opened the gate. That meant you had to play with her--your morning fix of coffee didn’t hit you yet and you hope you did soon. You couldn’t keep up with her when she was like this. Your dog rushed in, her paws scurrying from the paved sidewalk to the grass covered in morning dew. Her feet impatiently stomped as you slammed the gate shut, waiting for you to release her from her leash.

Hearing a loud bark, your head shot up to see a tall person in a hoodie running after a fluffy Samoyed that was heading your way. “Chief, wait!”

Just as you unbuckled Nana from her leash, the larger dog leaped in your direction, almost bulldozing over your smaller pet and straight into you. The unexpected impact was too much for you, sending you back into the wet grass. Large pants and a heavy weight kept you from getting up and you glanced to see that beautiful Samoyed hovering on top of you. Its tongue stuck out, tail wagging rapidly as it stared down at you before nudging your hand for some love. You laughed in astonishment before carding your fingers through its soft fur.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the owner profusely apologized as he reached you, “Chief still isn’t used to how large he is.” His voice was charming just as it was deep and once you caught his eye, your breath caught in your throat. If this dog was beautiful, then its owner was absolutely divine in the early morning light. His hood slid down to reveal more of his face, allowing you to see the man’s kind eyes, sharp features, and clear skin. His black hair was styled messily due to the hood but the look still suited him.

One rough pat to the Samoyed’s side was enough to nudge him away from you. “Let me help you up,” the handsome stranger said, offering his large hand out to you. You tentatively slid your hand into his hold before he pulled you back to your feet with little to no effort. “Thank you,” you said in reply to his kind action. You hoped he didn’t notice the embarrassed expression on your face.

“It’s no problem,” he smiled back, his eye scrunching into the cutest curves. He looked like the dog that just knocked you over. How was that even possible?

Dusting yourself off, you noted that Nana was no longer at your side. Just as you were about to shout for her, you found her playing happily with the Samoyed. “Oh good, I was afraid that she wouldn’t have a playmate during this time,” you let out a sigh of relief. Finding a need to explain yourself, you added, “I usually come earlier in the morning.”

“Decided to sleep in today?” the man asked with a teasing chuckle.

“Yeah, pretty sure I pressed my snooze button a couple of times,” you giggled.

“I usually come around this time but no one’s here,” he said, “It’s nice to see someone else at the park for a change.”

Before you knew what you were doing, you shot back with, “Maybe you should start coming earlier.”

With the same tone, he answered, “Or maybe you can keep hitting that snooze button.” You brought up your hand to cover your smile and mute the laugh that slipped through your lips.

Grinning at your positive response, the man extended a hand out to you. “I’m Jeno,” he started off. “And that, over there,” he gestured off to his Samoyed playing with Nana, “is Chief.”

Placing your hand in his rougher one again, you introduced yourself with a shy smile. “That little one is Nana.”

Jeno let out a loud snort and laugh before covering his lips. His shoulders shook as he tried to calm down. Shocked, you looked at him. There wasn’t anything wrong with that name, was there? You thought it to be quite adorable.

“Oh no, sorry for laughing. I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” he waved his hands to reassure you. “It’s just that my best friend’s nickname is Nana. His real name is Na Jaemin.”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Jeno lit up his home screen to show you a picture of him, another handsome man, and Chief smiling at the camera. “Cute,” you commented with a smile.

“Who-- Nana?”

His sudden question flustered you. “N-no, I mean, yes? I mean--”

“Damn, I was hoping you were referring to me,” he said, the grin on his face growing larger.

“Well, I mean, um--” Oh, this was so going well. A cute guy with a dog talks to you and you can’t even form a full sentence. Why were you like this?

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I was kidding.” He lightly patted your shoulder as you took a swig out of your water bottle. ‘Not going to lie, though, I was hoping you would say I was cute.”

You barely missed choking on your drink. “Oh my god, it’s too early for this,” you muttered under your breath. “I need more coffee.”

“Sorry, am I coming off too strong?” Jeno chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to flirt with someone.”

“So you admit that you’re flirting?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Yup,” you turned away to watch the two canines chase each other’s tails. “Definitely need more coffee.”

As if they knew you wanted to leave the park, your dogs charged towards you at full speed. Unlike before, Chief stopped right before your feet, tongue dipping into a bowl filled with water. He made space for your tinier dog to drink from the bowl as well, the two acting like best friends even though they just met thirty minutes prior. Tugging treats from your jacket pocket, you commanded them to do a couple of tricks before rewarding them as Jeno watching fondly in the background.

“Hey,” Jeno called, drawing your attention to the two dogs nosing your hand.

“Yeah?”

“You said you needed coffee, right? Wanna grab some with me? I know a good cafe down the road from here,” he offered a bit timidly, his ears turning a bright shade of pink. “It seems like the two little ones want to hang out more. I think they like each other, I’ve never seen Chief act this way with another dog before.”

You heard a couple of yelps and quickly shifted to see Chief and Nana playing tug of war with a tree branch.

“Must be puppy love, then. And yeah, I’d really like that.”

When Jeno smiled at you, you swore he shone brighter than the sun. “I’d really like that, too.”

#dreamwritersnet #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct imagines #lee jeno #jeno fic #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

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Tease (1/2)

Reader is fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decides to send some pictures to tempt him while he's away, but things don't quite go as they were planned.

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, slight dom/sub undertones

AO3 link here

Author’s note: Here’s the smut I promised! I’ll either post the second chapter tonight, or a different smut prompt partially inspired by @pala-din-djarin ;)

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3

Ch’eo ch’itiseb- my sweet

In the beginning, the plan was to tease your lover ever-so-slightly. Grand Admiral Thrawn had been away from the Chimaera for a week, and you were in no mood to be the last person in line for attention upon his return. Sady, Thrawn had been so busy the week before his departure that he had very little time to spend with you.

As a Commander, you, of course, had your own duties to attend to in his absence, but there was no denying you missed his touch a little more than usual during the unrelentingly long week. It was more than understandable for Thrawn to be busy; he was a Grand Admiral, after all, but it couldn’t hurt for you to remind him exactly what he was missing……

You would never do anything to jeopardize his ongoing mission. Still, he was just on Coruscant visiting the Imperial Palace, and you weren’t exactly above sending some choice pictures to him through an encrypted communication line. Did you know exactly what you were doing by putting on the fine, lacy lingerie he had gifted you but never got the chance to see? Absolutely, but then again… that was the whole point. You wanted him to feel exactly as desperate for you as you did for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you slipped the final stocking into place, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection in the mirror.

Ah, this should do nicely.

Red, lacy lingerie, which perfectly matched the shade of your lover’s eyes, trailed across your skin like flames. The bralette was mostly sheer, but it offered the perfect amount of support and framed your décolletage in a way you knew Thrawn would find delectable. The matching panties hugged your hips and were partially hidden below a thin belt made from the same lace, which circled your waist and connected to the stockings in the front and back.

You laughed mischievously as you turned to see how the outfit looked from the side reflection in the large mirror, “Oh, this should definitely work well.”

The stockings themselves rested perfectly on the soft swell of your upper thighs, a place you knew Thrawn loved to kiss and mark as his, and they framed your ass beautifully. You were beyond resplendent, a piece of art that he couldn’t have, and you were going to use it to tease him as much as possible. However, if you were actually going to do some real damage, the pictures needed to be convincing.

“What better way to make this authentic than to do it in his bed,” you mused out loud. Fortunately, the datapad could both take and encrypt the pictures, so all you had to do was prop it up on the bedside table and set the photo timer.

The setup was fairly easy for the first few pictures, but all your ideas for poses were running out before long. Then, another exciting thought crossed your mind.

I’ll just set it to video! I can freeze and save sections of it as the pictures; that’ll be absolutely perfect.

You reached up and set the datapad to the necessary specifications before returning to the edge of Thrawn’s bed. Taking the pictures had been building sensual anticipation under your skin, and it went straight to your core as you imagined your lover’s reaction to them. Just the thought of Thrawn, breathless with want and worlds away from having his hands on you…. Well, it was more than enough encouragement for you to hit the record button on the datapad.

The silken black sheets on his bed caressed your soft skin and added another layer of sensation to your already stimulated mind as you lay back down among them. You took a deep, tentative breath in; Thrawn’s intensely masculine scent seemed to be everywhere. It completely surrounded you, drawing you further into the seductive depths of your mind and triggered vivid memories of all the ways he’d taken you on top of them.

One such memory was his powerful form pressing your back deep into the sheets, fucking you at a relentless pace, and worrying the tender skin of your neck with his teeth. Another was of Thrawn bending you over the edge of the bed, pinning you in place with his strong arms as he ravished you from behind, all while whispering filthy sentiments in Cheunh into your ear. Finally, your memory turned to his head dipping between your thighs to drink you in as he drew his true name from your lips like a prayer to some forgotten god….

You glanced to the side, and the mirror on the opposite wall showed a glimpse of just how beautiful you looked, displayed like a prized possession in the middle of his bed. No extra persuasion was needed for you to begin trailing your hands slowly and sensually over your curves. You lightly traced down the bothersome seams of the lingerie, following the path Thrawn’s own hands would’ve taken, before resting one hand at the apex of your thighs and placing the other on the ample swell of your breast.

By this point, the self-sufficient, capable Commander of the Chimaera was all but gone. Your breathing was ragged with desire and coming in short bursts; you would’ve willingly torn the world apart if it meant Thrawn could be in the room. It was all too much. Thought of him, his scent, his imaginary voice in your ear commanding your every move … Your cunt absolutely throbbed with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs, soaking through the lacy fabric and drawing a needy groan from your lips. With a gaze half-lidded and hazy from lust, your head lolled to stare directly into the camera, and you pleaded like it would bring him to bed, “ Thrawn….. please….”

You were so far gone that you hadn’t even noticed your hands were moving of their own volition. At the utterance of his name, two fingers pushed aside the interfering fabric and slipped deep inside your cunt; the other hand pinched down hard on a peaked nipple. Your back bowed off the bed, and stars danced behind your eyes as a broken moan fell from your mouth.

At this point, heady lust had completely taken over. Gasps and cries of pleasure rang out in the silent room as your fingers moved to circle your clit, driving you closer and closer to a shattering climax. You screamed Thrawn’s name when you came, digging your fingers deep into the sheets and searching desperately for stability as the intense orgasm rocked your body.

You stopped the recording on the datapad and laid still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to regain your senses. Finally, you were recovered enough to actually retrieve the datapad from the bedside table. The screen had gone dark, but when you brought the device back to life, something wasn’t quite right; the video was nowhere to be found.

As you checked through all of the possible places it could be, your stomach did a flip as you finally realized what had happened. The video was set to send automatically after it was filmed, so when you hit stop……

One quick glance at the message history confirmed your theory. However, you were so much more preoccupied with the flashing notification button. With a trembling finger, you clicked on it, and an audio file popped up. Thrawn’s voice, usually so soft and collected, was now heavily accented and barely concealing a feral tone, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.” He sounded ready to eat you alive.

Sith hells, you were in trouble.

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitt'raw'nuruodo #chiss #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars smut #star wars rebels fanfiction

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Benny’s Girl (Prequel to Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Inspo: Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield

Pairings: Benny Miller x f!Reader, later Frankie Morales x f!Reader (in Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Summary: Benny’s new girlfriend is everything Catfish wants and more. Too bad it’s his best friend’s girl.

W/C: <4k

Warnings: language, sexual content, pining ohhh my word pining.

A/N: HI FRIENDS <3 I absolutely loved Before The Next Teardrop Falls and I LOVE writing pining, especially with my Frankie baby, so I decided to make a prequel to it! This fic is based on Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield, which I absolutely ADORE. you can read this as a stand alone or you can read it as a prequel, I think either one works well!!

Sometimes, a spark seems to appear where one never existed. It’s common enough; it’s the reason most relationships fizzle out before they can become something explosive and fiery. One thinks that the dynamite is going to explode and take off in a bright shower of colors, when in reality the lighter never truly lit the wick.

That’s what happened between you and Benny Miller. You’d loved the guy, really, but not in the way you thought. You still do. It’s just that the both of you were lonely people seeking something more than your past had given you. The two of you were hopeless romantics. Maybe that’s what started the relationship.

You’d met in a way typical for the younger Miller brother. You’d been at a bar with some friends who were desperate to get you laid. The same could be said for Benny, who was there not with his brothers-in-arms but the man he’d defeated in the ring that night. Nick and Benny were good enough friends, close enough that losing to the other was rarely a sore spot.

He’d spotted you across the bar, thought your laughing face was beautiful and your smile as you locked him was magnetic, drawing him to you before he could stop himself. Natural attraction. You introduced yourself. He told you his name was Benny. You asked why his hands were taped, he explained that he was a professional fighter, you’d made some snarky joke and you ended up talking for the rest of the night. One of your friends left with Nick. You and Benny stayed until the bartender shouted that it was the last call. You wrote your number on his taped palm and he saved it.

You went on two bar dates before he decided he needed to introduce you to his best friends. They were like brothers to him, they knew everything about him and he knew them inside and out. You went to the same bar as you’d met at, and you met the men he’d served with in his Special Ops days.

Santiago, known as Pope for some godforsaken reason, was a charmer. He’d kissed your hand after shaking it, complimenting you and making small talk, finding connections and building on them. You’d laughed at the man’s joking advances, and flirted right back. Benny squirmed lightly, but you kissed his cheek and assured him you were just playing along.

William, Will, Ironhead, was Benny’s older brother. He’d given you a warm clap on the back and shook your hand, telling you that you were brave for putting up with the rascally guy. You had to admit, it was fitting. It was clear that they’re brothers: they had the same furrow to their brow, their blue eyes widened in reaction to anything, they had a similar habit of tipping their head back to laugh when something was especially funny.

Frankie Morales, Catfish, was the last one you met and most definitely your favorite. He was quieter than the other guys, sat back while the other men made the noise. He was the punching bag, taking the brunt of the hyperbolized jokes- how Catfish hadn’t slept with a woman in 10 years, how he was the loud one of the group, how he was the one you had to look out for when he was drunk. You knew none of them could be true. He had a sweet smile and gave you a nod when you introduced yourself. He and Pope had some kind of banter between the two of them, albeit a banter you couldn’t understand as someone who didn’t speak Spanish.

Throughout the night, you found yourself more drawn to Frankie. He had a beautiful laugh, would pull his ball cap down a little lower when someone made a joke about him. He was the one who’d expose a lie Benny or Santiago took. He nursed one beer while the other men got rowdy, and you’d done the same. It seemed that the two of you found kindred spirits in each other over the course of the night, while Benny and Will and Santi smacked each other around and took an obnoxious amount of trips to the bathroom.

When it was time to head out, you’d hugged each of the men goodbye. It was already clear that you fit in just like one of them, even if you didn’t have the past experience that bonded the men. You hugged Frankie last. He was the best hugger; he wasn’t ridiculously ripped like Benny, firm and awkward like Will, or flirtatious like Santiago. He was strong but soft. The man was definitely a hugger, you could tell, and it was comforting for the brief moment or two you were in his arms.

Frankie put his cap on your head teasingly, covering your eyes, then stole it back and gave you a pat on the back. “Ben’s a wild one. Good luck with him,” he teased and walked off. You had to admit, his ass had a nice curve to it as he walked off to his beat-up truck. “Call me if he does anything stupid and I’ll beat his ass for you,” he called over his shoulder, prompting Benny to flip him off and put an arm around you. He simply laughed and got in his car.

Frankie became your favorite of the group. The two of you are the ones teasing each other exclusively and sitting quietly while the other men get crazy. Frankie tries sips of the cocktails you order, excitedly making grabby hands when the bartender sets it down. He always lets you steal some of the food he orders when you’re at the bar longer than normal. He shares your affinity for classic rock and when the bar blasts AC/DC, it’s Frankie who screams the lyrics to Thunderstruck with you while the others cover their ears. Santiago joins in sometimes too, but the country-loving Miller brothers never quite know all of the words like Catfish does.

At some point in the few month relationship, you earn your nickname of Queenie. It’s from teasing Santiago, and the one who bestows the title upon you is Will, the most stoic of the group. It’s an honor, you tell them all, laughing. You call the shots, and everyone follows. Even though Benny is your lover, Frankie is your second-in-command.

When Frankie does allow himself to get drunk, he’s the most fun of the group. He’s extra lovey, telling the men how much he appreciates them. He tells stories the other men won’t about their Special Ops days, about the stupid things Will did when they were abroad. He’s shamelessly goofy and funny and falls all over the men. You even convince him to do karaoke with you once.

Benny is an overgrown class clown, but he won’t do karaoke, no matter how hard you begged him, called him baby and pressed soft kisses to his face. He wouldn’t budge. Tonight was a rare night that Frankie drank more than one round. “I’ll do it!” He shouts excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Ooh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. We’ll be so good at it.”

You, unfortunately, were not good at it, but you had the time of your life with Frankie. On that barely-raised platform, the two of you sang Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart, completely out of tune and out of sync. You were giggling the whole time, especially at Frankie’s falsetto on the little “woo-hoo”s.

The two of you tumbled back to the table after, you giggling and falling into Benny’s arms. “Did you like it?” You cooed, sitting on his lap.

Benny laughed genuinely, pressing a kiss to your face. “Sure did. That was fantastic. Maybe you’ll have to sing just for me sometime, huh?” He teases.

Frankie sits alone on his barstool at the end and downs the rest of his beer. He flashes you a quick smile when your eyes meet his and he retires early for the night.

You and Benny had sex a couple of times. He was good at it, good enough. You enjoyed the way his lips moulded to yours, the way his thrusts were quick and fast and properly angled. From a technical standpoint, he should’ve been perfect. It was all you wanted, but there was no real connection behind it. The moans that trailed from your lips were small and soft, and the louder ones were never genuine. He always made you orgasm, at least, but it was slow and dull, the kind you’d wring from yourself with just two fingers.

The two of you had fun together. You went to the county fair, you got boisterous and drunk at bars, you did everything two twentysomethings are expected to do in a relationship. After every date, you had a small sad smile on your face as you got in your bed and distracted yourself with something on your phone. Something about it wasn’t right: you didn’t connect soulfully, in some mystical and spiritual way where one can read the other’s mind, in the way that movies and books and legendary romances felt some kind of supernatural force that pulled the strings and led them closer. It wasn’t what you needed, but it was what you wanted, and so you hung on a little longer.

Benny felt the same, but he was too afraid to disrupt the balance. He’d rather be mediocrely happy than alone again. He liked having a girl to squeeze water into his mouth and wipe his sweat after a fight, someone to slide his dick into while her lips met his skin. He didn’t want to lose that, even if he was slowly realizing that he just wanted a friendship with you.

You hung out with him and the other men more. You realized that he wasn’t your boyfriend around them, more of a sibling, teasing and nudging. There was no affection, no romance, just the playful aspect of him. That was fine, you told yourself, until you realized that it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

By principle, Frankie is not and refuses to be a jealous man. That changed when you came into the picture.

Something about you is absolutely magnetic to him, more than the way Benny was drawn to you across the bar. Sure, he’s been attracted to many girls, but he wants you. He yearns for you. He makes a joke at the table and it doesn’t make anyone but you laugh, but he doesn’t give a shit that Benny and Will and Santiago don’t find it funny, because he gets to watch the way your eyes glimmer and your mouth falls open and your chest heaves with the beautiful ring of your laughter.

He loves that you hug goodbye, because he gets to pretend for a moment that you’re his and he is yours, that he can press his lips to your soft skin and call you his girl. But you’re Benny’s girl, and he’s okay to live like that. He’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. Even if he dreams about you at night, even if you live in his head on repeat, saying his name. Frankie, baby, I want you, I want you…

One night, in his sleep, the sound of those words echoed through his head. He’s never heard you say them, but his unconscious brain assembled them like a beautifully haunting jigsaw puzzle that made all of his blood run south.

Dream-you is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing just his t-shirt. Dream-you smirks, walks closer, climbs over Frankie and presses her lips to his and her tongue delves into his mouth. She lies down onto him and grinds her hips to his and laughs and laughs and he presses his face into the curve of her- your- neck, smelling your perfume and grinding his hips back against dream-you’s. “All I want is you, Frankie,” dream-you mumbles and bites his lower lip. He shivers and dream-you coos his name, lines herself over his aching member and just before she slides down, he wakes up to a dark and lonely bedroom with a half-hard dick.

You and Benny joined the gang the next night out. He couldn’t meet your eyes. He listened as you fussed over Benny, heard you call him baby and steal his beer with a giggle.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Fish?” Santiago asked when you’re in the bathroom.

Frankie shook his head. He pulled his cap lower and finished his beer, then poured another from the pitcher on the bar. “Slept like shit last night.”

You’ve decided that it needs to end, so you asked Benny to meet him at your favorite bar. He agreed, and wanted to invite the boys, until you asked that it be just the two of you. It hurts that he has a glimmer of hope that you’re about to end things. If you don’t, he will.

You walk in with an apologetic smile, sitting across from him. “Hey, how was your day?” You ask in a soft voice. You’re unconsciously trying to prepare yourself to let him down gently.

He shrugs a little. “Uneventful. Yours?”

“The same. Listen, Benny…” you start and trail off, looking away.

He takes one of your hands and looks at you, his eyes understanding. “Hey. I think I know what this is about.” He reads the sadness in your eyes like a book. “We need to be done. I get that. I agree.”

Your face finds a soft smile as you look back at him. “Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. I have something to ask.”

“Shoot.”

He takes your hand and presses it to his lips softly. “Will you no longer be my girlfriend and just go back to being my friend?” He asks.

You nod excitedly, laughing. “Oh my god, yes, Benny. I’d love to no longer be your girlfriend.”

The both of you laugh at the irony in your words, and he sets your hand down. “Thank God.”

Later that night, Will, Frankie, and Santiago find their way to the bar. Of course they do. They come over to your booth, sliding in and pretending to love up on Benny. “Oh, are we interrupting a date?” Santiago asks with a fake pout.

You chuckle and look at Benny. He gives you a small smile and a nod. “Actually, no. No more dates between Benny and I. We’re over,” you say and breathe a sigh of relief.

Frankie’s blood runs cold. He must be dreaming for him to hear this. It’s only ever in those dreams that he hears the words he wants the most fall from your lips, words like these. Words that indicate you’re no longer Benny’s girl. “You two seemed so happy,” he murmurs in confusion.

Benny senses it all clicking. Frankie has liked you all along. He’s smarter than the gang gives him credit for. He can read his friends easily, and Frankie is the easiest of all of them to understand, with those big brown eyes that give everything away. It’s gotta be, he thinks. You probably don’t like him back, as anything more than a friend, but Frankie is in deep shit now for you. He nods, looking at Fish and shrugging. “We just didn’t work. We’re still gonna be friends though. She’s one of us, isn’t she?”

The men all cheer in agreement and it calms your frantically beating heart. The worst is over now. And goddamn, does Frankie look cuddly tonight in that flannel, you think to yourself. You slouch down against him two beers later and discover that yes, he’s as comfortable as he looks.

You’ve been single for a year now. Benny still texts with you daily, as do the other men. He sends you shitty Facebook memes that seem more like a dad would post. You realize that it’s for the best that you and Benny are over, with a chuckle. You can be much more honest.

It pains you to realize it, but you’re crushing hard on your ex’s best friend. Frankie Morales is everything you need and want and desire. His big arms wrap you in a hug every time the two of you say goodbye, and every time it feels like it lasts a millisecond longer. That neither of you want to let go.

Frankie feels the same, even though you don’t know it. He has that haunting dream once a week, the one where you kiss his neck and call him baby and it makes him yearn every night at 2:00 in the morning, staring at your Instagram page and thinking he should text you and see if you’re up. Not as a hookup, not anything like that. He just wants to talk to you.

You tease Frankie about his chronic insomnia. How he sends you random texts late at night. “Have you considered melatonin?” You ask.

“I have weird dreams. It’s not the falling asleep, it’s the waking up,” he admits, looking in the opposite direction of your face.

Some days, Frankie thinks you feel the same. He notices the way your eyes linger on his face, the way you always sit next to him in a booth. The way your phone’s lockscreen is a photo of the two of you being stupid at some function. You’ve become best friends, Frankie has to admit, but sometimes he thinks there could be more. But then you say something offhanded and he has to throw the notion away.

One night at the bar, when it’s just the men and you’re nowhere to be seen, Frankie takes Benny and guides him into the bathroom. His blonde brow furrows in confusion as he looks at Frankie. “Yeah, Fish?”

His hands rub together nervously and he looks down, before fidgeting with his cap and looking Benny in the eye. “You and Queenie… that’s all in the past, right? There’s nothing between the two of you?”

A smirk finds his face. “I knew it, Frank! I knew it from the night her and I broke up.”

He frowns. “Is that why?” He asks hurriedly. “Oh shit, I didn’t break the two of you up, did I? Jesus, Ben, I’m-”

“No, you dumb fuck,” he laughs and shakes his head. “I just saw the way you looked at her after it happened. Crazy in love. You totally are.

Frankie’s face turns red and he takes off his hat to adjust his hair. “Do you think she might like me too?” he asks, quietly. As if you could hear him somehow.

Benny nods, excitement in those bright blue eyes. “Hell yeah she does, Fish! You’re her fucking phone lockscreen. Girls don’t just do that.”

“I don’t know, man, we’re best friends. That might not mean shit.”

The blonde puts his hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Frankie. I’ve known you’re into her for like a year now. I know she likes you too. It’s time, you gotta ask her out.”

“Really?” He asks, brown eyes widening. “I don’t think so. That could fuck everything up,” he says, the anxiety in his voice.

“Trust me,” Benny nods. “It won’t.”

Frankie’s grinning ear to ear. “Alright. Tomorrow night, I’ll ask her to meet us here, but it’ll be just me. I’ll ask her out, how does that sound?”

“That sounds fuckin’ amazing, man!” Benny exclaims. “I’m happy for you. She’s a great girl and you’re a great guy.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, wringing his cap in his hands.

He nods. “Go for it, Fish.”

- Frankie never gets the chance.

The next night you float into the bar, absolutely on cloud nine. You’re grinning ear to ear and it only widens when you see Frankie, rushing over and hopping on the stool. “Hey Fish,” you coo and kiss his cheek.

Frankie’s stunned. “Hey. How was your day?” He asks hesitantly, looking at how flustered and happy you look.

“So good,” you laugh. “I actually got asked out. Like, on a date. This really sweet guy, friend of a coworker. His name is Sam.”

Frankie’s sure you can hear the crack that echoes inside his ribcage. His heart splits in two and to hide a quivering lip, he raises his glass to his lips and takes a swig of his beer.

You continue to talk about him, noticing his silence. “How was yours?” You ask, frowning a little at how tense he is. You rest a hand on his upper arm.

Frankie does his best not to flinch from your touch. “Not great,” he chuckles and clears his throat. “I kinda fucked something up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you pout and stroke his arm softly. “Can I help you with it? Do you need to talk about it?”

He shakes his head quickly, standing from his stool. “No, just a personal thing. Hey, I’m gonna run and piss, the other guys will be here soon. Order something, it’s on me.”

Frankie’s gone into the bathroom before you can even process it. You frown a little but the smile returns as you order the drink and think about Sam.

Frankie locks himself in a stall and texts the other men.

D-SQUAD 🚁

Frankie: mission aborted. You guys need to come to the bar now so I don’t look like a chump.

Benny: what happened?

Frankie: a guy asked her out today. she’s taken now I guess

He stares at his phone and sends one last text.

Frankie: and don’t you dare mention it to her. make her tell you first.

He slides his phone in his pocket and leans against the wall of the bathroom stall, letting out a deep sigh. This is all shit. He’s a coward, and he should’ve done something sooner.

He finally returns and sits next to you on a barstool. There’s a smile on his face that you’d notice was plastered if your mind wasn’t so wrapped up in your day. “So. Tell me about him. I’m happy for you, you know that?”

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller #benny miller x reader #garrett hedlund #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #pascalpanic

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pumpkinpot · 3 years

Text

Jealousy turned submissive

A/n: Hi! this is my first post, I am sorry for any grammar errors. Yes, he calls us Little Crow. i thought it was cUTe. enjoy.

Tag warnings: this is smut. use of vibrator, Y/N dom themes, jealous themes,

Y/n," I say, offering my hand.

The man takes it in his with a firm shake. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Cooper," he announces over booming club music. "you look as bored as I feel," gesturing to my now flat soda and open laptop. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

The setup does give off that feel. As I suppose, was proposed, but his company is appreciated. You can only monotonously skim Pinterest for so long. “I’m waiting for someone to finish their weekly chores.”

“Ah,” he confirms, “Bartender or dancer?”

“Neither.”

Over the next hour, I learn my new friend is a recently widowed father who was dragged out by his friends but isn’t quite ready to start dating. He spends my attention showing off pictures of his wife and toddler son. The conversation comes easy, I tell him about my most recent publication, only for him to reveal his wife's affinity for my work.

Cooper and I shuffle along the outskirts of the crowd to the bar to refill our non-alcoholic drinks. Along the way, he sneaks subtle cheers at his friends to ease their prying excitement while I slip winks at my secret date at the catch of his eye.

“So, why aren’t you out with your date?” Cooper asks.

“I’m not the public type. His job forces him to be, I’m here for moral support, but from a

distance.”

“Ah, so he’s a hero?”

As the question mark finishes drying at the end of his sentence I feel a soft trail draw down the side of my neck.

Warmth presses against my back, the feather suspended at the crook of my chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” comes a grating voice from behind me.

One look at Cooper's face says the look on Hawks is not a friendly one. Without a glance back I slip my hand around my boyfriend's waist, pulling him to my side.

“Cooper,” I greet, “this is Hawks.”

His wing extends possessively around my shoulder, every feather fanned in attention. I work my hand under the seam of Keigo's silk black shirt delicately trailing a finger up the joint of his left-wing. His knees nearly buckle at the touch, his grip of anger forcibly stripped from his body.

“Nice to meet you, my wife and I were really big fans.”

“Really," Hawks confirms, "Where is your wife?”

“-Okay,” I interrupt before more can be said. “Hawks, shall we head home?”

I exchange a brief apologetic goodbye with Cooper before leading hawks out the back gate.

I am yet from the club's threshold when Hawks sweeps me into his arms, taking flight. I choke on profanities swallowed down with two AM air.

Keigo says no words the entire way home, only sparing me a glance to set me properly on our balcony, yet he waits not for my legs to stop shaking before pulling me against the glass of the sliding door.

“You made me very jealous tonight my little crow.” He whispers, slipping a hand around the curve of my waist. “Watching you talk and smile with that man all night, drove me crazy. You’re lucky I-” One hand around my wrists. "-had work to do tonight or-" the other he tugs up my dress. "-you'd gotten this punishment much sooner.

I allow him to take me as he wishes. hiking my legs along the curve of his hips as he pulls me into our bedroom and stripes me. He takes his time to leave small lovebites along my collarbone and inner thigh, marking me as his.

I allow him to slip his cock between my lips, even gag a few times just to see the power well in his eyes.

He teases my cunt, drawing circles around my clit a string of possessive promises tumbling from jealous lips.

At the softest whimper, he loses control, slipping inside of me starved by his own punishment.

He pushes further into me hungrily, pulling my arms around him and kissing me with a consuming desire. The familiar shutter of his wings announces he's near climax.

Heaves come in broken commas of release, his wings sweeping behind him, slacking in exhaustion.

"Keigo," I whisper, through the wave of his orgasm.

"Hmm," he answers through a kiss. He sets inside of me, pumping slowly through the deflation of his erection.

"what's our safe word?"

His body tenses under the question and he pulls back slightly, "what?"

"Our safe-word, what is it?" I say, slowly moving to straddle his lap.

"Pomegranate, why?"

"Hmm, remember that."

I slip a silicone vibe over my fingertips while distracting him with a drunken kiss.

I dance my fingers under the curve of his wing joints before turning on the oscillation.

A broken whimper tumbles from his slacked jar. He digs temporary grooves into my back, burying his face into my shoulder.

"Ah, baby-"

"Now that you're reveling in your oversensitivity," I whisper, "you're going to answer some questions for me, understand?"

His deflation comes to a halt, blood rushing back to his groin. "little cr-"

"understand?" I say, upping the vibration.

He stifles an outcry between his teeth, nodding, "y-yes-"

"yes what?"

"Yes, mistress-"

He presses his hips up into mine, soaking any relief my clenched thighs allow.

"You embarrassed me tonight." I affirm, "you asked me to be there and paid me no mind all night."

My fingers weave the roots of his feathers not yet to touch the joint itself.

"Fuck.” He moans, “baby I-"

"Stop talking," I command, stiffing another attempt at a thrust. cockwarming inside of me I begin to massage the connection of feathers to the nexus.

His moans fall to feeble whimpers and broken expletives.

"Keigo, do you think I would allow anyone to come between me, and this?" I ask, giving one full-length, slow thrust.

I bite back my own moan with a tighter grip on his wing, refusing him any power at that moment.

He pulls my shoulder between his teeth, suppressing a gasp.

“No, no, look at me,” I say, using my unoccupied hand to lift his chin level with mine. “What came over you to believe I would entertain the idea of a mere man taking away what I have here.”

“But he-”

I raise my hips, pulling off him nearly completely, only the head of his cock breaching my insides. He fights against my hips, pleading kisses being left across my chest.

“I didn’t ask about him, I asked about me." I slip back onto him not forgoing my own pleasure for his mistake. "Answer the question.” I grid just enough to grant to feel his stubble tickle my clit but not enough for him to get any real reprieve.

Nail marks decorate my arms and no doubt my back. his fight to stay in control slipping from his grasp.

“I should have trusted,” He breathes, “I-I’m sorry” another heave, “please let me-”

I pull up once again, undulating the tip to pull him further from his orgasm and keep him teetering on insanity.

“Little crow please I need-"

My nails scrape against his scape as I pull his head back by the roots of his hair. His chin tips to the ceiling and I take my time to lick up his ear before pulling the lobe between my teeth. “You ever act out like that again, I’ll fuck you until you cry.”

He gives as much of a nod as he can, collapsing into a fit of hungry thrusts as my hips open to him.

#keigo x y/n #hawks x y/n #hawksbnha #takami keigo smut #mha smut #keigo tamaki #mha x y/n

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naoyas90dayfiance · 3 years

Text

+18 | Helping a friend | Naoya x Reader

Author's note: this is porn with a plot. hope you like it!

Warning: female reader, blackmail. Naoya receives: handcuffing, ball-gagging, blindfolding, non-con picture taking and sharing. You receive: a friendship badge

Summary: You make Naoya fall into your trap in order to help a friend.

Word count: 3.1k

Reader discretion is advised

"I can shut him up," your friend chuckled at your comment. She got up off the bed, went to her closet, and threw you a pair of metal handcuffs and a black ball gag.

"You'll need that," you eyed the toys up and furrowed your brows.

"What? You can touch them. They're clean."

"How clean?"

"Very clean. Wash them again if you want to or something," she rose her tone.

"Ok, but don't get upset."

"So..." she stretched up the last sound.

"Yes, I'm going to shut his pretty face." You both started laughing, as you took the toys and put them in your purse.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You blinked in the dark, your head tried to process the cheerful sound coming from your nightstand. Recognizing it was your phone, you opened your eyes and picked it up to see the name "Naoya Zen'in" lighting up the screen. Before deciding where to swipe, you looked at the time on the top. It was 1.30 AM.

You irked an eyebrow and bit your lip: the game was up. You swiped up, taking his call in, and listened to the other side of the line.

"Hey, sweetheart," his tone was seductive. You could hear the smile on his face.

You remained silent, looking at the ceiling of your room, thinking about how you could possibly put the toys your friend gave you on the future leader of the Zen'in clan.

"Hello?" Naoya asked.

"Hi, baby," you said softly.

"Were you asleep?"

"I was about to, but I saw your call."

"Good girl. What are you wearing?"

"Remember the lace set you gave me for my birthday?" You heard him chuckle.

"Of course I do. Send me a picture."

"I have a better idea," you said

"You do?"

"Why don't you come over here to see what I'm wearing? You know, I've been thinking about you," he didn't respond.

"About what you did to me the other night," you continued. "I get shivers just from remembering it," still no answer. At the silence, you checked the screen: he was still on the line.

"Baby, are you going to make me say..."

"Say it," he interrupted you.

"I want to be your slut again, Naoya."

"What a whore," you heard the sound of keys in the background. "Don't you dare leave me waiting outside your house."

"I'm already at the door, baby," he hung up.

You turned up on your nightstand's lamp, got up from the bed, and beelined to your purse. There they were: a pair of metal handcuffs and a black ball gag. However, there was something missing.

Making your way to your closet, you started to search for a piece of thick fabric. After not too much shuffling, you took out a black tie and a red silk robe you found on the process. You made your way to the nightstand to put the toys and the tie inside the first drawer.

The Zen'in household was far from your home, being a 20 minutes car ride to be exact. It gave you time to make your bed, light up a sandalwood candle and give yourself a short shower to put on some scented lotion all over your body.

When you finished caressing your figure, you slipped into the tiny lace set he gave you. It was a bralette and a thong.

"This guy has no imagination, at least he has a pretty face," you said looking at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the lingering to your body.

As a finishing touch, you decided to put the robe you chose earlier on top. Next, you checked your phone again, making sure to mute the camera app; then you placed it near your lamp.

Giving one final look to your room, you hummed to yourself in satisfaction and made your downstairs to wait for him in the living room.

You sat on the couch, making yourself comfortable. Nevertheless, in a matter of seconds you heard three knocks on the door. You waited for the other knocks. A smile grew wide on your face when ten bangs sounded throughout the house. You walked to the door, put on a straight face, and greeted the person on the other side.

"Let me in," Naoya grabbed you by the shoulder, moving you aside to make his way into your house uninvited.

"Why did you take so long to answer the fucking door?" He got behind you as you were closing the entrance. Without warning, he placed his hand on your neck. "Is this a fucking game to you?" You could feel the pressure building on his grip.

"I was getting our room ready," your voice could be barely heard. He removed his hand from your throat and placed it on your waist, getting his crotch near your ass.

"You smell good," he said. You started to feel how his hot breath caressed your nape. His hands started to caress the sides of your figure, feeling every inch of them with his long fingers.

"I got ready for you," you responded. Closing your eyes, you pressed yourself against his broad and tall figure. Your arms snaked behind him, reaching for his soft hair.

He turned you around, making your hearts beat next to each other. You kept your eyes down. Naoya softly took you by the chin and lifted your face. He lowered himself to kiss your lips.

He moved hands from your waist, to the hips, and to your butt. He grabbed it roughly and started to fondle it, feeling the soft fabric of the robe against your bum. Soon enough, the wet sounds of your tongues playing with each other started to fill the living room. Your hands moved to his strong arms, noticing the flexing of each muscle as he kept kneading your behind. A strong slap on your right asscheek interrupted the kiss.

"Let's go upstairs," you said.

"What if I fuck you here?" He grinned.

"I want to make you feel good, baby."

He lifted you up with your rear in his hands. You hugged his slim and toned waist with your legs. Naoya resumed the kissing. You softly bite his chubby bottom lip while touching his thick neck, and then his well-formed chest. He squeezed your ass and pressed you harder against his now-growing bulge.

As you two got to the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss once again. Naoya moved his hands from your aching bum to your chest, starting to move aside the red neckline to reveal what you were wearing underneath.

He lifted both of his brows to get a good look at the delicious way the tiny fabric was trying to hide your perked nipples. However, the real show was when he looked closely and noticed how painfully small the set was, leaving deep marks around your areola, your breasts seemed squishy.

At the sight, he started to grope them roughly, getting his mouth near your left tit. He bit the mushy skin until his teeth were tattooed on it. Then, he started to lick and suck your stiff nipple over the fabric. You moaned softly, which encouraged him to go to your other boob, repeating the process and leaving you with bruises. His tongue kept drawing wet circles until he was proud of how shiny the fabric looked.

When he finished his work on your bosom, he went to your neck and started suck harshly the skin; you could feel his teeth mistreating the thin skin. To even things up, your hands went to the waistline of his sweatpants. At your action, his touching stopped abruptly. You looked at him puzzled.

"Get on your knees now," you followed his command. His face lit up.

"I've trained you well, haven't I?" He said. Your hands were lowering his pants and boxers, freeing his half-hard dick; you had to hold back a smile when you saw precum already coating the top. You took him in your hands, giving up-and-down strokes to his thick shaft.

"Yes, baby," you said. His cock twitched.

Naoya put his hand on your hair, petting it lightly, asking you through his touch to take him into your mouth, and so you did. Starting with kitty licks on the head, creating a line of saliva and precum that connects his red mushroom head with your hot mouth. The Zen'in could only hiss at the sight, his touch grew desperate.

Hearing his reaction made you put half of his blood-filled cock in your mouth, moving your head back and forth; making sure the outline of it was visible through your cheek. As the bobbing continued, you placed a hand on his balls, caressing them harshly, gaining a loud moan from him.

He took you by the back of your head, pushing your face to his green bush, getting you to take more of him into your wet hole. He left out a groan as you hummed around it. Naoya started to push your mouth even further, wanting to see how much you could take of his full-grown erection. Your senses became clouded for the salty smell of his arousal was going through your nose.

Feeling his movements getting faster and deeper, you slapped his hand away. Naoya stared at you with his eyes widened, unable to react to your sudden movements. You took his confusion to your advantage and climbed on top of him, pressing his shoulders to the bed, laying him down.

You placed his hands above his head and kissed him deeply, caressing the inside of his mouth with your precum-covered tongue. The blonde followed your pace; enjoying how you began rubbing your hips on top of him. Naoya focused on how the plushy lips of your pussy and the sticky lace felt on his cock. But his pride got in the way.

In a flash, he pinned you to the bed, looking at your face trying to get answers for your surprising behavior. What he got to see was a teary face and your half-open lips shining with both of your saliva.

"What is it baby?" You asked. Naoya removed himself from you and sat on the bed, his head was low.

"Shit," you thought to yourself. Slowly, you started to touch his toned back, seeing his muscle tense up underneath his black shirt.

"Baby, you know what we do here is private. If you're upset about what I did, I'm sorry, I just got too caught up in the moment. You're my king and the one who drives me crazy," you crawled to his lap, placing your legs first, embracing him. Your hands caressed his cheek. He looked at you. You put your lips on top of his, moved your hands to his hips and played with the blazing heat of his dick.

You moved your abused mouth to his neck, your hands now on his balls and cock. Naoya drew his head back, not believing the amount of pleasure he was feeling. You didn't hesitate to make your next move.

"Baby," your hands moved to his abdomen, scratching his six hard and defined muscles, "I want to pleasure you like never before. I want to try something new with you."

"What?" He managed to say too low for his own liking. You sensed he was coming back to his right mind, but decided to not let that happen.

"Kimi, Toji's girlfriend, shared with me a secret. She said he loved it, and I want to try it," he closed his eyes and moved his head to the side. You hear how difficult his breathing was, your hands hadn't stopped playing with his sack, making his dick pulse near your crotch.

"I want all of your cum," you said. His eyes opened in shock. This was your chance.

"Lay down, baby, I will take care of you," he followed your command.

Moving your hands quickly, you took the handcuffs out of the drawers, Naoya stared at the item without blinking.

"Trust me," you said putting the toy between your legs, his eyes moved from the object to your swelling pussy. He relaxed against the bed, but you could see how his Adam's apple gulped. In a quick but steady manner, you put the wire between the headboard's poles.

Naoya kept his eyes on your body, not remembering when the robe was discarded from your body. His thoughts were interrupted when you lowered your figure, facing him. You could feel his fiery breath on your face, almost burning you. You placed small pecks on his lips, which he returned eagerly. Your hands went to his neckline, and passed them through his shapely shoulders and arms until you got to his hands, interwinding your fingers with his.

With all the care of the world, you placed his arms above his head. Suddenly, both of you heard two click sounds: he was restrained. You fixed your position so your clothed cunt was hugging his painfully hard cock.

You grinded with back-and-forth movements against him. He started to groan, intoxicated at the velvet texture caressing his ridge. The sinful smell of sex and sandalwood clouding his mind; it was too much for the sex-deprived Zen'in clan member.

You touched his face, making him open his eyes and look at your face; but then, his eyes travelled to the place where your cunt was slowly feeling him. He could feel the tension building up in his body.

You took your bralette off, placing it right next to his face. Naoya changed his focus to your chest, being only able to see the beautiful mounts he had in front of him, making him ooze more white liquid that fell beautifully on his abdomen.

You noticed right away and took some of it with your finger, licking it seductively while looking at him directly in the eye. He could only give out quiet moans. You could see his face growing red. Naoya threw his head back and tensed his muscles, enjoying the feeling you were giving him.

He opened his eyes again when he felt your weight shifting, this time a black ball was in your hands. He looked at it closely.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's part of the game, Naoya, baby. It's for you to not bite your tongue out of the pleasure," he narrowed his eyes.

"Trust me, if not you're not feeling good I will stop immediately, I will follow your commands," his gaze lingered in your face, but seeing you so pretty made him lay back on the pillow, closing his eyes once again.

You tied the toy behind his neck, put a hand on his cheek to get his mouth to open slightly, and then you placed the gag on him.

You lifted yourself up to untie the simple knot that kept the sides of your panties together. At the loss of friction Naoya started to struggle against his handcuff, looking at you directly in the eye, clearly upset.

You removed your panties and threw them away. You placed your left hand on his chest. He saw how your other hand aligned his swollen cock against the entrance of your dripping pussy.

He stopped his struggle after he felt the head of his cock being swallowed by your tight cunt, the erotic hug almost made him cum right away, but he started to breathe deeply to calm himself down.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you lower yourself, getting through his fat mushroom tip, moving towards the thick shaft until you were fully stuffed by his cock. Quickly, you started to hop on top of him, making sure to add waves of extra pressure by contracting your ass; his breath became erratic.

Naoya softly opened his eyes, directing them immediately at your bouncing breasts, watching how your nipples played in front of him, teasing him almost. As you moved sensually on top of his cock, you sensed him getting bigger and twitching inside you, so you decided to stop. You calmed down and looked at him.

"You deserve more than this, baby. You deserve it after all your hard work," Naoya's mouth opened when his cock left your hot pussy, the way it caressed his ridge almost had him releasing his cum on his abs.

He was too puzzled to understand what you had in your hands.

You placed the piece of fabric over his eyes, tying it behind his head. He didn't like the thought of not looking at you. However, at how events were playing, he wanted to know what you were about to do next. Little he knew that at that moment a photo was being taken.

After everything went dark for him, Naoya felt your soft lips and tongue going from his broad neck to his hard nipples, your tongue playing with them in circles while your hands started to caress his heavy sack again. He arched his back slightly. You could have sworn you sensed whimpers coming from him. Your lips moved to his belly, biting and licking each separate abdominal muscle.

"You're so sexy," you said. He tried to chuckle, but the ball gag didn't let him.

Your caresses stopped, leaving the young man waiting for your next move. He exhaled roughly when he felt your velvety insides wrapping up his dick. You started to bounce, making your ass slap loudly against his thighs. Your moans filled the room. Naoya could only curl his toes at the rushed movements.

You leaned towards his shoulders, using them as support. You changed the pace, harshly thrusting his dick into your soaked cunt, the squeaking sound of the bed amplified. His hot cock twitched against your walls, caressing your sweet spot deliciously.

After a few more thrusts, you felt your belly spamming. Naoya felt your pussy pulsing, milking him. The future leader couldn't help himself but release loads and loads of his thick cum inside you, clenching his hands and holding his breath.

Naoya’s body gave up and laid still on the bed. You took note of his behavior, so you removed the blindfold and the ball gag.

You were greeted by a sleepy man with his eyes closed, his breath returning to normal. Without losing much time, you also undid his handcuff.

Naoya put his arms down. You removed yourself from the top of him, managing to lie beside his figure. The room remained silent for a few hours.

Before the sun rose Naoya got himself off your bed, went to take a shower in your bathroom, got dressed, and left your place. You remained in bed with eyes closed, but noticing each of his movements.

When you heard the engine of his car starting, you reached out for your phone on the nightstand, opening your messaging app and sending the photo. Suddenly, a notification popped up:

"That could work as blackmail," Mai said.

"You're welcome, bestie," you replied and slept with a wide smile on your face.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin #zenin naoya #stories of a concubine

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years

Text

What I See

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN Medic Reader

Premise: My musings here resulted in this. You're a medic in the 501st who works closely with Kix. At first you think the crush you have on him is one-sided, until one day you look through his sketchbook and are surprised by a portrait he drew.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: G

Other notes: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like clones

AO3

Being an army medic had its ups and downs, its slower periods and bursts of intense stressful activity. You wouldn’t trade it for anything though. The pay was better than what you earned as a civilian medical worker, your patients were much more agreeable (even though there was the occasional trooper who insisted he was fighting fit when he was still far from being so) and your coworkers were professional and easy to get along with. One coworker in particular was your favorite, and you looked forward to the shifts you shared with him.

When you first met Kix, you admired him for the love and care he showed his fellow clones and commanding officers. The two of you quickly developed a rapport; he always laughed at the bad jokes you made, and you liked to challenge him to competitions to see who could restock supply shelves in the med bay the fastest … he always won, but every time you’d stick your tongue out at him and say “I’ll get you next time!” and he would only respond with a knowing smirk.

During down time, when there were no patients and paperwork was handled, Kix would sit at his desk with a leather-bound book and a pencil. It was an odd at first, seeing the rich brown leather and sheets of paper in an austerely sterile all-white setting filled with holopads and technology, but it also looked right in his hands. Without meaning to, you’d sometimes watch as he focused intensely on whatever he was scribbling into the book, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

“Jesse teases me and tells me I should just take pictures,” he explained one day as he showed you some drawings in his book, “but I find this relaxing.” He flipped to a sketch of a grassy plain with mountains in the background. You marveled at the details: the colors and shading on the mountains looked like sunlight glistening off their stony faces, the grass looked so realistically textured you thought it would feel like the real thing if you touched it, and he even added some wildflowers as well.

After seeing the meticulous designs he shaved into his hair, it was no surprise that Kix was an artist.

“Looks like it could be a picture,” you commented.

“Fives said something similar once, when we were down on Felucia he caught me drawing this-“ he flipped through the book to show you a drawing of a wide-trunked tree with large drooping leaves. “I just draw what I see,” he added with a shrug.

“You’re really talented though, the best I can draw is a stick figure.”

Kix cracked a small smile. “That was once the best I could do too,” he said.

The way his lips curved in his smile, the way his eyes shone as he looked at you - in that moment you realized just how beautiful he was. Sure, he was good-looking – all the clones were – but he stood out to you.

There was no use denying it, you had a crush on him.

Before there was a chance for your thoughts to betray you in any way, Kix’s comm beeped. “Duty calls,” he said, closing his sketchbook and stashing it in a drawer under his desk. He then stood up and made his way to his station, and you followed suit. Whatever was about to come into the med bay, it would keep you busy enough to distract yourself … so you hoped.

It had to be strictly professional between yourself and Kix, you reminded yourself as the first wave of injured troopers came into the medbay. Besides, given how quickly he could turn on a heel from artist to medic like that demonstrated how dedicated he was to his work, you knew he would never let anything get in the way of his duty.

Four rotations went by. Kix went on a mission with the rest of Torrent Company, leaving you to manage the med bay on your own during your shift. It was more of the same, really … but you thought about him more than you would care to admit. Of course, you always thought about him when he went on missions, you told yourself. Everyone worried about their coworkers, right? Especially if there was a chance they might not come back?

He always came back, you told yourself. This time wouldn’t be any different.

Only it was both more of the same and different. You were working on paperwork when the med bay doors suddenly flew open, and troopers began pouring in. As soon as you commed some off-duty medics to report to the med bay, you manned the triage station so you could tend to the more critically injured troopers first. It was hectic, a flurry of stressful activity, making sure everyone who needed a bed had one and every wound and scrape was patched up. It wasn’t until everything quieted down that you found Kix in one of the beds.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw him. He was asleep, undressed from the waist up with bandages and bacta patches affixed to spots on his shoulder and the side of his head, and his lower half covered with a blanket. Nodes attached to pulse points on his inner arm connected to a machine by his bed that recorded his vital signs, and everything looked normal at first glance. His chart reported a direct blaster hit to his shoulder and a graze on his head, with an expectation of a full recovery, signed off by one of the medics you called in to help. You owed that medic big time, you thought.

A glance at the nearest chronometer revealed that your shift ended three hours ago, but you couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to leave. So you grabbed a chair and pulled it over to Kix’s bed so you could sit by him. Someone had to keep an eye on him after all. It was professional courtesy, you told yourself, that was all. Besides, even though your body ached and felt heavy with exhaustion, your mind was too active and on edge for sleep.

On the floor by his bed were his things: his armor, neatly stacked and organized, next to his medical pack. Inside his pack you found his sketchbook, and you figured you could pass the time by looking at his drawings again. You found the sketch of the plain and the mountain again and took a few more minutes to admire the detail. Then the tree on Felucia, and then a tooka cat, and when you turned the page you nearly dropped the book in surprise.

Kix had drawn you. In the picture you looked off in the distance, chin propped up on your hand. The detail was incredible: the shape of your nose, your mouth, your eyebrows, all rendered with magnificent accuracy. You wondered if he drew it from memory, or used a picture as a reference, or sketched you one day on duty when you weren’t paying attention.

It had to be a picture, you decided. What you saw before you … it was an idealized version of yourself. Better-looking than anything you ever saw in the mirror.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a weak drowsy voice calling your name. You looked up and saw that Kix had woken up, his head turned towards you and his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“Oh- you’re awake!” you stammered, your cheeks flushing with heat as you slammed the sketchbook shut. You sprang to your feet and came to his bedside – to tend to him as a medical professional, you reminded yourself.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“My job,” you answered plainly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” he answered glibly. “But I meant, what are you doing with that?” he nodded his head best he could and glanced to the sketchbook that was still in your hand.

“Oh-“ You froze for a second. “I- sorry, I just really like your ….” Your sentence trailed off as you saw apprehension flash across his face.

“It’s fine,” Kix murmured as he averted his gaze away from you.

“I … I saw you drew me.”

“Yeah … drew that when I was away … was missing you.”

Oh. Maybe he was crushing on you too … the idea was equal parts exciting and scary.

“Missed you too,” you returned, reaching down to give his wrist a gentle squeeze. “And it’s a really good drawing of me too. Did you use a picture for reference or something?”

“Memory,” Kix said plainly.

“Wow …” You opened up the sketchbook again to your drawing and gave it another lookover. “And you made me look better than I actually do.”

“No. I told you before, I draw what I see.”

Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and you looked up to meet Kix’s gaze again. Tired as he was, he looked at you with a soft admiration, as if he was appreciating a fine work of art standing directly in front of him. Your mind was both full and blank at the same time, feeling flattered and treasured but at the same time unsure of how to respond to him.

“I … I’ve been putting off telling you how I feel about you,” he continued, “because –“

“Your duty comes first, I understand,” you cut him off as you sat down on the edge of the bed, turning your torso to better face him and setting the sketchbook down by his head.

“No, not that. Well, it has to, but – but that doesn’t mean I can’t want more out of life.” Kix paused. He raised his hand and reached it towards you. You responded by raising up your own hand, taking his in yours, and holding it in your lap. Your other hand came to rest on his wrist. He was so warm under your touch, soft and solid and steady. You knew that you would eventually have to let go, but you didn’t want to.

“My favorite part of the day is when I get to see you, whether it’s here or in passing somewhere on the ship,” he continued, “and on the battlefield after I got shot, as I was lying there, all I could think about was how I might never see you again.”

“Kix, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted you. “Except, if- if after the war’s over you wanted to give it a shot? You and me?”

“Yes.” The words immediately fell from your lips as your mouth widened into a smile. You didn’t even have to think about it, and the potential consequences that the higher-ups in the GAR might inflict upon the both of you for even entertaining the idea didn’t matter. It just felt right, the idea of you and him. You couldn’t begin to explain it.

Kix returned your smile. You raised his hand to your mouth and softly kissed the back of it before lowering it back down to your lap. Before you could disentangle your hands from his, he returned that gesture as well, pulling your hand that was intertwined with his to his mouth and pressing little kisses into your knuckles. The feeling of his lips on your hand sent pleasant little tingles through your skin.

“Let’s talk about it some more after you’ve recovered,” you suggested.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed absentmindedly. He shifted slightly in bed but suddenly stopped and froze in place, his face twisting into a pained grimace and a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling your hand back to you and scanning his body for any other signs of distress.

“Yeah, just hurts is all.”

“Let me get you some painkillers.”

“No need, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Kix, I insist.” You told him in the sternest voice you could muster.

“I have the right to refuse treatment, especially if the treatment is better spent on my brothers who are in worse shape than I am.”

He was right, he did have the right to refuse treatment. But you couldn’t bear the idea of him being in pain.

“Okay … how about a sleeping aid then? Or some water? Can I get you anything?”

“If you want to do something for me, go get some rest. I’ll still be here when you report for your next shift.”

“Ugh, fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Ah come on, you know you love me.” Kix said teasingly, punctuating his statement with a smirk and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Giving him a small laugh and a half-hearted eye roll, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Before you turned to leave, you took his hand in yours again, and took a moment to gaze in his eyes. It took everything in you to not immediately start imagining a life with him after the war. There wasn’t even any guarantee there was going to be a life after the war – the cruiser you were on might be destroyed tomorrow by the Separatists for all you knew – but the idea still filled you with hope and joy. Something to look forward to with him. Something else to fight for.

#kix x reader #kix x you #clone medic kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone trooper #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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dalishthunder · 3 years

Note

1) “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.” & 48) “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.” with Mallek to a human s/o?

I combined these two because I felt they worked really well together

The Hottest Person in the Room

Pairing: Mallek Adalov/afab human s/o

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1192

Biting, rough, marking, cream pie

You were supposed to be out all day, busy running around dealing with social obligations only for your friends to cancel last minute. Which sucked because you'd already gotten yourself prepared, out of bed, and actually had left your beautiful, comfortable abode.... But no matter, it just meant you got to choose the flavors on the flavordisk for when you visited Mallek instead... like mushrooms and the troll version of olives... or maybe just plain instead of the monstrosity Mallek always ordered.

Yeah... you decided to pick up a regular normal flavordisk for you two.

It smelled absolutely heavenly and not at all like jellybeans, grub crunch, peanut butter with extra garlic or some other crazy concoction he kept on ordering. Most of them were pretty awful. But with a plain you figured he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to his slices while yours remained delicious and not at all like an alchemist's shopping list.

When you opened the door to his hive he wasn't in his entertainment block so you shoved some things aside on his table to put the box down and went up to his respite block where he was probably working. He got really intense about it sometimes so he'd probably been at it for hours knowing him. You heard a quiet, strained. "Shit."

You didn't bother knocking because it was honestly a little disconcerting hearing him say that and you were a bit concerned that maybe he'd hurt himself. What you did not expect was to see him very flushed, whipping around to look at you, his wire rimmed glasses reflecting your nudes on his screen with his hand firmly planted around that blue raspberry gummy worm of a phallus. "You = back early." He sputtered.

It took you a moment of blinking before you just smirked, "Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?"

He let out a little chuckle, recovering pretty quickly from the shock, "You know I can't resist my cute little robobuddy."

"Well with sweet talk like that how can I resist?" You sauntered over to where he sat, shucking off your shirt and sports bra on the way. You planted a soft kiss on his lips and he cupped your face, following as you pulled back.

"Fuck you really = cute."

"I'm about to be even cuter." You waggled your eyebrows dropping to your knees and kissing the inside of those tree trunks he called thighs. Well, he didn't actually call them thighs. He called them upper strut sticks which was dumb.... Troll naming systems were dumb.

He tipped your chin up with his fingers, his sharp teeth catching the dim light. "Hmmm, stand up I have a better idea."

"Oh?" You quirked a brow, but did as he said and he rewarded you with a bruising kiss.

Oh.

It was That kind of night.

You let out a giggle as he pulled away just enough to nip at your bottom lip. "You about to = realcute." His grip on your hips was tight, hard enough to bruise.Mallek traled his lips along your jaw, down your neck to bite your shoulder. "You always look so much better when I mark you up."

There was a low grumble to his voice and you shivered. "Well good thing I like being the hottest one in the room, so you'd better get on that."

"Mmmm I can't wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin." He purred as you fumbled with your pants, finally kicking out of them fully. In no time he was on you, sucking and nipping at your neck as he pushed you back until you were pinned against the wall. You threw a leg around his hip, your hand wrapping around to squeeze an ass cheek.

He let out one his his clicky purrs, biting you again, this time hard enough to draw a few drops of blood, his hand coming down to grip your thigh and hold it in place.

God you were so fucking wet for him already.

You could feel his bulge teasing at your folds, prodding at your entrance sliding in just a fraction before pulling back and teasing again. His other hand came down, thumb rubbing at your pleasure nub... god their language was starting to take hold.

Though pleasure nub was actually kind of cute.....

Mallek bit you again and you dug younr nails into the fat of his ass, bucking against him. "C'mon Mal, stop teasing."

He chuckled, his tongue lathing over and soothing his last bite mark, "Your wish = my command, player #2."

You snorted at that dorky pet name, your fingers curling in his hair and pulling him closer as he grabbed your other leg and wrapped that around his waiste as well, bulge slipping slowly into you.

You let out a moan, savoring the stretch as he eased in little by little, giving you time to acclimate. "Fuck you feel so good."

He began to squirm in you as you clenched around him and bucked against him. He snapped his hips forward claw tips pricking against your skin from where he held you up, and your ass smacked against the wall. His pace was slow, pulling out almost fully before thrusting back into you. A sort of clicky buzzing sound that you'd come to call a trill escaping his throat.

He was so fucking hot. Maybe not like temperature wise but the way he affected you, made you sweat and squirm he might as well have been.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving marks of your own against his thick skin. He picked up the pace, hitting just the right spot to have you seeing stars and you absolutely keened out his name.

He bit you again, harder this time, grip around you tightening, bulge thrashing inside you. He was close. "Bucket?" He asked.

You shook your head legs holding him closer, squeezing him in a vice grip.

He snickered, "You're so fucking weird."

You smacked his ass in retaliation and he gasped.

"You love it and you know it!"

Malleklaughed, but let out a choked "Fuck!" as you clamped down around him again. He threw back his head. "Fuck I'm so close."

"Damn right you are. Got that gorilla grip p-" His horns knocked against the wall as he swooped in to kiss you, bulge stiffening as you felt him spill into you.

He let go of one of your legs, fingers going to rub furiously at your nub, and it wasn't long until you were tumbling after him.

When he finally let you go you were both still panting, and he took a step back to admire his handiwork. You weren't sure how quickly he'd gotten his phone again, but he had it in his hand again, snapping a picture to show you just how thoroughly you'd been marked. You pulled him down to bite his neck back, hard enough to leave a mark before whispering in his ear. "Now we're both the hottest person in the room."

"Babe... it literally = just the two of us."

#mallek adalov #x reader #feeling thorny #100d under the cut #fanfic #thunderous applesauce #I really like how this came out

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

co-regulating.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: following balancing out, an anon asked about aaron and mom’s first time after her recovery, so here it is!! our first fic of 2021! and it’s smut. who’s surprised? not me!! i’m doing blog housekeeping this weekend, so let me know if you want to be on taglist!

words: 1.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, creampie, very soft, quite tame), mentions of canon-typical injury and recovery, language

summary: “scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” - cormac mccarthy, all the pretty horses. au!march 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed, and slide under the covers, immediately rolling halfway onto Aaron and pulling his lips to yours.

He makes a little surprised noise and takes the back of your head in his hand, his other arm wrapping around your lower back. You run your fingers up his abdomen under his shirt, finally landing with your palm over his racing heart.

“Did you take your meds?” You whisper against his mouth. It wasn’t like him to forget, but his pulse had to be higher than a hundred. That might be alright for someone actively running a marathon, but for a fifty-two-year-old stabbing survivor with chronic health issues due to said stabbing it was less so.

He laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You’re fucking tachycardic.”

He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “That’s your fault. And yes, I did take my meds.”

You hum. “Good.”

“Any reason in particular you ask?” He’s still the picture of fond skepticism - eyebrows raised and a little smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

You shrug. “Just got some clearances from physical therapy today.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” Your hand slides down past the waistband of his sweats, palming his cock through the fabric. He hisses through his teeth, his hips tipping up, searching for more contact.

His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him over his pants, your touch gentle and slow. He swallows thickly, his breath stuttering for a moment. “Are you allowed?”

“I have to take it easy,” you tell him. “But I’m allowed.”

He reaches down for your thigh, brushing up to your ass, and he inhales again, sharp, when he realizes you’re wearing one of his shirts and one of his shirts only. You oblige him and shift to straddle him, settling down against him and circling your hips for just a little friction.

Aaron’s fingers play with the hem and a little flash of anxiety jolts through your belly. He sees it in your face and lets go, dropping his hands to your hips.

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “Just got nervous about the scarring. I’m fine.”

Aaron tilts his head to the right, studying you. “Do you want to leave your shirt on? It’s okay if you do.”

“I know.” You take a deep breath and remove your shirt, your ribs only pulling a little as you lift your arms over your head. “But I’m good.”

Of course he’s seen you - he’s the one who dealt with your wound care when you got home - but this is the first real sex you’ve attempted since your injury. It’s silly to feel insecure, really. Aaron loves you from top to toe and you know it. He’s also got scars of his own, and you know they don’t impact the way you see him, but it’s new to you.

Scary.

Aaron’s hands slide up to your waist, his right thumb just brushing the angry, raised scar over your left side. You run your hands down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms. The pair of you just sit there for a moment, breathing together.

Co-regulating. You remember. That’s what this is called.

“Can I turn on the little light?” He asks.

You nod, knowing he can see you. One of his hands leaves you and stretches, sliding the dimmer on the bedside lamp just bright enough that you can see each other, but not so bright that it’s harsh.

His eyes soften as they wander from your hips, up your abdomen, and finally meet yours, watching him look at you. He wets his lips as he shamelessly checks you out and heat floods you from head to toe. You know he can feel it when you start to throb between your legs, your center pressed against his hardness.

“There you are.” His hands slide up, reaching your chest, brushing over your nipples with his thumbs. “I missed you.”

You smile, despite yourself. “Hi.”

When you nod, he presses his hips up into you and you lift up, giving him space to slide his pajama pants down enough to free his cock.

You settle back over him, grinding without letting him enter you as you slide against him. Bring a hand to the back of his head, winding your fingers in his hair while your other hand rests on his shoulder for balance.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Aaron’s head tips back and gentle hands guide your hips back and forth, coating him in your arousal. His next words come through an almost-desperate gasp. “I missed you. God, I missed you.”

There’s something in his voice that makes your breath catch, brings tears to your eyes. His eyes snap open and meet yours, his hands leaving your hips with fingers open and palms out. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I think this is what the kids call catharsis.”

He laughs a little and sits up, kicking his pants all the way off and gingerly pulling both of you to the top of the bed so he can lean against the headboard and bring a leg up behind you. “C’mere, honey.”

You melt into his chest, picking yourself up a little and slinging your arms around his shoulders. You feel his hand between you, guiding himself into you.

You tense with a little hiss through your teeth, and he stills. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You kiss his cheek. “Just gotta go slow.”

He presses his cheek to yours, his other hand brushing over your back. “Okay. At your pace, sweetheart.”

You finally sink down with a deep breath, taking all of him.

The hand that was between you slides up around your back, finding a place at the back of your neck and holding you close. Aaron barely moves, thrusting up into you just as far as he can without jostling you too much, taking all your weight on his hips while supporting you with his thigh.

You take a shaky breath, the tightness in your throat hanging on until you let yourself cry into his shirt. Nothing hurts more than it should given your injuries, you’re not sad, but you missed him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else. The hand on your hip begins to guide you so he can pull out further before sliding back in. You whimper.

The feeling of him moving within you is achingly familiar; he feels more like an extension of your own body than a separate being.

There’s no hurry, no rush, no aim in his movement. Neither one of you tries to get anywhere, preferring the proximity to anything else. You literally can’t get closer to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel the pleasure and pressure behind your cheekbones, in your aching ribs.

He’s a perfect fit. Always has been.

You tuck your face impossibly further into his neck, your lips locked to his pulse point, as your tears subside.

His heart rate has slowed significantly, beating steadily, without haste, under his skin. He wraps further around you, the hand on your hip crawling up your back to meet the other between your shoulders.

He doesn’t mean to, but he crushes you a little to his chest and you flinch, your ribs twinging.

Immediately, his hands disappear and he stills. You lean back and press your palms to his chest for stability, breathing as deeply as you can with your eyes squeezed shut until the pain passes. You open your eyes to Aaron’s concern, guilt coloring the lines around his eyes.

Bringing your hands to his face, you rub the tension away with your thumbs. “I’m okay, love. Just a little gentler. It’s okay.”

His eyes flutter shut, but you keep your eyes and hands on his face as you lift yourself again, feeling the intoxicating drag of him against your walls before you drop back down. He lets out the breath he was holding as he bottoms out again, his hands returning to your waist.

You lean forward, your foreheads meeting and noses brushing. His hands drop to your hips, guiding them to that angle that always leaves you both wanting for air no matter the pace.

Without fail, you find it together and the ribbons of pleasure curl up your spine, unhurried and gentle. You let out a breathless moan and Aaron steals it from you, capturing your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you drop your hands from his face to the nape of his neck, your fingers winding into his hair.

The pace never changes, remains slow and meandering, even as you both get closer to the edge. You almost don’t want to finish - didn’t think you would, really - but the pleasure nevertheless builds in your lower belly, your walls throbbing in time with your heart.

Aaron’s thumbs pass back and forth over your skin where they work your hips against him.

You reach your peak first, his precision and consistency tipping your body into a rush of pleasure that takes your breath and your vision. Aaron never frees your mouth, swallowing your cries as they leave you.

“Good, baby. Just want to make you feel good.” It’s a mumble as he finally wanders away from your lips, wandering down your jaw.

His command of your body prolongs your orgasm, drawing it out to a constant dull hum that thrums through you.

Aaron never falters for a second. You know he’s entirely focused on you, but he told you once that the focus only makes it better. The effect of your pleasure on him is clear when you open your eyes, even weighed down as they are by sensation.

Aaron’s eyes are closed, his breath leaving him in time with his movement inside you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You fall forward into him again and his arms wind around you, gentle and mindful.

His orgasm seems to surprise him a little, his hips and breath stutter as he thrusts up and pulls you down by the hips, spilling deep into you with a short groan. You gasp at the pressure, the last dregs of your own orgasm fluttering through you with renewed purpose.

The two of you continue to move against each other as you come down, your body feeling looser and almost without pain for the first time in three months. Aaron’s hands trace up your back, smoothing over your skin and setting it alight. He softens inside you, but doesn’t leave your heat.

Aaron curls forward, pressing his lips to your collarbone and wandering down your chest. You let yourself tip back, supported by his hands, as he continues down your body until he reaches the new scar. His lips pass over it three or four times before you feel a firm, but gentle, kiss right over the center.

He straightens, bringing a hand to your face. “I love you.”

The words sound so simple in his mouth. They make you smile.

“I love you, too.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @brittanymcsharry

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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wendimydarling · 3 years

Text

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic.

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed.

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning.

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested.

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle.

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream.

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop.

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes.

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been.

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid.

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.”

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.

“For example, Miya writes:

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off…

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought.

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine.

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly.

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone.

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote.

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest.

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else.

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @achaoticaugust @demivampirew @raspberrydreamclouds I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

#my writing #monster romance #reader insert #monster x reader #merman #shark merman #merman x reader

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shelf-care · 3 years

Text

Obsession

Part 4 of the lipstick mark series.

This really isn’t an X OC for creed, but this part is entirely about him and his character and how they had met kinda. I’m saving that for down the line.

Warnings: Creed being Creed.

Everything in life starts with your mindset. It reveals something about who you are and what you do. Is it the way you look at the problems of the world, or the way you want to see the universe around you? Who knows, the world is screwed. Nothing can even start to explain how bad things can get. Maybe that explains the way I am.

Victor Creed (Weapon X Journal log 1996)

“Tell me what she’s been doing.” The claw on his right hand ran down the interns face, cutting his flesh open in the thinest line, trailing from his eye, over the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips. The young man couldn’t be more than twenty two at the most. A Harvard graduate, top of his class in genetic theory and chemistry. The man swallowed, “I can’t give you that information sir. I don’t have the clearance level.” He gasped as Creed released him from his grip, only because he didn’t want to get another strike on his record, to which he had six. “Tell me who does.” Yellow eyes watch his every move, a lion seeking to devour his prey in an instant if he made any sudden moves. “Doctor Striker. He’s the director of Project Trojan horse. He specifically chose Agent Hope for the operation.” The man scoffed, watching a long and thick track of blood slowly pulling down from the cut he’d left on the kids face. “Strikers back.” He smiled. “Missed that sick bastard.” He wiped his claws clean on his coat, then opened the door to leave. “Thanks kid, you were a big help. Make sure to change those pant’s o’ yours.” He chuckled with his white teeth piercing the dim room, his back turning to leave the kid alone and utterly terrified.

With every step Victor couldn’t decide wether or not to be giddy or to curb his excitement out of premature celebration. She was his, had been that way for the last few years. A few months didn’t change that. She was like his light in the dark, his morning star. Why did she not see what she was to him? He’d only felt this one other time before. A burning, and ache for the things that were real. She was the last of the real breed. The type of people who would do anything to save the world. Him? He’d sacrifice the world in a heart beat for her. He’d do annoying to hold her in his arms as they laid contemplating life as they stared at the ceiling. He missed the way she smelled after a night in the rain, running his claws through her thick curls. He scoffed to himself. He became soft, his obsession drove him mad, but it was the best kind. It was like a hunt that would never let him go. The excitement, the raw adrenaline he’d always loved as young man. As his boots connected with the grated floor he heard muffled voices discussing a recent development on “Hopes” mission. Creed was more than curious, he wanted to know what was so important. Tapping in his verification code, the door slid open to the side. Stepping in all the doctors in the room became like a funeral parlor. Dead eyes staring at him all the while folding his arms with a grin on his face. “No continue Doctor Striker.” He gave the man at the table the floor. “I don’t think thats wise Creed. Considering that the topic is about your Former commander, not to mention Ex lover of sorts and her current conditions.” He scoffed again. “She’s still my girl.” He said as a joke but with the hidden agenda of something Striker couldn’t place, but at the same time he’d known what Victor was planning. “Its inappropriate, and is currently on a top level clearance need to know basis.” Creeds steps thundered across the room, every step a low roll of a storm threatening those around it. “Then by all means Doctor, remove me.” He sat down at the table, legs placed on top of the table with research papers under his boots. Picking one up and placing over he saw lots of long wards that he couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. “The way I see it. Theres something you don’t want me knowing about because she’s become more than just an operative and sleeper agent.” He lent forward, his hair curtaining most of his face. Striker removed his glasses, giving them a rub with a cleaning cloth, then pushed them up the bridge of his nose as he was finished. “You’re not as idiotic as you look.” He commented. Creed chuckled in a rather dark tone. “You’d be surprised on what goes on in here.” He motioned with his rather large index claw to his temple. Creed stood up again, towering over the sitting Striker. Without even looking below, Victor snatched up the latest report from the physical they had run just earlier that day on an “Agent Hope.” As he flipped through the report, there were pictures of her. Her face, physical features that looked foreign to him even if they had been intimate many times before. “He glanced down at a picture that he was even more unfamiliar to him. An almost entirely black photograph, dates were written in the corners, the time, subject, and then the being. “Fetus X.” Was the name they had given the photo. “Fetus X?” He threw the file back n the table. This time the cool demeanor of Striker fading away. “I told you this was the concern of our department and the state of Toronto. Creeds hand wrapped itself around Strikers weasel like neck. Living him off the floor and over Victors head, he could hear the oxygen leave the room as the other scientists and Doctors watched on in horror and stuck to their seats, too afraid to leave. “You knocked her up? And you didn’t even have the damn decency to let me know? You’re turning her into a damn Petri dish!” He squeezed hard enough to make Striker jump, and as a result make his glasses fall and hit the floor. “We supplemented her Birth control, we needed this to happen.” He explained. “Keep going.” The threat became even more real as Creeds claws started to draw blood. “Weapon X, is the biological father. We needed his DNA, we need to know w-what makes his mutation so lethal.” After hearing this he threw The man into the nearest wall. HIs body hit the ground like a stack of bricks hit concrete. Victor said nothing as he started to leave the room. As he rubbed his neck, Striker regained his confidence. “If it changes anything, she wants this child.” Creeds stare was the coldest and murderous you could ever imagine seeing. The yellow orange eyes of his filled with such anger it could rival that of a volcanos lava that had just reached the surface.

“You better pray that I don’t find her first.”

#victor creed x oc #wolverine x oc #wolverine x reader #victor creed x reader #X-men OC #X-MEN FANFIC #X-men #marvel #marvel x reader #sabertooth x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #avengers #Weapon X

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biclarisselarue · 3 years

Note

hi! I just wanted to say I love your writing 😳

mafia au + enemies to lovers + any prompt you want 💕

It’s been almost three hours now, and Percy feels as if he couldn’t move anymore even if he wanted to. Crouching behind a statue of some forgotten god is wreaking havoc on his back. If this potential lead turns out to be another dead end and he wasted a perfectly good evening staking out some dusty museum, even if that museum is owned by one of his best friends, he might have to officially retire from the private investigating business altogether. He’s only twenty-eight, he’s sure he could probably find some cushy job to pay the bills.

All thoughts of a comfortable office chair and a job where he isn’t shot at on the regular are chased from his mind as a shadowy figure creeps into the room. The movements are graceful, quieter than any normal human being has a right to be. Percy tenses, hand creeping to the gun by his hip. The room is dark, lit only by the slight shine the moon reflects through the expansive skylights above. His breath slows, watching as the lithe form approaches, their face turned upwards to a statue near his own. One more step brings them directly beneath a skylight, and his thief’s face is revealed.

Annabeth Chase.

Percy’s breath catches in his throat. Even knowing all of the dark rumors that follow her like shadows can’t stop him from admiring the cut of her jaw, the curve of her throat as she continues to stare at the statue, unaware of his presence. The most notorious mafia boss on this side of the country, standing less than three feet away from him. She’s dressed in all black, loose joggers and a warm turtleneck. He would laugh at the cliche if it weren’t for how dangerously prepared she looks, pistol tucked into the waistband of her pants.

They’re still for a long moment, each gazing at something beautiful. Eventually, Annabeth lets out a soft breath that sounds almost like a sigh and reaches out with gloved fingers to lightly touch the statue’s upturned hand. Her eyes close as if gathering strength, and Percy takes his moment. He steps out from his hiding spot and trains his gun on the back of her head, hands certain and steady.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

There’s not a twitch from the figure in front of him, no sign that she’s even slightly surprised to be caught here tonight. Still, Annabeth Chase does as he asks, keeping her hands where he can see them, away from her gun. Her eyes are bright under the moon, clever and and almost as sharp as her smile.

“Percy Jackson.”

That was not what he was expecting her to say, and she knows it. Her smile widens into a grin. Silence stretches between them as he waits for her to say something else, but she simply continues watching him, the picture of ease. It’s a challenge—one he quickly loses.

“So, you’re the one who’s been breaking in here almost every night for the past month then. I can’t fucking wait to tell Reyna I was actually right about a potential burglar. Though, I would figure you of all people would be more careful about dust patterns.”

A slender shoulder shrugs, unbothered. “Ah, you got me. Nobody else seemed to notice. Very smart of you.” There’s a hint of satisfaction in her voice, and Percy’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah, well, your casing of the joint is done now, so whatever job you’ve got planned is also finished. I’m bringing you in for breaking and entering.”

Her laugh is soft as she takes a step forward, and Percy’s aim lowers down to her heart in warning.

Annabeth’s eyes widen, too much for it to not be fake. “Alright, easy there. But you will have to come closer at some point if you don’t want to stand here until morning. I'm not exactly going to handcuff myself.”

Percy would be an idiot to trust anything she says, but she’s also right. His arms wouldn’t be able to stay raised like this for long enough, and he’s already tired from the late hour. Wrestling with the decision for a couple more seconds, he eventually moves cautiously towards her, watching carefully.

“Would it be too obvious to say no funny business?”

The smile she gives him is amused, and she watches him right back as he shifts the gun to one hand in order to pull out his handcuffs. “Almost certainly.” As he takes one of her wrists in his—and here he decidedly does not notice how warm and soft her skin is above the glove—she leans forward ever so slightly. She’s close enough that he can smell her perfume, a hint of lemon and something sweet.

“You’re wrong about one thing, you know.” Percy simply raises an eyebrow, bringing the handcuff up. “I wasn’t casing this place at all.”

When he looks back on it, the next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. Annabeth tugs her wrist backwards, causing him to stumble closer, their chests almost touching. The scent of lemon becomes more prominent, and Percy hesitates. Then she disarms him with a twist of her other wrist, hooks a leg around his ankle to knock him off his feet, and brings her own pistol under his chin. His handcuff is locked around one of her wrists though, and he’ll take whatever win he can get. Percy locks the other side around his own wrist, smirking.

“Probably don’t want to have to drag around a dead body, do you?”

Annabeth quirks one eyebrow at him, and he feels the smugness fade slightly at the sight. Her knee is pressing into his chest just on the side of painful, but it’s positioned carefully to not do any real damage.

“You presumably have the key for these handcuffs somewhere on your person though, don’t you? Wouldn’t take long for me to find it after killing you, I bet.” He huffs, conceding the point. “Luckily for you, I’m not going to kill you tonight.”

“Oh? Do you have another date in mind? I’d love to mark it down on my calendar.”

She presses her pistol a little further into his skin, a warning not unlike his own from earlier. “Listen. I was hoping you’d notice the dust being misplaced, even if it took you longer than I anticipated. Maybe I should have picked someplace you frequent more often, but I suppose I have a soft spot for the Greeks and their art. Infamous, in part because someone made them untouchable, placing them here.”

As he looks up at her, caught in the trap she laid, he can’t help but agree. Chase had always seemed invincible, unknowable, but with her warm breath ghosting across his face, a crack forms in the illusion.

“So, why all this then? What could you possibly need from me that you went to so much trouble to orchestrate this whole thing away from prying eyes?”

There’s a pause, as if she’s debating whether to trust him, her mouth drawn into a frown. For the first time tonight, she seems fully human, uncertainty turning her into something touchable. Percy can feel her muscles are tense in every spot they’re touching, and he finally recognizes her body language. She has nowhere else to turn. She’s cornered, and she hates it. Another crack in the illusion.

“I want to hire you. You’re a PI, are you not? And I have reason to believe my brother is planning to kill me.”

Malcolm Chase, the second in command of her organization and not without substantial power and a devoted following of his own. No wonder she didn’t feel as if she could turn to anyone closer. If her own brother might be plotting her assassination, who else might be helping his betrayal?

“And why should I help you? You’re the leader of the mafia, and, if the rumors are to be believed, a cold-blooded murderer without anything that could even remotely be considered a heart.”

She sits off of him, tucking her pistol back into her waistband. Their hands are still connected by the metal circling them, and her pinky finger ghosts against his palm, too quickly for him to know if it was on purpose. He follows her lead, albeit a bit more slowly, and sits up. Annabeth’s gaze is pointed towards the darker corners of the room, as sharp as ever, but now he can see the desperation behind them.

“Because I’m asking you to. Because you’re the best in the business.”

The unspoken because I might die if you don’t hangs between them. The illusion shatters, and now he’s sitting beside someone knowable. Dangerous, yes, but human all the same.

“Fuck.” Percy reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key for the handcuffs, drawing Annabeth’s eyes back towards him. She looks as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he can’t tell if it’s an act. He can’t tell if that matters to him anymore. “I’ll help you. Now what?”

#i hope you like this!! thank you so much sending this in!! and for your kind words :')#this is most definitely inspired by my recent bingeing of the penumbra podcast #im on season 2 now anyway its fantastic highly recommend #i am a sucker for a mafia au #the whole thief/detective dynamic?? OOOH yes #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #fics #text #my ramblings #ask

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