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jazzthatonewriterchick · 4 months

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DRABBLE: YOU SPEAK HIS NATIVE LANGUAGE TO HIM (18+) (One Piece) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after remembering that Luffy is Brazilian. Enjoy! And please, PLEASE let me know if any of the foreign phrases used are not correct or accurate. I did the research on Google. Thank you! -Jazz

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LUFFY (PORTGUESE)

You always loved it when Luffy spoke in his native language.

He is from Brazil and though he hadn’t lived there in years since meeting Shanks and traveling among the Grand Line with the Strawhats crew, nothing and nobody could ever take the Brazilian out of him. It was in his blood.

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on).

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned. Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!”

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling.

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry. “Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.”

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!” You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him.

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment.

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.”

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!”

ZORO (JAPANESE)

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese.

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole. “Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.”

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were.

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down.

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat.

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.”

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.”

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. “And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head.

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.”

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.”

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane.

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks. “What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock. “Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him.

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese. Mission accomplished.

SANJI (FRENCH)

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language.

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song. Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”.

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears. “Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).” He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth.

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you.

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you.

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!”

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven.

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)”

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy.

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.”

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”.

LAW (GERMAN)

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew.

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge.

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner.

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!”

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!”

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter.

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.”

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).”

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue.

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table.

“Shut up!” Law growled as you laughed. He was gonna get you back for that later tonight.

#one piece #one piece drabble #my works #my fic shit #my drabbles #fem reader #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you

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gaily-daily-musings · 2 months

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Obi-Wan smiled. He was flattered, really, that a young man would hit on him so brazenly. But perhaps Anakin–as he so boldly introduced himself while simultaneously asking for his number –was a little drunk? He'd slurred the words slightly and it was rather dark in here. He probably couldn't see the gray in Obi-Wan's hair or the lines in his face.

“I'm 38.” Obi-Wan clarifies. There, Anakin would realize his mistake and slink back to his friends, off to find a new conquest.

“Oh, well then what's your email?”

Obi-Wan pauses. He tilts his head and squints. He lifts a brow in disbelief and just a tiny bit of begrudging respect. Anakin smirks back at him like he thinks he's got it in the bag. Obi-Wan mildly wonders if this was a bet.

“Just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't possess a phone number.”

“Hey, either or is fine with me!” Anakin is still grinning.

Oh what was the harm? Anakin was never going to contact him anyway.

Obi-Wan holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Anakin happily does so. Obi-Wan punches it in and files it under “old man.” Just in case Ankin needed reminding. The younger man takes his phone back and winks.

“See you later, daddy.”

Despite everything, Obi-Wan feels his heart thump. Thank God Anakin wasn't actually going to text him. It would definitely be too much trouble.

#obikin #my drabbles

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jamminvroomvroom · 7 months

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here me out, friends and bennies with oscar, but you guys both secretly have feelings for each other, then a fight breaks out cause he gets jealous at a club or something, then an angsty fight breaks but it ends with smut or something 🤭

messy

OP81 x reader

ty for the request! big in my oscar feels atm <3 i don’t loveeee how this turned out but i think i wanna expand this trope with oscar at some point

warnings: minors dni! 18+! language, creepy man in the club, implied smut, alcohol, sl*t is used in a not sexy way, implied physical fight, minor angst, some fluff

you liked to pretend there was nothing going on, that the way he looked at you didn’t affect you and that you hadn’t gotten all dressed up for him.

your relationship with oscar was complicated, friends with a bit on the side when the stress of his job and life got a bit too much and you each needed the extra comfort.

oscar didn’t seem like the type to engage in this kind of thing, in fact you’d never even looked at him that way before, until the night he won the f2 championship and you’d taken a heated tumble into his bed. it didn’t happen again for a while, you’d both managed to keep the urge at bay, but when he woke up in the middle of the night to the alpine fiasco, you were the one he called. you were the one he flew out to bahrain at the beginning of the f1 season, and you were the one that occupied his bed on most race weekends.

it wasn’t a thing, or, to put it more accurately, you both pretended it wasn’t a thing. you viewed yourself as emotional support, stress relief, a very close friend. you viewed him as a person that you could easily fall in love with, but you couldn’t get into the habit of thinking like that.

nonetheless, there you were in a club somewhere in japan, looking far too good to act like you didn’t have a motive. lando had dragged you and some others out, a double podium in suzuka the perfect excuse for a messy night in a foreign city.

oscar may have been good at hiding just how elated he was, but you knew him better than the media did, and you knew exactly how ready he was to celebrate.

in the spirit of having a good time, you’d disappeared over to the bar, fully intending on starting the night off on a high. you were ordering a round of shots when it got messy. it just wasn’t the kind of messy you’d anticipated.

a hand on your waist lured you in, assuming it was oscar, considering how confident the touch was. you leaned into it, but the hand felt wrong, the mould of it against the curve of you waist was wrong.

“what’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” the mystery man slurred into your ear, making you shiver in all the wrong ways. the line was icky and the way you felt his breath hit the curve of your ear was just plain disgusting. he wasn’t oscar.

“not you, that’s for sure.” you mumbled, pulling away. the hand on the waist tightened and you panicked.

the next few seconds were a blur, a flash of indistinguishable words coming from the creep, oscar’s body between you and the man, lando stood assertively behind him. you couldn’t tell what was being said, the music too loud and the sick twist in your stomach too prominent to focus. all you caught was the delightful asshole calling you an “f1 groupie slut”, and that’s when everything slowed down.

oscar knocked him on his sorry arse, while lando tried to move you out of harms way. your best friend, who would never hurt a fly, as harmless as a person could be was furious, and you couldn’t keep up with his movements as he handled the situation. you caught lando guiding the less than impressed bouncers to the pathetic mess on the floor, while oscar turned to you.

“are you okay? i’m so sorry, did he hurt you?” he cupped your face, shocking you. pda was not his thing. you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, finally at ease.

“just… take me back to the hotel.” you sighed. the privilege of being an f1 driver, you supposed, was the way all he had to do was nod at the bouncers and they let him leave.

it was all too much, the unwanted attention, a new side of the usually monotonous f1 driver, the confusion. oscar had defended you like his life depended on it, like you were his to defend. it topped protecting a friend, he had been blind with rage until the guy was indisposed. oscar didn’t just do things like that, that’s what had shocked you more than anything.

you were in a daze when the fresh air hit you, getting into the car that pulled up. the ride back to the hotel was dead silent, the city lights being both a perfect distraction and a banging headache in the making. you couldn’t stop yourself from looking out the window, though, because if you did, you’d have to look down at his hand intertwined with yours, and you didn’t think you could face that quite yet.

you didn’t get it. were you falling for him? of course you were. but he’d never given even a smidgen of indication that he felt the same way, and now what? he was scrapping in clubs with drunken idiots? over you? it made no sense, you didn’t know how to make it make sense.

the car slowed and your door was being opened for you. you stepped out, finding your feet as you walked on shaky legs into the foyer. oscar’s hand found the small of your back and despite better judgment, you fell into step beside him. he was so familiar, so comforting, you knew you were too far gone.

the way he looked at you in the elevator was dangerous, like he was staring into your bare soul, like he wanted to take you apart and put you back together.

he stepped towards you in the enclosed space. you reached out for him meeting halfway and then it was blissful. his lips slotted over yours, fireworks, hands on your body, frantic. yours were in his hair, threading through his curtains, a symptom of too much time on the road without a haircut. you liked this look though, he looked older, more undone. your back was against the cold wall and you moaned when his lips hit your neck, marking you up for the first time ever. was he making a statement?

“oscar-“ you started, ready to open a can of worms and questions, but you were interrupted by the ‘ding!’ of the elevator. it seemed to break the trance you were in and you both shuffled out of the lift.

“i think i should go back to my room.” you said quietly.

“oh.” was all oscar could muster, not trying to hide his disappointment one bit.

“i’m just… oscar, i’m confused.” you averted eye contact, looking longingly down the hallway towards your room.

“about what? about us?” he sounded defensive.

“is there an us? i don’t even know what this is anymore.” you sighed.

“‘is there an us?’ are you joking?” the defensiveness progressed into a state of pissed off, another rarity for him.

“i’ve never seen that side of you before, we’ve never been like this before.” you pointed between the pair of you, the weight of the space seeming to heavy to bare.

“i couldn’t just let that guy freak you out, it scared the shit out of me watching someone make you that uncomfortable. the idea of someone getting into your space, touching you…” he trailed off.

“why? why do you care so much? because we sleep together? because you didn’t like that it wasn’t you touching me?” the frustration got too much and the words you’d been threatening to say for months came spilling out.

“because you’re too important to me! because you mean more to me than i can even begin to understand.” a raised voice that you couldn’t recall hearing hit your ears and your heart sped up, ringing in your ears.

“oscar, i’m scared.”

“of me?”

“of losing you. what we have now, well, it is what it is. but you’re my best friend and the idea of anything changing, as much as i want it too-“

“do you want me? do you?” his eyebrows furrowed and his voice wavered in a way that made your stomach drop.

your eyes betrayed you immediately and he was kissing you again, softer this time, passionately. the hotel corridor felt too exposed for such intimacy and he was leading you back to his room. the door shut and your clothes were gone, a trail of them formed from the entrance to the foot of his king sized bed.

everything about that night still lingered on your skin. his butter melting kisses, finger prints on your hips, the drag of his grown out hair tickling the delicate skin of your inner thighs. you’d made sure to leave your mark too, his thick neck bruised purple, the trace of your fingerprints right over his heart.

it was all permanent now, every kiss, touch, whisper of affection, and when you fell into bed with him, weekend after weekend, it was the bed that you shared. he was all yours and you were more than happy to let yourself fall in love.

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whumblr · 15 days

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Warning

"You know what's a shame... Soon, people will not even remember you anymore."

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Whumpee snarled in return, watching with their hands bound behind their back, sitting on their knees as Whumper paced back and forth in front of them.

"I mean, hell, they'll definitely remember you," Whumper continued, ignoring the outburst. "But not in the way you'd want to. Like, how nice you were to them or how much effort you always put into things... how you helped them. Your smile, the twinkle in your eyes, your little preferences, the sound of your voi-- ah, no, wait, they'll definitely remember your voice."

He traced off ominously, a sly grin finally forming on his lips before he carried on.

"Instead, people will look away when your name falls, shudder at the memories the mere mention of you evokes. After a while, they will not even want to think about you. Because the image that comes along with you is too horrible to even think about.

All that you were, it will all be engulfed and you will be so much more. You, my dear, are about to become a warning."

He finally stopped pacing, looked at the stunned Whumpee who finally looked up with fear in their eyes.

"A warning not to mess with me," he said and knelt down in front of them, brushing a lock of hair from their face. "Don't you worry, darling, it's nothing personal."

General whump tag: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan

#whump #whump drabble #whump writing #angst #captivity #team whump #implied torture #emotional whump #threats #threatening whumper #creepy whumper #my writing #my drabbles

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sanguinesweets · 7 months

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syzoth x reader brainrot below the cut

• Your first kiss is kinda weird. Syzoth isn't used to giving/recieving affection in his human form, so your faces bump into each other a few times before you finally meet your target. His eyes are open the whole time, and you try to hold back giggles as not to discourage him.

• As he becomes more accustomed to kissing you, makeout sessions also become a thing you tutor him on. He seemed curious the first time you slipped your tongue into his mouth, not disliking it but also not really understanding it. So you guide him in moving his mouth against yours, and it doesn't take long for his prehensile, forked tongue to slip past your lips as he wraps his arms around you.

• Sometimes his long, scaly tail makes an appearance out of nowhere, even when the rest of his body is visibly human. You have learned through accidentally petting it before that it is... a particularly sensitive zone for him. You still blush when you think about the soft moan that escaped his mouth the first time you ran your fingers along the individual scales, hard muscle lying underneath.

• Syzoth is gentleman when it comes to kissing and caressing you... until you ask him to do otherwise. When you urge him to be a little more rough, to leave marks along your neck and grind down into you like an animal in heat, well, he can certainly deliver.

• Foreplay is also a newer experience for the Zaterran, at least in his human form. When your encounters start to get spicier, you have to show him the ropes a little here and there, but he's a quick leaner.

He takes immense pleasure in fingering you, the smell of your arousal driving him wild as he elicits whines and moans from your slackened jaw. Eating you out also becomes one of his favorite activities (and yours as well), as his tongue can drive you absolutely wild and make you cum like no one else ever has.

As for recieving, he's a little shy about it at first, but with time opens up to your gentle caresses and strokes, being driven wild whenever you have your hands on him. It's a constant struggle for him not to cum immediately when you take his length into your mouth, his pale green eyes rolling back into his head and legs shaking beneath you.

• He's very versatile when it comes to sex. There aren't any complaints if you want him to top you (though you do develop a system of how hard you want it, after a while, as some days you want to get dicked down like it's mating season, others, you want it nice and slow). Although he'll blush bright green if you point it out, he absolutely loves it when you're on top, and enjoys holding on to your waist as you ride him.

• He's a cold-blooded boy, so he'll definitely choose to snuggle close to you after activities, or during the night, to share some of your heat and take a little nap.

• Taking him to Walmart and buying him a tupperware of live crickets from their fishing section (his fav snack).

#my drabbles #syzoth #reptile #mortal kombat #syzoth x reader #sorry this is more a collection of thoughts than anything else #i have ideas for oneshots but i'll incubate them here intil i have the brain power #mk1 #human syzoth did a number on my psyche #nsf/w

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bucksangel · 2 months

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angel ik it’s about 12 hours later since you posted about being bored and wanting some asks, but i’ve just woken up and am just imagining how it would feel waking up next to bucky, him trying to pull you back into bed with “come back to bed doll, it’s too early to get up” as he basically drags you into him so he can have you in his arms again. (can you tell i want a bucky to stop me from going to work by basically suffocating me in his arms) 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

ok ok but same?? i just woke up and thank GOD i don't have to work today bc if i did and had a bucky in my bed i'd be forced to call out bc there's no way i'm gonna pass up the opportunity to get squished to death between those arms

and now you've given me inspo so here you go <3 (this is also the shortest thing i've ever written it feels weird)

Just One More

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 828

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, kissing and smooching, that's it i think

Everything is soft, warm, and hazy, it’s almost like being wrapped in the morning sun's rays as you float across the sky on a cloud. True peace exists only at this moment; Bucky’s arms are wrapped around your body, sleeping with his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair, absentmindedly kissing the top of his head.

But then your damn alarm decides to go off louder than ever - the alarm’s tone doesn’t change, it just always seems to be louder whenever you’re too comfortable to get out of bed. And dear Lord you don’t want to. You want to stay right here all day, only getting up to eat or use the bathroom. Other than that, you’d be adamant that neither of you were to leave your little bubble of love.

You’re nearly unable to reach your phone due to Bucky lying almost fully on top of you, but you manage to snag it before the alarm gives him a rude wake-up. Upon stopping it, you drop your phone on the pillow next to you, wrapping your arm around Bucky’s back again to rub up and down in a soothing motion. He stirs under your touch, rubbing his face into your chest like he’s a cat burrowing into a blanket, hiding from the world in the hopes of being allowed a few more minutes of sleep.

He groans when you laugh, your fingernails scratching at his scalp.

“Honey?” You whisper softly, kissing his forehead. “Baby, come on, we have to get up.”

“No,” he grunts, blindly reaching up one of his arms so he can cover your eyes with his hand. “Go back to sleep.”

You can’t help but laugh a little louder, especially when Bucky starts grumbling about needing his beauty sleep.

“You’re beautiful enough,” you say with a smile, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand off of your face so you can kiss his palm. “We need to get ready.”

Huffing, Bucky lifts his head, blinking several times before giving you a look so mean that others might be afraid, but it only makes you giggle harder. He’s such a baby. And it’s absolutely impossible not to kiss that pout off of his face, so you do. You press a soft, lingering kiss to his plush lips until he stops his whining and leans into it. But then you pull away, and Bucky pouts again.

“You’re going to wake me up and only give me one kiss?” He huffs again as he lifts himself off of your body so he can hover over you, one hand planted next to your head while the other grabs your left hand, threading your fingers together and bringing them up to his mouth so he can kiss your knuckles. “You know I’m going to need at least three more before I can even consider letting you out of this bed.”

“Three?” You ask with a laugh, using your free hand to cup his cheek. “How about two?”

“Four,” He grunts, eyes squinting.

“One?”

“Now that’s just rude!” Bucky exclaims as he pulls further back so he can truly look at you so incredulously that you can’t help but laugh again. “One kiss isn’t good enough. I need five.”

“Oh, now it’s five kisses?” Your giggling continues when he nods, dipping down to steal one. “How about this: I give you four more kisses and then we get up and get ready. Then I’ll give you another five kisses before we leave. Deal?”

Bucky sighs, knowing he’s lost this battle. Damn you and your tempting lips.

“Fine,” He grumbles, leaning down again.

With each kiss he gives you, you mumble one, two, three. But the final kiss gets a little more heated. His tongue slips through your lips and into your mouth, neither of you caring about the fact that you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. How can you when the man you love is so adamant about showing his affection for you that he gets genuinely upset when he can’t even hold your hand?

Before you lose yourself too far in the kiss, you pull away breathlessly. “Four.”

Bucky sighs, pulling away and rolling off your body. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes while you sit up and stretch, letting the blanket fall into your lap. It’s just as you move to get out of bed when he grabs your wrist again.

“Baby,” He says, causing you to turn and look at him with a playfully raised eyebrow. “Just one more?”

He smiles when you roll your eyes because just like he can never say no to you, he knows that you’d never deny him of anything that makes him happy. One final time, you lean over and kiss him, pulling away almost immediately so he can’t wrap his arms around you - because then you know you’d never leave the bed.

“Now, come on. We can’t be late to our own wedding.”

#hali <3 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader imagine #my writing #my drabbles #˚ʚ friends ɞ˚#𖥔 ๋ .•⋆. love letters .⋆•. ๋𖥔

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doofwrites · 4 months

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#percabeth #smartwater #blueprint #otp: the blueprint #percy jackson #annabeth chase #listen blueprint is just such a layered shipname and no one else needs to use it but it’s my personal fave LOL #percy jackson spoilers #pjo spoilers #me trying to save the non-book readers rn #drabble #my fics #my drabbles #pjo book spoilers

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

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NSFW ! Thomas Hewitt hc’s

A little bit dangerous / but baby, that’s how I want it

*cw include mention of cnc and mention of slight gore* MDNI - 18+

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

• big boy, big hands, big fat ddddd - i don’t make the rules *shrugs*

• his fingers are like sausages on his hands, and are bigger and thicker than pretty much everyone else’s he comes across. i’ve always noticed how big and meaty his hands are, and the thought that they could crush someone’s skull just as easily as they could hold a kitten is just… unnnf

• his hands are quite large, warm, and super calloused from his day to day life. i hc that since his family is elderly he ends up doing a lot for them, and that includes housework, maybe some repairs, and definitely anything to do with getting food on the table. rough, weathered hands that can be gentle is one of the sexiest things ever.

• despite his sheer size and strength, tommy is an incredibly gentle lover. he’s a very sweet and considerate partner.

• after some practice and allowing his confidence to grow, those big hands know exactly what they’re doing- and a man with big hands that knows how to use them? *swoons*

• he’s a switch; can be a top or a bottom. loves being ridden but also loves being in control

• did not know pretty much anything about sex growing up, uncle charlie tried to explain it to him but you can imagine how well that went. this may have resulted in thomas having some unnatural fears when it comes to intimacy, but thankfully he's a quick study and is open to positive influence when there are good feelings associated.

• this can mean that this sweet boy can be talked into doing pretty much anything. as long as he understands there's nothing to be afraid of, and that if he doesn't like something he can always stop/indicate that he wants to stop.

• for example, he would only be open to cnc if he understands that it's a game - i really don't think he would be able to violate someone that way (which might sound weird considering he chainsaws people in half and then cuts off their faces and wears them...) as long as he knows it's for fun i feel like he would be open to anything

• sooo considerate afterwards - a total sweetheart who absolutely jumps at the chance to do aftercare

• he is always hot - figuratively and literally. i hc that his big boy body is like a furnace. this means the ultimate snuggle time in the winter, and just in general.

• he’s long and thick down there, lawd have mercy. like, almost doesn’t fit all the way he’s so big. and his balls are large and heavy, full of hot seed, and they swing back and forth when he thrusts, creating the perfect titillating sensation.

• when he cums… dear god. it’s like the hoover dam breaking open. he definitely needs lots of towels to clean up afterwards - or just straight up jumping in the bath/shower to rinse off

• his favorite positions are missionary and being ridden - the best of both worlds

• and he absolutely loves sex in the shower/bath. he is super touch starved, especially in the romantic sense, so that level of intimacy completely blows his mind.

• he adores being praised; being told what a good boy he is, how good what he's doing feels. he likes to know when he's doing something right - it is a huge confidence boost for this shy guy

• he actually isn't as quiet during sex as one may think. not that he says anything, but the noises he makes instead are equally as good. low groans, pitiful moans when something feels too good, and even growling when he cums. thomas is just so animalistic in nature, and much like when he's chasing after someone with his chainsaw, sometimes the beast just needs to be unleashed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande.

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stevesjockstrap · 8 months

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Feral linecook Eddie Munson shamelessly flirting with brand new never worked in a kitchen before in his life server Steve Harrington

Makes a point to fuck up dishes for his tables so they get returned and he gets to see the embarrassed blush across his freckled cheeks when he brings them back, and so he has to spend more time at the window where Eddie can say raunchy things to him

Eddie showing him diligently how to do his side work before he can leave, so he can walk out with him and offer him a hit of his joint when they’re done

Steve scared to put in his tickets for his own meals because then Eddie will know he’s on break and take his own break, sprawled out on a folding chair in the back room, shamelessly staring at him

Steve staring back at his tattoos and piercings and the little tendrils of hair that fall out of his updo

Gareth beside him on the line snickering into his shoulder at the absolutely unhinged things Eddie gets away with saying and doing

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie au #steddie restaurant au #idk #mine #my drabbles

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buckyownsmylife · 3 months

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how do we feel about being bruce wayne's sweet, brainless, free use housewife that he has for stress relief? just a thought.... (love, j.d./mypoisonedvine)

He doesn't even say "I need you". Then again, he doesn't even have to. Every night, after a big fight - and you always know when it was one of those nights - he just burst into the room you were in, bent you over the nearest object, and drove his cock, fully hard, into you, waiting just long enough to let you get used to its delicious thickness before fucking you long and hard until you were brainless and whiny, exactly the way he wanted you.

You'd cum in minutes, loving being the one he used to deal with the stress of his work. But he wouldn't let you go, oh, no. He'd keep fucking you again and again, pulling orgasm after orgasm until you were passed out under him, legs shaking and mouth open in a silent scream. Once you had cum maybe five times, he'd turn you around, have you spread open for him on the kitchen counter, eat you like the dessert you were.

He deserved it after the night he had...

And you'd do anything for him. His dumb little housewife, whose only reason to live was to make him happy and sated and human, for once. You'd spread your legs every single time, let him lap you up like the starving man that he was.

You knew that he needed it.

And frankly, you needed it too.

#bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #smut #my drabbles

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 9 months

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DRABBLE: YOU'RE THE CUTEST BIMBO HE'S EVER SEEN (18+) (MHA) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Idk...I like the bimbo shit. I might make a fic with a bimbo!reader one of these days. Btw, some of these drabbles are meant for chubby/plus-sized readers, but I'll just put that as a note. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

PRO!HITOSHI - Note: Reader is Chubby

When he sees you for the first time, he is as intrigued as he is rock-hard the very moment he sees you in your little pink thong bikini.

He is down the shore with Denki after being forced to take a trip to get out of the sweltering, congested Tokyo heat for a while. Don’t get him wrong; a nice trip down the shore to get away from the villain activity and constant rush of the city is definitely a nice change of pace. But to walk around semi-naked people isn’t is idea of a relaxing vacation. It’s uncomfortable for him, walking around and seeing so many women with strings up their asses.

“You just need some company,” Denki said when Shinso voiced his concerns to his friend. “This place is swimming with plenty of pretty babes for the choosing, ‘Toshi! Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the top underground hero in Japan?”

Though Denki's compliment works somewhat, Shinso isn’t concerned with meeting someone for a hookup. He isn’t even really interested in sex…until he meets you, at least. While Denki is busy trying to flirt with some girls standing by a hot dog stand, Shinso slinks away into a nearby trinket store. His eyes roam over the seashell fridge magnets and snow globes with the fake snow replaced with sand. He thinks about which gift would be good for Eri, his little sister, until his eyes land on you.

There you stand a few feet away at a shelf of trinkets, standing on your tip toes with one of your chunky arms outstretched. You’re trying to reach for a pink seashell-shaped purse on the top shelf, and though you know damn well you can’t reach it, you still try.

Shinso is no longer interested in checking out the store items now that he’s got a look at you. You’re the best thing in here, from your plump little frame to the pink clothes you wear…if you can even call them clothes.

You’re really wearing just a mesh pink cover-up dress with a hot pink bikini underneath. The bikini top ties around your neck and back, exposing your rolls, while the bottoms are stuck in between your luscious, plump asscheeks that all Shinso wants to do is shove his face in. While he’s still uncomfortable seeing you in a thong, it's a different kind of discomfort now. He can feel his cock chub against his shorts, uncomfortably so.

“Excuse me?” It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking to him because of how dazed he is from your ass. You’ve turned around to face him now, showing your front, and dear fuck, does he wish you wouldn’t have. He can now see how the bikini top barely covers your big, juicy breasts and how your tummy bulges slightly over the string waist of your thong. Your lips, kissable and soft, shin in pink, glittery gloss and your cute little fingernails and toenails are coated in pink paint. Everything about you is pink.

He decides that the color fits you especially well when you open your mouth to speak again. “I'm so sorry,” you giggle sheepishly, giving him a smile that feels like a punch in the gut, “but could you help me reach that bag up there?” You point one chunky hand up towards the top shelf. “I’m just too short to reach.”

Shinso blushes at the sound of your voice, so sweet and innocent-sounding. He wonders how you’d sound moaning his name with his cock buried deep inside of you. “Uh, sure,” he replies, his voice sounding dry and gravely. He can barely breathe. You excitedly clap your hands, thanking him profusely for his help. “I was so sure I’d end up tripping over these,” you giggle, pointing down at your pink sandal wedges. What a pretty princess, you are.

“It’s whatever,” Shinso deadpans as he walks over to you. “Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to those shoes.” He glances down at them. “Steve Madden, huh?” he asks, loving it when you flush shyly at his observation. “I had some extra money,” you confess. “So I splurged. But they’re cute, right?!”

‘So, so cute,’ he thinks, but he isn’t referring to the shoes one bit. When he steps beside you to reach for the bag, he catches a whiff of your body spray. It is sweet and delectable, like whipped cream or sugar. God, could you get any cuter? As if answering him, his cock throbs painfully in his shorts. He barely has to stand on his toes to reach the bag, causing you to cutely gasp at his height. “Wow!” you say, shocked. “You’re so tall! I’ve never met anyone as tall as you.”

Shinso chuckles when he grabs the bag and holds it out to you. “Well, now you have. And you’re welcome…” He trails off, wishing you’d take a hint and spill the space in with your name. He watches as you gulp and stare up at him with those big, doe-like eyes as you take the bag from him. When you do, your fingers brush against his, sending an electric shock through him as if Denki just used his quirk on him.

“T-Thank you,” you softly stutter. “And I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr…” You trail off too, cutely puckering your lips. “No Mr,” Shinso chuckles. “Just Shinso. Or Hitoshi. Whichever you want.”

You tap one painted nail against your chin thoughtfully. “Hit-o-shi,” you carefully pronounce. Shinso has to suppress a groan at the sight of your soft lips forming his name.

“Can I call you ‘Toshi?” you ask, hope in your eyes. And something more. Mischief, it looks like. Hitoshi’s interest reaches its peak when he realizes that there is a whole other side to you than the cute, innocent persona he’s seeing right now.

He copies your move and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin, earning a sweet giggle from you. “Only if I can call you princess,” he replies smoothly. “And maybe buy you somethin’ to eat? I’ll admit that I’m not too familiar with the boardwalk though.”

You look rather shy from the pet name, but you don’t let that stop you from conversing more with him. “Is it your first time here?” you ask, gasping when he nods. “Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun! They have the best funnel cakes and pizza here! I’ll tell you what, ‘Toshi: I’ll treat you to food for doing such a good deed and helping me get my bag. Deal?”

You reach your hand out for him, peering up at him through your thick, doll-like lashes. All Shinso wants to do is fuck you silly while you look at him like that, but instead, he takes your hand, smirking at the way you bite your lip. “It’s a deal, princess,” he huskily says.

SHIGIRAKI - There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to people. There’s just no way! Do you know what you’re doing to him?

These are the thoughts that run through Shiggy’s head when you step into the dimly-lit, crowded bar with Toga by your side. The two of you giggle to each other, looking like the best of friends in your little sundresses and tiny purses that hang off of your wrists. The only difference between you and Toma the combination of innocence and sexiness you seem to ooze.

Toga had said she was inviting a friend of hers to the annual bar hop adventures she, Shiggy, and half of the LOV always have at this exact bar. Dabi knows the guy so they get drinks half off and the cops aren’t called despite them being out and about in the city. He sits with Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Twice (who won’t shut the fuck up) now, a whiskey in his hand that he knows he’s going to need when you finally come up to greet him.

Shiggy was initially against Toga bringing a stranger into their activities. “What if she talks?” he hissed. “How can you be so sure she won’t blab to the police about us? How do you even know this girl?” Toga barely gave him a glance as she poured herself some juice in the kitchen in their lair. “She’s an old childhood friend of mine,” she explained. “And no, she’s not gonna talk because she hates cops and heroes. I promise you’ll love her! She’s got a wicked streak to her.”

When he sees you, he can’t tell what about you is so ‘wicked’. You look like the cutest package of candy in your short, pink sundress that barely covers your ass or your tits that jiggle enticingly. He doesn’t even think you’re wearing a bra. You paired the dress with some pink heels, a charm bracelet, and two high pigtails that he envisions yanking on while his cock is buried deep in your–

“Hey, guys!” Toga giggles when she finally makes it to the stools. Shiggy nearly jumps out of his skin, earning a low chuckle out of Dabi. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one from my childhood? I told you I was bringing her tonight, remember?” She gives you a toothy, excited grin, allowing you to introduce yourself further.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say in your sugary, sweet voice that washes over Shiggy. “I hope I’m not interrupting your night out, but Toga insisted I meet you all.” Twice is the first one to make an impression, hopping out of his seat to greet you. “Not at all!” he brightly chirps. “I’m Twice, by the way. This here is Dabi, Spinner, and Shiggy.”

Spinner gives you a nod while Dabi only glances and Shiggy glares at Twice. “Shigaraki,” he corrects his friend. Toga rolls her hazel eyes while you giggle to yourself. “Ignore him,” she sighs. "Come, sit right here with me! I’ll order us some drinks. Do you like those fruity ones?”

Eagerly, you nod, making you even cuter. You then turn to him, your big eyes stopping him short of breathing. “Um…is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing one red-painted nail at the empty stool. To anyone else, he would’ve said something smart, but he can’t even muster words with how soft your lips look and the sweet smell of your perfume filling his senses. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. He’s never had any woman make him feel this way before. He thought these kinds of feelings were long gone.

He nods, earning a blinding smile from you as you take a seat. As you do, the hem of your dress rides up, revealing a sliver of thigh that has Shiggy’s cock throbbing uncomfortably in his sweats. From his right side, Dabi leans in towards him. “You’d better snag that before someone else does, Shig,” he teasingly whispers. “That someone bein’ me.”

Shiggy glances at his friend, irked at his attempt at pushing his buttons. He knows Dabi also has a thing for innocence; especially ruining it. He turns to you, already finding you looking at him. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?” you ask, quiet excitement in your voice. Shiggy blinks, confused as to what you mean, until you point at his band shirt. “I like them too! Have you ever been to one of their shoes?”

It takes Shiggy some time to process words, but he doesn’t keep you waiting or questioning yourself. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “Two years ago. You listen to metal like that?” His eyes graze over your outfit and your body, picturing you without clothes. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

You giggle, adorably scrunching you nose. “It doesn’t,” you agree, “but yeah! I’m into a lot of hard metal and rock, but not too much screamo. That doesn’t keep me out of Hot Topic though.” Shiggy smirks at your confession and nods down at his wrist. You look down, gasping at the spiked Hot Topic bracelet sitting there. “It’s like we’re one and the same,” you softly laugh, smiling at the bartender when he lowers your pretty, fruity drink down.

Shiggy watches you sip your drink, your gloss stain on the glass rim making him want to cum all over your mouth. “Are we really?” he asks, but not unkindly. He is actually very curious and interested in you. What is it about you that Toga likes?

He gets his answer when you turn to him, a mischievous, dark glint in your pretty eyes. Despite your cutesy appearance and pretty clothes, you now appear before him as someone else. Someone darker. “We could always find out,” you suggest, a slight purr in your voice. He doesn’t know if it’s an accident, but your knee slightly brushes his when you shift in your seat.

Those words are all Shiggy needs. After one too many drinks and the whole “getting to know you” shit, you find yourself underneath him in his bed, your legs up by your ears and your pretty, pink dress on his bedroom floor. Shuddery moans and grunts leave his lips every time he drives his cock into you again and again, his hands wrapped around your ankles. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me, slutty girl.”

You whine for him, your lipgloss smudged off of your lips and pretty breasts jiggling for him as he fucks you into the mattress. “It feels good!” you babble, your mascara smudged. “You feel so good, Shigaraki!”

“Tomura,” he grunts down to you. “Call me Tomura.” Realization clears in your dazed eyes and your pretty face splits into a smile before he swoops down to swirl his tongue with yours in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

A sudden bang comes from above the wall above your head where the headboard bangs against it. “Could you two shut the fuck up?” Dabi yells. “I’m tryin’ to sleep off this whiskey.”

“Yeah!” Toga agrees. “I brought my friend tonight to get to know you, Shiggy, but not like this! You’ll ruin her!” A light giggle leaves your lips as Shiggy continues to rock his hips into your wet, tight walls. You lean up, your sticky lips at his ear. “I’m already ruined,” you whisper. “Can you ruin me more, Tomura?”

Shiggy didn’t need you to repeat. The entire night he spent ruining you over and over again, covering you in his cum until the dawn. Now he thinks you could be an extra good addition to the LOV crew.

PRO!BAKUGOU - Note: Reader is Chubby

He could’ve blown his fucking load when Mina brings you along for mini golf one night.

It’s just an ordinary summer evening where he and the squad are playing mini golf and slurping down milkshakes before you show up. Initially, Bakugou is irked waiting for you and Mina to show up, hating when people are late. “Where the fuck are these two?” he huffs. “They’d better not be doin’ their hair or somethin’ ‘cause I’m gonna be pissed if they are.”

“You know how girls are, ‘Suki,” Kiri chuckles, watching Denki try to aim his ball at a hole surrounded by gnome and fairy statues. “Mina takes forever to do her makeup sometimes, but it’s all to look nice for us. I’d think her friend is doing the same thing.”

As if on cue, Sero announces their arrival from his seat. “Look!” he exclaims, a chocolate milkshake in his hand. “They’re here! And damn, does her friend look good.” Each boy turns to look at you and they can all agree. Especially Bakugou.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you strut up with Mina, arms hooked in one another’s. You’re wearing a low cut, white crop top with a push-up bra that make your breasts look immaculate and delicious and a tiny, pink tennis skirt that starts at the waistband of your pudgy stomach and stops right at the top of your thick, jiggly thighs. You paired this outfit with white Nike low tops and pink knee socks that make you look more innocent than the cute little smile on your face that gets wider the closer you get to him and the guys.

He can’t stop staring at you, especially when you get closer and he gets to drink in all of the other details to you––how short you are compared to him (you barely graze his chest!); the Fenty gloss on your plump lips; the tiny bow clip in your hair; the scent of fruit on your skin that makes him dizzy.

Are you fucking forreal? How are you going to show up like that as if it’s normal? Are you trying to tease him? Are you playing with him? Bakugou can’t help but be irrationally angry from how cute and sexy you are. How is it possible to be both cute and sexy? All he knows is that his dick knows the answer judging by how it’s pushing up against his briefs at the sight of you now.

Mina stops you right in front of him despite his raging hard-on. Just his fucking luck. “Fellas,” she says with a smile, “this is my friend, Y/N. We work together at my agency and she was just dying to meet you guys.”

You flush, becoming shy at Mina’s teasing. “C’mon, Mina,” you softly whine, bumping your hip with hers. God, what Bakugou wouldn’t give to feel those hips in his big hands! Would you let him? There’s no way you wouldn’t. Your short skirt says that you want his hands all over you.

“Oh, really?” Denki asks, raising a brow. He struts up to you, already putting on the charm. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he purrs, shaking your hand. “I’m Denki, by the way. You probably know me as Chargebolt.” He raises your hand to kiss it, but is stopped by Bakugou tossing a golf ball at his head. “Kill the flirting, perv,” he grumbles as Denki rubs his temple, glaring at him.

“Sorry about them,” Mina sighs, but you just giggle. Bakugou’s ears perk at the sound. “That’s Kirishima and Sero aka Red Riot and Cellophane.” Kiri gives you a friendly wave while Sero gives you a wink that Bakugou doesn’t particularly like either. “And Bakugou already made his grand introduction,” Mina sarcastically says.

You finally face him entirely and he sees your smile falter somewhat when your eyes land on his. Bakugou notices immediately. Do you not like what you see? Are you intimidated by him? He backs up to try and give you space, realizing how small you really are…small enough to break…small enough to toss around in a bedroom. His bedroom, preferably.

“Nice to meet all of you,” you sweetly say, though your eyes are still on him. “I'm exposing myself here, but I am a big fan of you guys! I’ve got all your posters and merch!” Everyone except Bakugou laughs at your cute little confession. “Oh, yeah?” Sero asks, raising a pierced brow. “So who’s your favorite hero, Y/N? It’s okay, you can tell us.”

He, Kiri and Denki look at you, interested despite your obvious shyness and discomfort. Even though Bakugou won’t admit it, even he is interested. Even so, he decides to come to your rescue, shocking every single one of his friends. “Ignore them,” he murmurs as he passes you a golf club. “You want next game or what?”

You stare up at him with those big eyes, looking shocked he’s even saying much to you. You wrap one hand around the golf club, giving him a look at your pink manicure. He can’t imagine how they’d look on his cock while you’re stroking it for him. “I would,” you say, “but I’m not much of a player. I wore the right outfit for it though!”

You swish your hips around in your pink skirt, making Bakugou’s cock even harder when he thinks he catches a glimpse of your inner thighs. “Show her, Katsuki!” Kiri shouts from the sidelines. “She is our guest, after all.” The redhead gives him a knowing wink which emits a growl from Bakugou.

“Whatever,” he huffs. Despite being pissed that his friends know he is whipped, he leads you over to one of the golf holes located up on a hill surrounded by wooden fans. You stand to the side, your tongue thoughtfully licking your bottom lip and giving him some awful thoughts about your mouth. “Am I doin’ it right?” you ask, even bending your knees though it’s still the incorrect form.

Bakugou nearly laughs at your cuteness. “Nah, but I’ll give you points for your eagerness. Want me to show you?” You peer at him from over your shoulder and nod. Without even realizing how this looks, he stands behind you, putting a good distance between his front and your back to avoid giving you a taste of his raging bulge.

“Stand with your hips square with your feet,” he explains, doing his best to not breathe in your shampoo. You do so before his hands cup yours over the golf club. “Take it back once, aim for the ball, and…” He helps you swing the club at the ball, your body twisting with his as you do. The ball goes soaring up the hill and into the hole, never missing.

From the sidelines, the gang applauded you. “I did it!” you excitedly shout, turning to him. “We did it!” You jump up and down, giving Bakugou a great view of your breasts jiggling and bouncing about. You’re not making this easy for him at all, especially with that pretty smile on your face. “And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you confess.

Bakugou scowls at you, confused. “Huh?”

You look down at your shoes, suddenly shy. “The guys asked me who my favorite hero was out of all of you,” you softly say. “And it’s you ‘cause you’re so sweet.” Bakugou’s brain short-circuits. Sweet. You think he's sweet! You, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met. Suddenly, the air between you changes to something more open and flirtatious. He wants to know everything about you now.

“Well,” he replies, a smirk on his lips, “maybe you can tell me more about how sweet I am over a milkshake?” You look up at him, excitement in your pretty eyes. “And over a phone call!” Denki calls from the sidelines. “Give her your number, dude!”

Bakugou swears if looks could kill, his friends would be dead by now. But he does, in fact, give you his number at the end of the night.

PRO!KIRI - Note: Reader is Chubby

‘Mine.’

That’s all he can think when he sees you for the first time at the gym. As soon as he sees you in your tight, pink sports bra and shorts that cup your shapely, plump ass so nicely, it’s a fucking wrap for him. You pop up on the treadmill next to him and he immediately notices despite him jogging. So far, he’s at five miles. Another five to go.

He knows he can’t be distracted by anything that will ruin his workout, but so far, the distraction is winning. You glance at him and offer a smile that makes your little cheeks and baby face even cuter. The sight of you nearly knocks the air out of him. He manages to smile back at you, trying his best to not seem menacing with his sharp teeth, but you don’t seem too disarmed.

He then pretends to go back to what he’s doing (working out), but all the while, he pays attention to your every move. He watches as one of your chunky fingers presses the buttons on the treadmill, your fingernail pained a glittery pink. Then you start walking along the moving convator belt, your high ponytail swishing behind you and reminding him of some very naughty things, like wrapping his fist in it while his cock is buried in the delectable pussy that he knows hides behind those shorts.

He’s admittedly never dated a woman of your size or shape before. Honestly, he hasn’t had too many girlfriends due to his demanding job as a pro hero. But looking at the way your breasts jiggle in your sports bra and your soft, chubby waist behind your shorts is making him think differently. Not to mention how short you are. He’s got a thing for short girls. Maybe it’s because of the whole protection thing. He likes feeling tall and big enough to protect his girl from everyone and everything, you? You definitely fit the bill.

These thought scare him slightly. Why is he pining after a whole stranger in a gym and thinking that you’re his? He’s eyeing you down like you’re a piece of food and he’s starving for it. He immediately turns away and blushes as red as his hair. ‘This is so unmanly,’ he thinks, criticizing himself for his behavior.

But goddamn, are you too fine! Most of the men in here seem to think so too. He notices their eyes crawling across your body, stopping on your ass and boobs. He glances at you worriedly, wondering if you notice it too. But you’re too busy singing along to the music in your pink AirPods, your voice making him crack a smile. You’re just too cute!

He doesn’t make his move on the first day though. He waits for about a month before he actually says something to you. Every time he comes in on the weekends, he does so on the same day at the same time hoping to see you. And he does. You strut in wearing your short, tight gym attire with your J’Adore Dior duffle bag, your ponytail bouncing. You greet each other with smiles before he watches you get into your workout, paying close attention to the way your body moves and any gym rats who may want to bother you.

The day he actually makes a move isn’t one he planned on. It’s a Saturday morning and he’s busy with his cool-down stretches, pretending not to be looking at you in the mirror squatting with a kettlebell between your chunky hands. His eyes marvel at your body, wondering how you’d feel in an embrace or underneath him. Those thoughts quickly dissipate though when someone walks up to you.

He is buff and about the same height as Kiri with tattoos and a muscle tee. Immediately, Kiri switches into protection mode and strains to hear your convo. “Hey,” the guy greets you. You pause with your workout, lowering the kettlebell down. “Hi,” you sweetly greet, giving him a smile. Kiri bristles. Those smiles are meant for him only!

“I’m Trent,” the guy says, offering his hand for a shake. You take it, still the sweetheart. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself. Kiri notices that Trent’s hand lingers a bit more than necessary before it drops from yours. “That’s some outfit, y’know,” he chuckles, leaning against one of the machines as he attempts to put the charm on.

“Thanks!” you giggle. “I bought this week. I just love pink. It’s such a pretty color.” Trent nods, his eyes trailing lustfully over your body in your tight one-piece unitard and cropped hoodie that stops just above your sternum. You don’t notice but Kiri does. “You know, I could always help you with this workout,” Trent suggests. "Help you get deeper into those squats.”

You blink at him, obviously confused. “Are you a trainer?” you ask innocently. Kiri feels his cock stir. God, you’re just too cute! Trent smirks down at you. “I can be that and more,” he purrs. “Here, let me get you a mat!”

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you protest. “I-I’m not–“ But he’s already moving to get you a mat and bends down to put it under your feet, eyeing your thighs and calves as he does so. You look so, so uncomfortable.’That’s it!’ Kiri thinks, irked to no end. He’s watched for long enough. He can't stop himself from rising to his feet and storming over to you and Trent, anger stirring within him.

When he stops near you, you’re the first one that sees him. He thinks he sees the corner of your lips twitch into a smile but he isn’t too sure. He stares down at Trent, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I think she said she’s fine, Trent,” he firmly says, practically spitting the guy’s name. “You should listen to her.”

Trent pauses and glares up at Kiri. “What do you care?” he scoffs. “So I suddenly can’t be a nice guy?” Kiri glares back at him, his red eyes sharp. “We both know what you’re bein’ nice for,” he almost growls. “And I’m not about to sit by and watch you bother this girl just for some nookie. Leave her alone before I call security.” He eyes Trent down, daring him to fight this.

Trent stands, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. He glances at you before scoffing to himself and storming off, heading for the locker room. Once he’s gone, you sigh in relief. “Thank you,” you say with gratitude. “I have no idea why he wanted to give me a mat. I didn’t even need one!”

Kiri relaxes, but only slightly. You’re talking to him. You two are really talking! “Don't thank me,” he chuckles modestly. “Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I saw him tryin’ to spit game and you not enjoyin’ it too much, so I just had to step in.” He dares to look down at you and almost creams on the spot at the sight of your cleavage. “W-Well, I’m gonna go and let you–“

“I’m Y/N,” you instantly say, twirling the drawstring to your hoodie. You offer him a gloss-lipped smile that gives him butterflies. “Ejirou,” he replies. “Kiri for short.” You giggle to yourself. “I know; other than you being Red Riot, I hear your name all the time here.” He blushes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a regular here. It’s one of the only gyms that are safer for pros like me.”

“Well, I’ll keep your secret,” you giggle, “but only if you agree for me to buy you lunch for your good deed.” From the way you slightly rub your thighs together and peer up at him through your lashes, he feels like you’re thinking of a lot more than just lunch. And he wants to know just what.

He smirks down at you, trying hard to ignore his dick chubbing in his basketball shorts. “Maybe,” he replies, playing along. “I think I’d need your number for that though. I mean, just to tell you what I like…for lunch.” He almost kicks himself. You giggle to yourself, already pulling your rose gold iPhone out of your pocket. “It’s a date then!” you chirp.

After leaving the gym with your number in his phone, he can’t help but nut to the thought of you while in his car minutes later, the vision of your pretty lips and body coated in his sticky cum making him fuck his fist a little harder. Call him unmanly, but goddamn, he can't wait for the real thing!

DABI - When he first sees your cute little self in your mini skirt that barely covers your ass, he just wants to follow you around and scare anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way.

And that’s exactly what he does. ‘Cause what the fuck are you doing strutting around like that in this club? Don’t you know how you’re dressed? You’re dressed like you want to get fucked. Though he can’t see you from the front, he can tell you’re wearing a halter top judging from the tie around your slender back. And no bra? Those titties must be bouncing everywhere!

As you can damn well tell, Dabi likes the innocent girls…or the girls who look innocent. Something about ruining them and bringing out that nasty, dark, devious side to them that he knows lies deep underneath their soft, pink, sweet personality. And you’re no different.

So he lies deep in the cut and watches you laugh and chat with people, blushing cutely when they compliment your clothes and being completely oblivious to the guys who stare you down like they want to eat you alive. He sips on his drink and eyes your legs, wondering how they’d feel wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for this little game to come to an end. You step outside for some air and he’s right behind you, but he doesn’t go out immediately. He watches as you lean against the wall and dig into your pink purse for your bubblegum. Finally, he comes outside, feeling blessed that he can finally get you alone.

You don't even flinch when he comes up to stand beside you, taking a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. In fact, you give him a smile as you chew on your bubblegum, your pink lips forming an O for a big bubble. He imagines those lips forming an O when you moan while his tongue is buried deep in your cunt that lies beneath that skirt. From his angle, he can finally see the rest of your outfit––a glittery, pink halter top paired with platform boots and luscious, curly hair that makes you look like one of those early 2000s movie stars.

“Want some?” you ask, holding the box of gum out to him. His eyes flick from the box to your big, doe-like eyes rimmed with mascara to make them look almost like a doll’s. Like his pretty little doll. “You’re askin’ a stranger whether or not he wants your gum?” he asks, raising a curious brow at you before puffing on his cig.

You giggle adorably, almost ditzy-like. “You’re not a stranger, silly!” you protest. He blinks down at you, confused. “I saw you when I came into the club with my friend…and while you were following me around.”

Dabi blanches. Fuck, he’s been caught! How did you even notice? “Accept my apology,” he sighs, smoke billowing from his lips. “Couldn't help myself. You just look too damn cute to be in there not bein’ looked after.”

At this, you become shy and advert your eyes as a bashful smile adorns your pretty face. “You know, smoke is a bad habit,” you softly say. He nods, agreeing. “What’s your point?” he asks, paying close attention to your body language. He notices how tight your thighs are pressed together and the way your fingers fiddle with your skirt. You’re wanting something.

“Because…” Your eyes slowly trail back to his, now hooded and lustful. “Nicotine breath ruins kisses,” you purr. “And I’d really like a kiss from you. I have to thank you for watching my back in there, don’t you think?”

Dabi swears he’s never been harder in his life. He’s also have never ditched a cig that wasn’t a stub yet either, but the promise of finally getting your lips on his makes him toss the cig down and crunch it under his shoe.

Several minutes later, your glossy, soft lips are on his, the taste of strawberries in his mouth, while his cock is buried deep in your soft, wet pussy. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he grips your hips, your skirt hiked up and your lace panties pushed to the side to give him all the freedom to fuck you as he pleases. And he does so.

“You’re just like a doll,” he grunts into your ear, growing harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips. “Are you my pretty baby doll tonight?”

All he gets his a broken moan of his name in response. He chuckles to himself as he lifts your leg up slightly and continues to fuck you silly behind the nightclub. He knew you had a devious side.

NATSUO - You were just the cute girl in his class that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You would walk in wearing the cutest outfits known to man, all of them with pink tossed in. His favorite one was the cropped pink sweater and white skirt that swished around your legs and hiked up slightly in the back to give him a sneak peek of your thighs. That was the first day you two met. You had sat in front of him and rummaged around in your backpack, oblivious to Natsuo burning a hole in your back.

You sighed adorably and turned to him randomly, your glossy lips in an adorable pout that had his cock stirring in his jeans. “Hi,” you say with a smile. “Sorry to bug you, but I forgot my pen at home. Do you have one I can borrow?”

It took a minute for Natsuo to answer because he was too busy staring at your lips move, envisioning his dick between them. “U-Uh, yeah,” he finally replied, idiotically so. He dug into his backpack and handed you one of his best ink pens.

You happily smiled as you took the pen from him, your soft fingers grazing against his. “Thanks!” you chirped. “I promise I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day.” And you did. That is when your friendship began. He begins letting you borrow your pens while you send him notes from class if he’s too tired to pay attention and falls asleep during class, dreaming of himself bending you over one of the desks.

When you first asked him to help you study for your midterm exam, he can’t believe his luck. “You’re just so smart,” you whine as you two walk alongside each other in the hall. “I can’t afford to fail, so I need your help. Meet you at your dorms this weekend? I’ll bring snacks!”

He was helpless to refuse you, but the idea of being alone with you this weekend made him want to bust and hide under his bed at the same time. He didn’t have that much experience with girls, especially pretty, cute, adorable ones like you. He spends the whole day cleaning up his space and gargling down Listerine mouthwash before you arrive.

When you do, it’s at 5 PM after you get off your shift. You show up at his door in a pretty, baby pink dress carrying a bag of snacks and sodas. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after Natsuo invites you in and get you situated at the table in the middle of his dorm. “I just know I’m gonna pass with you as a tutor.”

He blushes at the compliment. How is it you’re so sweet? “S’cool,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m happy to help. Thank you for the snacks though.” He ogles at the all of the snacks you pour out of your bag––Pocky boxes; chips; cookies; biscuits. You embarrassingly giggle, picking at your pink nails. “I, uh��like snacks,” you shyly confess.

‘Oh, God,’ Natsuo laments in his head as his cock surges in his sweats. Why the fuck did he wear sweats?! Why the fuck are you so cute?! This is not going to be easy.

It doesn’t get any easier for him as the night goes on. He gets distracted at some points at the crumbs dusting the corner of your mouth or the way you swipe your gloss over your lips. He tries not to freak out when you lean in to point out words you’re having trouble remembering the definitions for, the scent of your birthday cake body wash and the feeling of your bosom against his forearm. Are you doing this on purpose?

Despite him explaining and breaking down the study guide for you, all he can think about is dirtying up your dress with his cum or plunging his cock in and out of the gushy walls of your pussy. It’s impossible not to. He’s practically sweating halfway during the session so he has to strip himself of his hoodie, revealing his blue tee underneath that stretches across his muscles.

When you finally finish the session, it’s around 7 PM and you’ve correctly remembered most of the guide. When Natsuo gives you an approving smile, you squeal and jump on him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cheer, wrapping your arms tight around him. He blushes, feeling your breasts pushing against his chest. “You’re such a good tutor! I’m gonna ace this exam because of you!”

Natsuo laughs at your cuteness, giving you a one-armed hug in respect to you. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It helps when you have such a great student.”

You pull away from him, peering up at him with those big eyes and that pretty face. “You know,” you say, your voice suddenly dipping an octave but still oh-so soft, “I’d hate to leave here and not repay you for such great work.” Your hands find his and you begin playing with his fingers, his cock stirring as you do. “Is there anyway you can think of, Natsuo?” you ask, batting your lashes prettily at him.

Oh, does he. And he knows you exactly what when he has you lying down in his bed with your dress hiked up on your hips where his hands are and his tongue finally fucking your pussy. “Fuck, Natsuo!” you whine, your hands in his snow-white hair. “Please!”

He moans as he pulls his tongue out of your wet hole and stares up at you. “Stop what, honey?” he asks, smiling at your blissful expression. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To repay me?”

His thumb finds your clit and begins slowly rubbing it, relishing the way you squirm for him. “Well, now you can.”

#bnha smut #smutty smut #18+#drabble #bnha drabble #deku x black!reader #my works #my drabbles #bimbo reader #bakugou x fem!reader #hitoshi x fem!reader #natsuo todoroki x fem!reader #dabi x fem!reader #kirishima x fem!reader #chubby reader #black writers #shigaraki x fem!reader

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katnissmellarkkk · 9 months

Note

tis I with a prompt: I request the first time post war Katniss lets Peeta into her bed again 🥺

AN : wrote this the night you sent the prompt but I absolutely hated it until now. I finally got around to cleaning this up a bit and now I think it’s cute? Lemme know, all of y’all, if you like it! And my writing muscles are rusty so send me a prompt if you like, to try and work me out please! Can’t make any promises about what’ll trigger my brain but I can sure try! Anywaysss hope y’all enjoy this lil post-mockingjay-pre-epilogue drabble here!

I watch with dread as Peeta scrubs away the last bit of sauce still dried to his plate.

“You really don’t have to do that,” I murmur halfheartedly from where I lean against the counter, watching him.

“It’s rude to not wash your own plate after dinner,” he says, his tone somewhat coy. He’s teasing me, I realize. He’s maybe even flirting with me but I can’t be sure and even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to make of it.

“I never wash mine after eating at your house,” I mumble, mostly to myself. I know he doesn’t care about cleaning off my plate for me. I know that he knows that I don’t mind washing his plate either.

But I don’t push the point and neither does he. Because we’re both stalling the inevitable.

It’s past ten at night and it’s time for Peeta to go home now. This time comes every day and we should be more prepared for it by this point, but every single night when the sun has long since left the sky and you can barely make out five feet in front of you without a flashlight, Peeta walks out the front door and my chest aches, as he disappears out into the night.

Ask him to stay, a tiny voice that sounds weirdly like both Haymitch and my mother — at the same exact time — pressures me.

But my tongue won’t cooperate and I can’t make the words form on my lips and I feel my stomach flip as I stutter out an awkward goodbye instead.

“Goodnight, Katniss,” Peeta says evenly, his face smooth and peaceful and totally level as he reaches out and squeezes my hand before moving to grab his coat.

He’s walking towards the door and I feel the familiar dread — the dread that’s been my constant companion for longer than I care to remember — rise up in my stomach and for a split second I want to reach out and grasp his elbow. For a split second I want to grab onto him and stop him from leaving.

And for a moment I plan to ask him to stay, to come upstairs with me, to get into his pajamas and brush his teeth by my side at the sink, to crawl beneath the sheets and hold me until we hear birds begin to chirp with the morning light. In that moment I plan to ask him to do exactly what we used to do on the train, exactly what we used to do every single night, back before everything between us completely shattered beyond recognition.

My hand drops midair before I can make the contact with his arm but it catches his attention just the same.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, his face becoming concerned.

“Nothing,” I brush off tightly. Instead of saying what I’m thinking, instead of saying what I want, I just force a smile and lightly graze his hand. “Get home safe.”

At that, he shoots me a bemused look. “I live three houses from you. Somehow I think I’ll be fine.”

I nod and chuckle as he leaves, as he disappears into the night, making the shortest of journeys home, unwittingly leaving me to dwell in regret for all the things I wish I’d just come out and said.

As soon as the door shuts between us regret the size of an elephant lands on my chest.

And I know, without a doubt, this is going to be one bad night for me.

The funny thing about my nightmares is they never lose their edge. Not with time, not with practice, not with comparison. I’ve seen Cato get eaten by the mutts hundreds of times. I’ve watched Clove stab me with her knives and Brutus chase me through the jungle and Enobaria break my neck with one hand, more than I could possibly count.

I’ve witnessed my sister detonate, as if I’m still standing right there, in the city circle of the Capitol. I’ve witnessed it thousands of times since that day. I’ve witnessed it more often than I’ve managed to actually sleep since that day.

And it never gets easier. It never becomes routine. I’m never ever prepared for it.

Instead I’m left paralyzed as the same dreams plague me over and over and over again.

Other things do change though. I used to thrash around, kicking and screaming as the dreams tortured me for minutes on end. I used to wake up, sweat covered and coiled up in my bedding, trapped in a physical sense that only manages to make my dreams even more intense somehow.

But over time something shifted and somehow, between the bomb that killed my sister and taking down Coin and the trial I scarcely remember, the thrashing stopped and the walking began.

For months now, I’ve woken to find myself in strange rooms, in small crawl spaces I didn’t know existed, inside cupboards and beneath beds no one’s ever used in guest rooms I barely recognize.

But I’ve never found myself outside before. Never, in all the time I’ve dealt with these dreams, have I ever once ended up in my front lawn.

Never, in my wildest imagination, did I picture myself waking from my nightmare, facedown in some dirt, ripping grass from the ground as I let out a rabid scream.

“Katniss,” I hear a voice softly murmur, like speaking to an injured fawn, terrified of scaring them away. “Katniss, it’s okay.”

And my lips cry for the voice before my brain fully recognizes it. “Peeta?”

“It’s just me,” he says, and I feel his hands grasp the tops of my arms, gently pulling me upright. “It’s only me.”

I pry my swollen eyes open and take in Peeta’s kind, worried face, mere inches away from mine.

“You’re here?” I croak, still groggy and confused. “What’s going on?”

“You were having a nightmare,” he explains, thumbing away my tears as more come pouring out. “But it’s over now. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” His hand cups my cheek softly, holding the weight of my head.

I nod plaintively, my body still completely exhausted despite the fact I was just asleep. “I’m okay,” I try to say but all that comes out is a guttural raspy sound and I watch as his face softens even more.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he whispers, offering me his hand.

I take it without question, but find that I’m not upright for long. The moment I’m standing, my bare feet touching the dewy grass, Peeta bends down and scoops me up in his arms.

I don’t question it though. Maybe secretly I wanted him to do that. I definitely didn’t want to wait around to see if Haymitch came outside, asking why I was screaming at this hour of the day.

Peeta carries me into the house as if I weigh as much as Buttercup, kicking the door shut behind him and walking over to the couch. He sits down with me on his lap and drops his arms, as if to let me decide the next move. I could either crawl away from him, put some distance between us, or I could remain where I am.

To me, the choice barely takes any consideration.

I curl up closer to him, the images from the dream still too fresh to handle alone. I press my face into his neck and fold myself into him and hope he reciprocates in kind.

It doesn’t take more than a second for him to respond. As soon as I initiate it, he’s there, pulling me tighter, cradling me against him, rocking me back and forth like I’m something precious to behold.

“It’s okay,” he repeats again and again and again, as if we entered a time warp and we’re back on the train, back in the Capitol in our little apartment, sharing a bed, guarding against nightmares we stupidly thought would be the height of our troubles. “I have you, Katniss. I won’t let anything hurt you now.”

I cry into the collar of his shirt, drained and shaking and still half-crazed, feeling slightly better only when his fingers begins to smooth my hair away from my face.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Peeta whispers gently, his hand moving from my hair to my lower back, rubbing soft, soothing circles there to alleviate my trembling.

Time begins to pass. My tears dwindle to nothing. I feel the shaking come to an end. Every last ounce of energy I have left seeps from my body. My eyes grow heavy.

And pretty soon, I feel myself lifted once again, into strong, protective arms, cradling me like a baby as they carry me up the stairs and down to the end of the hall.

I’m tucked into bed gently, with the utmost care. The covers are brought up to my chin, my hair is brushed off my forehead and his fingers lightly dance upon my cheek. But it’s not enough. I still crave more.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, and my voice still isn’t mine, it’s someone else, someone who isn’t afraid to ask for what she wants. For who she wants to lay beside her in the darkness.

“Okay,” he murmurs and it sounds like a promise but as he sits down on the side of my bed and takes my hand in his, planting a soft kiss upon the back of it, I know he doesn’t understand what I’m truly asking.

“No, Peeta, that’s not what I meant,” I say, shaking my head, before pushing the covers back. “Can you get in? Can you stay with me?”

I don’t really grasp my word choice and all the underlying meanings until it’s already slipped out and too late to take back again.

But I only have a moment to be filled with regret. Because that’s how long it takes Peeta to slide in beside me.

And as I curl into him, wrapping my leg around his waist, burrowing my face in the curve of his neck, basking in the feeling of utter safety and happiness that I have never, ever found in another pair of arms, he whispers the only thing that could erase my chagrin.

“Always.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #thw #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #300 #my drabbles #my writing #drabble #everlark drabble #thg fanfic #everlark fanfiction

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