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babygorewhore · 2 months

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His Doll

Continuing this blurb of Rafe Cameron falling for a goth girl. Opposites attract, right?

This wasn’t a request but I got a really good response when I wrote my blurb so I extended it! This is self indulgent but also hot and steamy!! Warnings! Blow job and unprotected sex! @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx helped me out on this!

“Look at little Tim Burton over there,” Rafe smirks at Topper when he sees you loitering at one of the expensive stores in Tanny Hill. You were completely out of place in the Outer banks. All black clothes, thick combat boots and dark makeup.

Rafe was prepared to approach you but he found himself a little nervous. Why was he nervous? You were some weird goth chick in a state where everyone wore bright colors and sandals. Why shouldn’t he go over there and mess with you? He had heard about goth chicks being freaks. That was it. That was all it was.

Until he found himself slipping beside you ten minutes later, selecting a black t-shirt much to Topper's surprise and side glances. He made sure you looked at him as he bought it. He wasn’t one to be intimidated by girls, he was used to them. Used to getting whatever he wanted until now. But you didn’t fawn over him as he watched you wander around the boardwalk a few days later.

“She must be new.” He muttered to himself. Why else would she not pay him attention? Rafe found her instagram later that night and saw she listed her Spotify. He started listening and cringed at the volume. He wasn't able to understand the lyrics at first but as the minutes went on…it was actually a little catchy.

When he worked out, Topper and Kelce looked at him like he was an alien as he blasted the music through his headphones as he worked out. “Bro, she’s got you pussy whipped.” Kelce smacked him on the shoulder and Rafe glared.

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was a mantra Rafe repeated when he finally went up to you after a week. You were…having a picnic in the middle of an empty park on a gloomy day with a big smile on your face as you wrote something in a notebook. He wore a black shirt with dark jeans, a really poor attempt to have some sort of common ground with you.

“Hey,” He cleared his throat and you removed your headphones, looking up at him with a surprisingly polite smile.

“Hi! Can I help you?” Your voice was soft. A little sweet and his cock twitched. Mmm. A good girl underneath all that darkness.

You were looking up at him from sitting at your table and he almost moaned the vision of what his future would look like with that black lipstick smeared all over his cock.

“Seen you around. I’m having a little fun tonight with some friends.” You quirked an eyebrow and he briefly wondered if he said the wrong thing.

“You’re inviting me to a party? Rafe Cameron himself?” He was stunned you knew his name before you gave him a little teasing smirk.

“I know who you are. Your royalty on this hell island.” Then you laughed. It was a bursting sound that almost made him smile. Something about the giddy way you expressed yourself made him feel even more attracted to you.

“Yeah. I can take you to my house early. We can leave anytime. I can bring you home whenever you wanna leave. You know, sacrifice to Satan or whatever.”

“You know, not all goths are satanists.” You replied and he lowered himself a little.

“Yeah? Come on. Prove me wrong, witchy girl.”

He almost didn’t expect you to accept but then he was driving to his house while your legs were crossed in his car. You were silent but not in a rude way. You were admiring the scene.

Rafe decided to collect this in his mind. You liked watching the outside. You enjoyed simpler things. Interesting. When he arrived at the party, people were already there and enjoying themselves, watched over by topper. Barry spotted him as Rafe walked you inside his penthouse booming with music but you paused.

“Is this…deftones?” You asked him and Rafe smirked.

“Yeah. They’re great. Perfect for a party near the beach.” You gave him a laugh as Barry approached him with a handshake.

“Hey country club, the fuck you doin in that shirt? Tryna impress the lady guest?” Rafe slung an arm over your shoulder, feeling the pattern of your shirt with his fingers.

“Are you impressed?” He looked down at you and you nodded.

“I am actually. Did you hack into my Spotify or something?” Rafe paused before he saw the smile on your face and he leaned down.

“Mhm. You like that, huh? Come on. Show me what you got.”

That’s when he found himself in his bedroom, with you on your knees. Black lipstick mixed with his cum as he fucked your throat. He moans as he thrusts into your soft mouth, his hand buried in your hair locked with hairspray and your eyes leaking with tears that make your makeup run down your cheeks.

“Pretty little witchy girl.” He grunts as he continues his movements and his cum spills all over you.

Witchy girl is one of his favorite nicknames he uses for you. But another one is monster high doll or vampire Barbie. You’re his little dark angel as he watches YouTube videos while you’re asleep on his bed late at night. He has watched in awe of your removal of your makeup. But you were still so beautiful. You didn’t need it but he wouldn’t risk the wrath of Satan if he spoke it.

He watched different content on different types of goths. Now that he had you, he had to keep you while you hung out with your…interesting friends today as he sat with you, hand on your upper thigh as you happily talked about topics he never considered to be beautiful or something to notice. The night sky. Full moon. Art. Music. Even horror movies started to become apart of his life. Even though it wasn’t his favorite, his little doll loved it and who was he to not keep her happy?

But something he loved doing most was surprising you with a gift. You didn’t grow up like he did. Into privilege. You told him that you shopped usually at second hand stores and he almost fainted.

So, he looked up the best pair of platform black boots and got them for you. Gift giving was easy for him but seeing your big smile and the way you screamed made it his favorite thing to see. Then you insisted you couldn’t accept.

Rafe decided what sort of payment he would take.

He spread you open on his bed, ripping off your favorite pair of lace panties that he promised to buy more of as your dripping pussy glistened for him as he kneeled, running the tip of his dick along your slick swollen clit. “Not so scary anymore, huh?” He said as he pushed inside to the hilt, balls slapping against you.

“God…” You whined as he thrusted harder and deeper, his hands holding his weight above you while your legs were hooked around his waist.

“Not god, doll. Me.” He growled and lightly slapped your face. “Remember that. Remember who owns you.”

Rafe wouldn’t trade his little witch girl for anything.

Or the way her eyeliner runs like a fucking porn star.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @xxhellfirebunnyxx @redhead1180

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #Rafe Cameron x goth girl #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #drew starkey #Drew Starkey smut

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silassinclair · 1 year

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Like Looking into a Mirror

(PolyLostBoys x Fem!ArtistReader)

Summary: Being a vampire has it's ups and downs. But one of the biggest downs was that you couldn't see yourself. Whether it be in photographs or reflections. This means that neither of the boys have seen what they themselves look like since they were turned. So when a shy little artist introduces herself to the boys with a painting of all of them they realize they not only know what they look like but also have found their mate.

Santa Carla is a city of opportunity. A place flourishing with job opportunity and people buzzling about everywhere. But for yourself, a struggling artist, it was the opposite. Running away from home was supposed to be your fresh start, a way to get away from it all and live your life to the fullest. To paint to your heart's desire. But it was nothing like that.

There were no places for you to work and use your artistry to the fullest. The only place you found where you could work was the library. Reading itself was an art but not exactly your forte, but it was close enough and payed decently.

It was 8 at night. The sun set and the amusement park alive with people. By the beach wall you sat with a miniature canvas, paints, and brushes. Every night you'd come to the boardwalk and paint it's colorful passerby's. Unlike your old small town people here dressed unique. So many colors and style subcultures.

Scanning the crowd you hunted for your new inspiration. Person or people to replicate onto your canvas. Your direction was pulled to the sounds of purring engines. To your left under a streetlamp by the very wall you were sitting on, four men looking your age parked their bikes. Their fashion stood out amongst anyone you have ever seen on the boardwalk.

A bleached platinum blonde. His mullet stood sharp, almost as sharp as his eyes. A tall brunet with no shirt under his long coat. His long hair rested on his back. A natural blonde with wild hair and a just as wild personality. And finally the short one with long blonde curls and a face that could combat a cherub's.

Everything about them was perfect. You studied them for minutes and looked away when you felt their curious gazes turn to you. Having all their features down to memory you painted away. You painted all of them standing together standing in their own way. Straight and confident, collected and cool, laid back, goofy.

As you painted each of the men's features you smiled to yourself. This may have been one of your best works yet. When you finished the piece in an hour or two you would definitely give it to them as a gift. Usually you would give the paintings you made of people to them to see their reactions. Every time they were always very grateful and happy, seeing them smile is the reason why art is your passion.

You really hope they would appreciate it though, since they are your temporary muse of inspiration and these four seem pretty intimidating.

"Yeah man I'm telling you she kept looking at us. But when I would look at her she'd look away and start writing shit on her canvas or whatever." Paul said while nudging David. He didn't care when his friend told him that the girl to their right kept sneaking glances at them.

Girls stare at him and his vampiric brothers all the time. What can he say? He knows him and his brothers are hotter than hell so who wouldn't stare?

"What Paul, you wanna talk to her or something? Just go talk to the chick like what you always do." David said with an eyeroll and a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

Paul bashfully looked down and scratched his neck. "Dude I dunno.. she doesn't seem too interested. Probably looking at us because we dress weird?"

Now David was confused. Was his flirt machine of a brother.. shy? A sly grin curled onto the platinum blondes lips. He looked to Dwayne and Marko and those two seemed to catch on quick about Paul's little crush.

Putting his arm around his blonde brother David said, "Do you perhaps like this girl Pauly?"

Paul growled and shoved him off making Marko and Dwayne holler in laughter.

"Dude you're fucking whipped! Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Marko laughed and held his chest. Paul hit him upside the head with his palm.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Dwayne's laughing reduced to small chuckles. He looked over at the girl who Paul seemed so flustered over. She was wearing a long frilly black skirt and a sage green blouse. Her hair styled uniquely and anklets and bracelets adorned their respected limbs.

"Hm.." Dwayne hummed, "I get what you mean Paul."

Paul shot his taller brother a glare. "Yeah. Should have at least checked her out before makin' fun o' me."

Marko looked over to see what all the fuss was over. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. And she was painting too, something he adored doing.

Sensing someone looking at her Y/n looked up and four pairs of eyes were on her. The eyes of the subjects she was painting at the moment. Feeling like she had been caught doing something wrong, she looked back down at her canvas in a flash and finished up the final finishing touches.

"She was totally checking us out." Paul said smirking, well his insecurity flew out the window.

"Dude she's cute as hell man. How'd we not see her around before? And why didn't you tell us Pauly!" Marko grabbed his terror twin by the shoulders and shook him back and forth.

David snapped his fingers and the two instantly stopped with their rough housing. "We're all going to approach her. Perhaps we will have a meal tonight boys, or more."

Deadly smiles grew on the pack's faces. Time to do what they knew best. Lure and capture.

You stood up when you finally finished the painting. The four of them painted in their signature clothing. All standing together. Two of them smiling and two not. Honestly, you were scared to give this painting to them. What if they didn't like it? Or what if they thought you were some kind of weird stalker?

Walking to the group of the four bikers they all seemed to perk up at your sudden presence.

"What a surprise, we were just about to walk over to you babydoll." The curly haired one said. Your grip on the canvas tightened. Seeming to notice the tallest and only brunet of the group asked,

"What's that you got there sweetheart?"

Ignoring the soaring feeling in your stomach you avoided eye contact with the group and quietly muttered your explanation, "U-Uhm I'm an artist and stuff... It's a hobby and stuff and I paint people on the board walk all the time. And when I saw a-all you four I couldn't help but notice how uniquely dressed you all are. So I painted all of you!"

Looking up at the group finally with a crooked smile on your face you showed them your work and flipped your canvas around revealing your work.

All four of them brought their faces close to the canvas, the two wild blondes started to push and shove and what seemed like the leader of the group punched both of their arms.

"You really did this?" The platinum blonde said. He looked into your eyes, a mixed emotion behind his. His gloved finger pointed at himself painted realistically.

"That's me?"

You nodded and handed the painting to him which he gently accepted.

"Of course that's you silly. I painted the four of y-you. Hope you all like it!"

The four boys looked up at you gratefully. It was sudden but the brunette pulled you into a hug. He didn't seem like the touchy type and it surprised you with his sudden action.

"Thank you sweetheart. My brothers and I appreciate this... a lot. A lot more than you may think." He released you from his chilling yet warm embrace.

"No need to thank me.."

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne, I do this to make people like you and your brother happy. It's what I love about art ya'know?"

He smiled and introduced each of his brothers. David, Paul, and Marko.

"I am truly grateful for this kitten. Say, you wanna ride with us? You know where Hudson's Bluff is right?"

Nodding you let him continue.

"Wanna hang out with us four for the night? Promise we won't let you be bored for even a minute." His black gloved hand twirled a lock of your h/c hair around his finger.

Shyly moving away you muster up the courage to agree and go with him. He asked who you wanted to ride with and Paul seemed to be the most eager to get you to ride with him, so you gave in and got on the back of his bike.

"Hold on doll!" He revved his engine while his brother did the same. Hooting and hollering they sped down the sandy beach taking you to their cave.

"This is just the beginning!" Paul yelled over the sound of the engines. Not understanding him well you tightened your embrace around his torso and leaned in closer.

"You're gonna love us I promise!" Now that one you heard.

this was lowkey dogpiss but my head hurts so oopsie daisy

#the lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys 1987

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middleclassvampire · 7 months

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*NSFW* To Starboard (OPLA Shanks x reader)

AN: all i can say is GAW DAMN i am a depraved slut for this man. Where my depraved girlies at

Warning: just smut, piv, cussing, nothing violent (does an already missing arm count?)

***

Your crew prepared to dock as the distance between the island and your ship shrank, windmills on the terrain growing larger and larger. You're standing on the main deck, hands on your hips as you inspect your crew bustling about. They're a loyal lot, you helped most of them from worse situations, therefore they feel indebted to you. Yes, you were a pirate with a sun bleached black ship and a hefty bounty on your head, but you led a life of ease. You weren't too worried about looking over your shoulder or becoming the biggest and baddest in the East Blue, as long as you could feel the wind brushing your shoulders and the sun kissing your skin you were happy. That didn't mean you never indulged in the pleasures of this world though. You had a little more than a collection of fancy shotguns in your cabin, one would even call it an armory for the Marines; and you had a notorious romantic streak across the sea. You didn't mean to break a few hearts here and there, but you just got bored after a while and needed to run off once again. Some flings came back though, begging for more.

"Raise ALL THE SAILS you fucking rat!" Your first mate yells at the new boy. You smile and begin to intervene, but come to an abrupt stop. A ship with red masts sails by to your right. You turn your body to face the passing ship, your hand finding the rigging to steady yourself as your eyes scan it's entire deck. Finally, you lock eyes with the captain who had already been looking at you. Red-Haired Shanks. He was elated to see you and you knew it, but you didn't betray any emotion on your own face. The two of you mirror each other, slowly pacing towards the back of the deck. Your ships were no longer facing side to side by the time you reached the quarter deck. Shanks' seemed anxious that this would be it, until you turned to make sure no one was watching you on board. You turn your back to your crew to look at him once again and prop your foot up on the cannon in front of you, hiking up your skirt to reveal a leg. Your hand holds your skirt up to your mid thigh, only enough to reveal a frilly garter. Your little show was heaven sent. Shanks' eyes widen and he fervently yells something unintelligible, his crew answering back. You drop your leg down and walk back to the main deck, a smile threatening to tear your face. Your ship had been docked and you waited for someone to drop a ladder for you to get on the harbor. You glance back at the Red Hair's ship, and sure enough it was reeling so hard to the right that it was threatening to tip over. Some people on the harbor watch in confusion as the ship's hull is almost fully exposed at the dramatic turn, then carry back on to their business once the ship was set straight back to the docks.

"Whaddya think that's all about cap'n?" Your navigator asks you, her eyebrow cocked as she looks back and forth between you and Shanks' ship.

"I wouldn't know," you coyly reply, and begin your climb down to the port. You jump off the ladder and smooth down your skirt. Suddenly you became captious about your appearance: was your skin as smooth as it used to be, did you smell like a sea dog, was your corset tight enough, was your hair in place? What were you doing? You weren't the eager one in these moments, but seeing Shanks excited you. Some of your crew work to tie down the ship, others walk to the nearest pub. You stand a moment longer by your ship, droplets of sweat beginning to form at your bandana. Then, his ship is anchored down once again a couple docks away from you, and you begin your slow walk down the port. As you make it down the boardwalk, you catch a glint of red in your peripherals. Butterflies swarm within your lower belly. Shanks is half running to meet you in the middle, slowing down once he's mere feet behind you. The town is bustling with people, yet they remain unaware of the electricity sparking between the two of you. You only give Shanks a small turn of your head and smile, and continue walking a little slower, not looking back at him. He follows behind you, his hand reaches for yours. Your fingers grazing against each other in a dance of their own. You're unaware of the compass of your own body (pussy) as you guide Shanks to a small inn. You continue in a dream like state as you enter the parlor, get a room key, and lead him upstairs. As the two of you stand in the poorly lit narrow hall, Shanks pulls you back down to earth the moment he pushes his hips into your ass. You turn the key quicker at the feel of his hardening cock.

"It's been too long darling," He whispers onto the skin of your neck, "I've missed you so much." He keeps whispering sweet nothings until the door clicks opens and you're both inside. Shanks shoves you back into the door, not giving you a moment to react after closing it. Your back is pressed onto the wood but you don't care. Shanks' lips find yours and you're both kissing in an urgency you didn't realize you were holding back. He nips your lower lip softly, asking your permission, and you let him slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan into the kiss, causing Shanks' to buck his hips into yours. His hand rakes down from your clavicle to your breast and further to your waist. Hand? You break away from the kiss with a small push to his chest and yelp at his missing arm, hitting your head on the door behind you.

"Fucking hell Shanks, how'd this happen??" You push his cape off fully to reveal the empty sleeve and look up at him, gaping. Shanks only sighs, whispering something under his breath and uses his only hand to reach for yours. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, you look down at it and back up, giving him a quizzical look. He leads you to the small bed and sits you down. He tells you what had happened only days ago on this same island. You find yourself snapping your hands up to wipe the unwanted tears pricking through your lashes. Shanks clicks his tongue.

"It's just an arm love, don't sully your pretty face over it," Shanks gently pries a hand from your face and kisses your tears away, whispering a "please" between the kisses. His mouth finds yours once again and you relax into him. Heat rises between your bodies and you're pulling his face into yours. He quickly releases you to remove his straw hat, tossing it to a side table before he returns to your lips. Things grow sloppier, Shanks let's go of your lips to latch onto your neck, leaving blooms where his teeth sinks into and pulling out a faint cry from you as he sucks on your most sensitive spot. In your daze you hear Shanks unbuckling his belt and tossing it across the room. His hand becomes frantic as they begin to tug at your corset or his own shirt, so you stop him. Shanks eyes glint with confusion, but you only smile at him as you reach for him. You gently pull his shirt out of his waistband and over his body, he complies and crooks his neck forward to let you pull his shirt off over his head. You then get up from the bed and kneel in front of him. His eyes say something different now, you cannot quite tell what though. Something had possessed you in that moment. Here you were gently prying Shanks' shoes off, pulling his trousers down and over his ankles. Once you finish undressing him he reaches for you again, but you push his hand away and stand before him. Slowly yet not so much, you unlace your corset and drop it to the floor. You unclasp your leather belt with its pistols hanging on the sides, and push your skirt down as well. Shanks' already hardened cock twitches at every article of cloth being removed. You finally remove the flimsy chemise and bloomers, a pirate didn't need ten other extra undergarments. You reach for the garter on your thigh but Shanks raises his hand.

"Keep that on" he says, his voice now gruff with pent up desire. He reaches for it and pulls you in between his legs, your hands find their place on his shoulders. His hot breath hits your stomach, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He looks up at you with blown out pupils, you both remain still for a moment. The spell breaks and he pulls you down into his lap in the middle of the bed. You whimper at the sudden sensation of his cock against your clit, and you grind down onto him to feel it again. His eyes threaten to roll back and he grabs your face down to kiss him once more, his hand then traveling down to your breast where he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Fuck Shanks-" you begin but get cut off by his mouth latching onto your other nipple. His tongue swirls and sucks onto you and you let out a small cry. Your hips push down towards his cock again, but he doesn't let you sink down on him so this time you use a hand to play with his tip. He becomes merciless with his mouth as you tease him, and finally releases both of your breasts to stop your hand and hold your hips still.

"Shanks please- fuck- please I want you so bad- I need you.." you spill out as you fail to make contact with his skin again. He only smiles and softens his grip.

"So have me" he says. You blank for a moment, then use one hand to line his dick with your entrance and slowly go down on him. He's too big. You let out something between a moan and gasp as you slowly push him back out and in again. Shanks is struggling to hold himself together too, letting out shaky moans of your name. After a few slow attempts, you seat yourself fully onto his cock. The stretch makes your head buzz and you rock back and forth, stirring obscenities out of the both of you.

"Fuck-ck you're so tight...hhh you're so..fuck..wet- listen to how fucking wet you are for me" Shanks half mutters half groans as you ride him with a quicker pace. You have one hand on his shoulder and another on his thigh to stop yourself from toppling over. His own hand is holding you by the hip, attempting to guide you to bounce harder onto him. He grows impatient and suddenly between strokes, Shanks fucks up into you and causes you to wail. His eyes turn into obsidian and he grabs your waist, pulling you into his body as he lies down with his cock still inside you. Your cheek is pressed into his chest and before you protest, Shanks snaps his hips upwards into you causing you to muffle a scream with your fist. He continues to fuck you for what felt like eternity. Driving his cock so far into you at this angle you begin to see stars. His one arm keeps you mercilessly pinned to his body.

"Shanks I'm gon- I'm gonna cum- FUCK" you hardly finish talking before that familiar feeling shoots up through your nerves and into your brain. Your thighs quiver aggressively around him and Shanks let's out a hoarse groan as his own orgasm erupts out of him. You feel your cunt heating up, filling with his cum as his strokes slow down. His arm loosens around you, finding your hair and brushing it as he cooes you through your orgasm. You try to slide off of him, but he keeps you there.

"I'm not letting you get away from me this time," Shanks murmurs into your hair, pressing kisses where he spoke. He knew you didn't like sticking around. He knew you were afraid of getting attached only to possibly get hurt, he knew the last time you had seen him you were dangerously close to leaving everything for him, causing you to live a flighty life. You roll off of him and sit up, failing to give him your strict glare once you look back at him. His eyes are begging for you to stay, pleading with love he'd been desperate to show you. His hand reaches for yours once more, grasping it with a firmness that feared you'd fly away again.

"I know you feel the same, i know you use others to forget about me-"

"Shanks you lost your fucking arm in a blink of an eye what if it's your lift next-"

"So why won't you take that risk?" He asks, he's sitting up now too, desperation filling his voice, "because I sure as bloody hell would do it for you. I love you!" You stare at him in awe, your eyebrows overwork themselves as your mind tosses around in its anxieties.

"I love you too..." you answer mindlessly. You betrayed your own code. Fuck it if it meant not hurting Shanks anymore. The two of you sit there, eyes boring their deepest desires into each other as the setting sun greets you through the stained window.

#one piece #shanks smut #shanks x reader #opla x reader #opla shanks #opla smut #red haired shanks #one piece live action

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luv4fandoms · 3 months

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Knight in shining armor (Marko x Fem!Reader)

I found the first part of this in my notes and decided to finally finish it lol.

Pairing: Marko x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2,776

Warnings: PURE SMUT!!! MINORS DNI

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"Hurry up already" Marko huffed, arms outstretched along the back of the couch as he stared down at you, his legs spread with you in between them, hands gliding up his jean and leather covered thighs while you pressed kisses to his clothed bulge.

"Now why would I do that? You love to tease me" you told him as you grabbed him through his pants, earning a hiss from the blonde.

"Keep it up and you won't be able to walk by the end of the night" he warned, which only brought a smirk to your lips.

"Is that a threat of a promise?" You asked, keeping eye contact as you licked over the bulge, earning a deep growl from him.

"Babe" he dragged out through clenched teeth.

"You're no fun" you giggled, reaching up to unbutton and unzip his pants, his eyes never leaving you while you gently pulled down his pants enough to release him. Marko rarely wore underwear, and sometimes you wondered if they all decided to forgo the article of clothing, or if he just hated them, either way, it always made this sort of thing easier.

Giving him an experimental stroke you heard him hiss again, eyes closing as you ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that beaded out. Leaning forward to lick over the slit while you ran your hand down to his base he groaned at the contact, pleasure beginning to wash over his tense form. This was what you were hoping for, to get him to finally relax after last night.

It started out as a typical night at the boardwalk, the boys had gone off to hunt and you had decided to simply walk around until they returned, something you had done plenty of times. Each time Marko would tell you to be safe, and if you needed anything to run towards the beach and he would come find you. You had been minding your own business, eating an ice cream as you walked around and enjoyed the music and current festival that was happening, but of course, that came to an end when the surf Nazis showed up. You were used to them by now, having encountered them plenty of times with the boys, but they seemed to have sought you out like sharks with blood when they saw that you were alone.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” You heard the one speak, and you didn't even have to turn from the vendor stall to see the smirk on his lips, his tone making your skin crawl.

“Piss off” you stated, going back to looking at the patches, trying to find ones that Marko would like.

“Well that's not very nice, your little boyfriends didn't teach you any manners?” Another one asked, you simply rolled your eyes and paid for the few patches you found, shoving them in your bag before beginning to walk away, you hadn't gotten three steps when a hand grabbed your arm.

“Now come on, we just wanna talk” you finally turned towards the, what you now realized, were three men, and gave them your best death glare before snatching your arm out of his grip.

“Well I don't, so piss.off” you replied, turning and walking away. You thought maybe they had gotten the hint since they didn't grab you again…but of course, you were wrong, you could hear the insults they were throwing even from as far back as they were, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you realized they were pushing past people to get to you. Quickening your speed you began to weave in and out of the crowd hoping that you wouldn't have to take off towards the beach and interrupt Marko's hunt…Though they would just make meals out of the three clowns chasing you. You turned a corner and quickly ran into something rather immobile, or rather, someone. Looking up from where you now sat on the ground you realized it was a man, around your age, medium length black hair and the most friendly eyes, from the look of his clothes he wasn't from Santa Carla, just another tourist who you had sadly been brought into your mess as you heard the voices grow louder.

“Are you ok? Didn't mean to run into you” he smiled, offering you his hand that you gladly took.

“Yeah, sorry I was-” you were cut off as the three you had been running from rounded the corner, coming to a halt upon seeing you.

“There you are you little bitch” the one sneered.

“Friends?” The guy asked as he pulled you closer.

“Ha, they wish”

“You don't need to be involved, just hand over the little whore and we'll be good” the second one stated, but the guy gently pushed you behind him.

“I think I'll pass on doing that, sorry” he told them, which only angered them more.

“You wanna fuckin die dude? Just run along and let us have her, we ain't got any beef with you” the third one snapped. The guy looked back at you, your eyes meeting for a moment before he turned back to them.

“Or you all could fuck off” he shrugged, and that seemed to be the final straw as the guys jumped at him, he quickly pushed you aside, causing you to slightly catch yourself on the wall, the brick scraping your arm and causing a small amount of blood to bead up. You watched with wide eyes as the man easily beat up all three guys with moves you had only seen in martial art movies, it honestly made you stare in awe at the man, who was now staring down at three groaning surf Nazis.

“Are you ok?” He asked, meeting your eyes before seeing the small amount of blood on your arm.

“Shit I'm sorry” he apologized, quickly grabbing a tissue out of his pocket and going to press it to your wound, when a hand grabbed his wrist…A gloved hand you knew all too well.

“Touch her and die” Marko all but growled as he stared the man down, you knew even though the man was taller than him, Marko was far more deadly.

“I'm sorry?” The man questioned.

“Marko baby, it's ok, he helped me” you tried to reassure your boyfriend, who immediately looked down at your arm.

“Yeah, looks like it”

“It was an accident, he pushed me out of the way” Marko's eyes left the man and looked down at the three groaning men.

“Why didn't you come get me?”

“I didn't want to be a burden” the look he gave you after that sentence was both of annoyance, and hurt.

“It's ok though, I'm fine” you tried to reassure him, putting your hand on his which still held the man's wrist, you felt his grip slowly loosen enough for the man's wrist to fall.

“Thanks to your knight in shining armor” he muttered, but you caught it, caught the tone, the hurt that lingered on his words.

He has been in that mood since then, but you'd be damned if you let him stay in it for another night. He was your boyfriend, your mate, the only one you wanted…And you were going to make that known. So you had coerced him onto the couch with kisses, and were determined to right a wrong in his mind.

“Fuck” he sighed, one hand reaching down to thread through your hair, the other now gripping the back of the couch. Your hands pulled his pants lower, allowing him to spread his legs wider as you took more of him in, a low, almost purr sounding in the back of his throat as his hips lifted slightly.

“all of it” he groaned, and you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes meeting his, noticing his pupils were already blown wide.

“Take all of it” he panted, other hand reaching down to grip your hair, guiding your head down further, you had only done this a handful of times, but you knew how much he liked it, so with a deep breath you relaxed your throat, allowing him deeper.

“That's it” he sighed, head falling forward to watch you.

“Good girl” he groaned, letting you just sit there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your hot throat flexing around him before he slowly pulled you back up, allowing you to take a breath before he guided you back down. After the fifth time you gently grabbed his hands and put them on the couch, letting him fall out of your mouth before grabbing him and stroking.

“thought this was supposed to be about me” he tried to joke but it ended in a hiss and you leaned down and sucked for a moment.

“It is” you replied once you let him go, mouth leaving him but hand never stopping.

“But I have to breathe,” you joked. Watching has his eyes slowly opened, looking down at you with an unreadable gaze for a moment before he spoke.

“Bet you'd choke for your knight in shining armor” he muttered, and there it was, what was still putting him in a bad mood-when you had been in danger, he wasn't the one who saved you. You rolled your eyes and lowered your head, his own falling back on the couch as he figured you were going to take him back into your mouth, what he wasn't expecting was feeling your teeth sinking into his thigh. A started shout/groan fell from his lips as his hand shot back into your hand, unsure if he wanted to pull you off or beg you to do it again.

“Cazzo! (Fuck!)” He quickly looked down, eyes meeting yours as you licked over the wound, watching as his cock twitched near your cheek.

“Wanna say something stupid like that again?” you asked, kissing up the side of his cock before taking him in again, bobbing your head as you listened to him try to form words, you had never bit him before, but from the looks of it, you'd have to start.

“I s-said” he groaned, hating that he stuttered, but fuck! You had never done something like that before, and now you were going at him, your head bobbing quickly, you hands rubbing what you weren't taking in…Fuck why was he upset again?

“Divieto di sosta (do not stop)” he groaned, body leaning forward, both of his hands resting on your head now, not trying to move you but trying to anchor himself. You grabbed the top of his jeans which rested at his knees and pulled them down to his ankles, before letting him fall out of your mouth and kissing along his thighs, he groaned at the loss but waited to see what you would do. You started at his knee, slowly kissing upwards as you spoke.

“if you ever, for a moment” you started, only stopping to bite into his flesh again, earning another groan, his hand tightening in your hair while you moved over to his other leg, kissing upwards.

“think that I would want someone else” you bit down again.

“Cazzo! Dio sì (Fuck! God yes)”

“Then you” you bit near his hip bone, watching as his hips shot up, chasing the feeling.

“Are very much” you bit near his other hip bone, listening as his groans became murmurs of Italian.

“An idiot” you ended, leaving the last bite on his stomach, a place you knew was sensitive, and a place where everyone would be able to see it, and maybe that was what set him off, the thought of you marking him, or maybe he had just had it, but quickly you were eye level with him-his hand gripping the back of your head, fist tangled in your hair.

“cazzo ingoiami, o ti spezzerò (fucking swallow me, or I will break you)” he growled, eyes gaining a bit of a goldish hue as he looked at you, his body lightly shaking as he gripped the couch with his other hand.

“promessa o minaccia?(promise or threat?)” You asked, watching as his eyes widened for a moment, you had never spoken Italian before, never had told him you were even learning it since you wanted to surprise him, you quickly leaned in a stole a kiss while he was in his shocked state before falling back to your knees, you mouth swallowing him down before he could say anything else, though what did tumble out of his mouth was nothing but sighed and groaned Italian as he leaned back again and let you work, you could tell he was starting to get close though when his hips began to buck upwards more often, and his hand tightened in your hair again.

“Più veloce (faster)” he panted, eyes opening to look down at you, you doubled your efforts, tongue running along the underside before you flicked it over the slit which now steadily leaked precum.

“proprio così (just like that)” he groaned, struggling to keep his eyes on you as you worked, he watched your hand leave him, instead reaching down and cupping his balls, he groaned at the feeling, his end coming closer at your touch.

“brava ragazza-cazzo, così buono (good girl-fuck, so good)” he moaned, his body beginning to lean forward, wanting to get closer to your touch.

“Divieto di sosta (do not stop)”he panted again, feeling himself rushing towards his peak, all he would need would be a little more, a little more of your hot mouth swallowing him down, your hands cupping him, stroking him. The sounds of you slurping the mixture of his cum and your own saliva that ran down his length as you worked, it was all music to his ears and he could feel himself starting to tense, his boots digging into the stone floor of the cave…When your nails scratched down his legs, digging into them he lost it.

“CAZZO!” He all but screamed, eyes rolling back as both of his fists locked into your hair, holding your head down as he came. Luckily you had done this before and knew what to expect, Marko always liked to make sure you got every last drop, but from how he was slightly shaking and the look on his face, eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan, you think this may be because of a new reason.

His hips lifted off of the couch in shallow thrusts, soft gunts and whispered “cazzo”s fell from his lips as his body slowly came down from its high. You felt his grip loosen before his hands left your hair, falling beside him on the couch. You quickly pulled off of him, swallowing what you could and wiping off the rest before you gently straddled his lap, being careful of him in case he was a bit sensitive, though knowing Marko he would probably enjoy it. You gently kissed his neck, cheeks, before landing on his lips, smiling when you felt him kiss back, hands coming up to lightly hold your waist. When you broke apart your eyes once again met hazel, and you smiled at your boyfriend.

“ti amo (I love you)” you whispered, watching as the smile spread across his own lips.

“Anch'io ti amo. per l'eternità (I love you too. For eternity)” he whispered, hand coming up to cup your cheek and pull you back in for another kiss, a kiss that turned into a slow make out session. When the two of you finally broke apart you cupped his cheeks in your hands and looked at him.

“Now, no more foolishness ok? You're my knight in shining armor, no one else, got it” you told him, watching as he looked away for a moment before looking back at you and nodding.

“Fine, but the next guy that tries to play that role…I'm killing” he told you, shutting you up with a kiss before you could protest.

“Now, in the meantime” he started, grabbing your thighs and standing up, causing you to let out a shout and wrap your legs around his waist. He quickly toed off his boots and kicked off his pants before he headed towards your shared nest.

“You started something you need to finish” he explained, and when you gave him a confused look he simply smirked.

“You marked me, it's only fair I return the favor, and besides, I need to show you how I truly speak my mother tongue,” he replied, tossing you onto the mattress…you were in for a long night.

There it is! I hope everyone enjoys it lol.

Also the guy who helps her I pictured looking like

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #marko tlb #marko the lost boys #marko x fem reader #marko x Reader #marko x reader #marko smut #marko tlb smut

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Text

Faking It | Part VII

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: So happy to be able to post this after yesterday's fiasco! I know I said this would be the last chapter but apparently I can't stop haha WHOOPS! This story seemed way shorter in my head lol So, yeah, there will be another chapter after this one.

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, angst, fluff, suggestive language and themes, annoying af ex-boyfriend, TALL & PROTECTIVE Rooster (swoon) - look at me saving the best for last XD

Start from the beginning: Part I

“Let’s go,” Bradley says in a low voice, his face still far too close to yours for you to see much more than the mustache above his lip.

“Right now?” you ask, slightly bewildered by the urgency in his tone.

“Right now,” he breathes, starting to usher you toward the doors.

“Okay,” you say, trying to conceal your disappointment. “Let’s get our stuff,” you add, reluctantly detaching yourself from Bradley’s embrace to head back to the table. But as you are making you way through the flurry of dancing guests, Bradley’s hand finds yours in the darkness while he trails in your wake.

“Are you leaving, Y/N?” your mother asks as you collect your purse from the chair.

You look up at her guiltily. “Uh, yeah,” you say. “We’re kind of tired.”

Your mother eyes you suspiciously, then her gaze shifts to Bradley who is gathering his jacket. “Have a good night,” she says.

You nod quickly and turn to leave. Then, you hear Bradley speak, “Congratulations, ma’am. On your daughter’s marriage.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” your mother responds. “I suppose I should also thank you for not throwing Steven into the lake.”

Bradley chuckles. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You turn around to see a faint smile pass over your mother’s lips. “Yes, well, I’m starting to understand why you might want to,” she says.

Bradley’s grin widens. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”

Bradley glances back at you and offers his arm. You hook your hand through it as the two of you make your way toward the exit. Bradley opens the door for you to step outside. The wind picks up your hair and your skirt but, before you can start to shiver, you feel Bradley’s jacket drop over your shoulders as he walks past. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers on the collar.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he skips down the steps toward the walkway.

He holds his hand out to help you descend and you take it hesitantly, letting go of him the moment you’re on the sidewalk. Bradley seems equally uneasy, walking a few steps away from you, his hands in his pockets.

The two of you stroll quietly up the path toward the beach. By the time you reach the boardwalk, the silence becomes noticeably uncomfortable, and you decide to address the issue head-on. “That was weird, right?” you say.

Bradley glances over at you, his eyes raking over your figure before meeting your gaze. “Was it?” he asks.

You bite forcefully into your bottom lip, your pace slowing considerably at his words. “Don’t you think it was weird?” you ask.

Bradley’s expression is inscrutable as he shrugs, looking over your shoulder at something in the distance. “It was alright,” he says, turning away to continue walking.

You pull at the collar of his jacket to wrap it tighter around your body, not overly pleased with his casual attitude concerning an incident that still has your head spinning and your stomach contents churning. It would be better if he’d found the situation awkward because then, at least, you’d know that your friendship is something he means to preserve once this is all over. The fact that he’s so nonchalant about the matter bothers you. “Are you mad at me still?” you ask, wondering if some lingering animosity might explain his indifference.

Bradley looks down at his feet and then over at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

You chuckle wryly. “Okay.”

Bradley stops walking so you come to a halt as well. “Are you mad at me?”

You shrug, not entirely sure how you feel.

Bradley purses his lips, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He watches you for a few moments before speaking. “For the record, I wasn’t interrogating your sister,” he says. “She offered that information.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the wooden planks of the boardwalk, the distance between you and him like a barrier neither of you is willing to cross. The tension in your midst isn’t the sexy kind. It’s cold and quiet, as if you are each too stubborn to engage in polite conversation. “Yeah,” you respond glumly.

Bradley is watching you carefully, probably trying to decipher the one-word response you just gave. He looks like he might want to add to the discussion but, after another several seconds of silence, he seems to change his mind. He turns and starts to walk again. “Come on,” he says, going ahead. “Before you freeze.”

“You kind of bailed on me,” you say quietly, trailing behind him.

Bradley slows his pace, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“You started grilling me about my whereabouts this morning” –

“I was grilling you?” Bradley rounds on you.

“It was the worst possible time to have that conversation.”

Bradley scoffs. “So, according to you, I’m just going around interrogating everyone.”

You glare at him as he shakes his head. “And then you just walked away all pissed off like I was the one who offended you,” you continue despite the obvious resentment on his face.

“You did offend me!” he yells.

“You could’ve just told me that you didn’t ask her.”

Bradley watches you steadily. “I shouldn’t have had to. Do you really think that I would?”

Your teeth graze your lip as you lower your head so you wouldn’t have to contend with the intensity of his gaze. “I get that I ticked you off, but, well” – you sigh – “never mind.”

“What?” he asks, stepping into your path when you start to walk again.

“I said, ‘never mind’,” you respond impatiently, trying to walk around him.

He holds his hand out to stop you. “Tell me,” he says, his fingers closing around your arm.

You bite into the inside of your cheek. “I was counting on you,” you mutter, not looking at his face. “I mean, you came back, which I appreciate,” you add. “But, that entire first half of the evening kind of sucked,” you say, staring at the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. His neck is smooth and strangely attractive, and you start to wonder bitterly if there is any part of Bradley Bradshaw that you might consider simply mediocre.

His hand slips down the sleeve of his jacket over your arm, stopping to close around the tips of your fingers. “Your hand is freezing,” he says.

“Well, it’s fucking cold,” you retort.

Bradley snorts, but you’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your other hand so that he could cup both your hands in his. You stare at his long fingers wrapped around your fists, detesting that every single thing he does makes you fall deeper and harder. But soon, the heat from his hands is soothing your tense muscles enough that you even take a slim step forward out of sheer necessity for warmth. Bradley’s hands tighten around yours, his eyes looking you up and down a couple of times.

After another few seconds of silence, he motions with a nod that the two of you should continue your trek to the chalet. Mutely, you bob your head in agreement. Bradley steps to the side, allowing you to move ahead while he places a hand on your back. His touch is so subtle, you can hardly feel it through the wool-blend of his suit jacket.

The rest of your walk is fairly uneventful. Neither of you says much, and Bradley keeps his distance, except when he reaches over to grab your arm, preventing you from stepping on a broken plank.

When you arrive at your door and Bradley slides his key into the lock, he pauses briefly, turning his head slightly without looking at you directly. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he says.

You watch him hesitate with the lock for a moment and you finally shrug in response. “I may have overreacted.”

He raises his eyebrows and glances at you with a smirk. “No,” he says.

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, giving him a playful punch with a loosely formed fist. “I’ve had a stressful weekend, okay?”

He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Have you?”

You meet his gaze as he holds the door open for you. “It’s been dreadful,” you say with a hint of irony because Bradley will assume you’re joking but, really, pretending not to have feelings for your friend has been thoroughly dreadful indeed.

You bend down to take your shoes off as Bradley shuts the door. “Need some help with those?” he asks with a small grin as you go to remove them.

You chuckle lightly, reaching out to grasp his forearm for stability as you unclasp the straps. You step out of your heels and look up at his face. “You’re so absurdly tall,” you say.

Bradley laughs, the forearm you’re still holding flexing as his fingers graze your elbow. “Is that a deal breaker?” he asks.

Your breath nearly trips on the exhale as his eyes sweep over your face. He takes a step forward, his body now close enough that you can feel his pant leg brush against your knee. You let out a nervous laugh, unsure how else to respond to a question that sounds an awful lot like flirting. “Come to think of it, talking to you is kind of giving me a neck cramp,” you respond lightly as you shrug off his jacket.

He grins at you as you sidestep him to get to the clothes tree. “Let’s not talk, then?” he suggests.

You chuckle as you hang up his jacket, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Let’s not,” you say.

“Good,” he says, slipping off his dress shoes after loosening the laces. “Tired of all your yammering.”

You snort trying to hold in a laugh. “Can’t stand the sound of your voice,” you add.

“Ugh,” Bradley groans. “So annoying.”

You purse your lips as your smile widens and Bradley chuckles, eyeing you mischievously.

“C’mere, you big dork,” he says, holding his arm out.

You lower your gaze, still grinning as you tuck your head into his shoulder. Bradley wraps his arm around you, giving you a couple of affectionate squeezes. “Am I actually annoying?” you ask, fully aware that Bradley was only teasing. Perhaps you’re just fishing for a compliment.

“Oh, very,” Bradley responds as the two of you make your way into the center of the room. “What is the superlative of annoying?”

“Most annoying?”

“Yep, that’s you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Bet you can’t wait to be rid of me after this weekend,” you say, half-jokingly.

“About that,” Bradley says, lifting his arm off your shoulder. You detach yourself from him and look up questioningly. “Your aunt sort of invited me to Thanksgiving.”

You stare at him in shock. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘why not?’” Bradley shrugs. You blink at him mutely, so he adds, “That’s okay, right? I mean, I figured you’ll need to keep up appearances.”

“What if I have a real boyfriend by Thanksgiving?” you blurt out without thinking.

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well, then problem solved, right?” he says.

You meet his gaze, but you can’t seem to read him. “Right,” you agree awkwardly.

He nods and, after finally looking away, he starts for the bathroom. Once he’s gone, you close your eyes and plop onto the bed with a whimper, rolling over onto your stomach to bury your face into the pillow. You want to scream because Bradley Bradshaw is so perfect, it hurts. How, how have you never noticed the sexy grit of his voice, or the seductive quirk of his mouth, or his fucking height? You imagine being cradled in his arms, soothed by the warmth of his chest, tucked away from the big, bad world.

You rest your cheek over the cotton pillowcase musingly, slipping your hand under your head. After your kiss this evening, you were hoping – like an idiot – that Bradley might want an actual relationship with you. Instead, he’s agreed to yet another family event as your pretend boyfriend, which is probably the best outcome you could hope for. Oddly enough, however, you’re not thrilled at the prospect. Perhaps you’ve had enough of faking not being attracted to Bradley Bradshaw.

“Are you going to sleep in your dress?”

You turn your head to see Bradley leaning into the frame of the bathroom door, his dress shirt undone. He’s got a comb in his hand which he runs through his hair as he watches you with a couple of raised eyebrows. “Just waiting for the bathroom,” you respond.

Bradley steps out and gestures for you to go ahead, so you lift yourself off the bed, dragging your pjs out from under your pillow. You feel his eyes follow you into the bathroom, but you refrain from turning back to look at him.

You stuff your pjs into a dry corner of the vanity, noticing Bradley’s toiletry kit sitting open by the sink. You peer inside it curiously, not sure why you find his toothbrush, razor, and aftershave particularly interesting. You turn on the tap with a sigh. Apparently, you find everything about Bradley Bradshaw interesting, right down to his favorite brand of floss.

After you’ve finished washing your face and removing about a hundred bobby pins from your hair, you change into your pajamas and glance at yourself in the mirror with a nervous expression. Interacting with Bradley is becoming more of a chore by the minute, and you are so ready for this weekend to be over. You run your hand through the soft waves in your hair that are the result of a daylong updo and then reach for the doorknob.

You walk out to find that Bradley is already in bed, or rather, lying on top of the quilt. You hang up your dress and turn toward him. Bradley lifts his head off the pillow, watching you walk over.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Bradley smiles at you. “Your hair looks awesome.”

You chuckle. “It’s such a mess.”

“It looks good, Y/N,” he says, propping himself up onto his elbow. You try to avoid fixating on the width of his bare shoulders, not to mention the rise and fall of his slightly sunburnt chest. You look at his face instead because, for some reason, you think this might be a safer alternative. You’re wrong.

Bradley’s mouth is curled up in a small smile as he watches you pat at the curls in your hair and this subtle manifestation of his affection for you sends your heart racing more than the sight of his shirtless body ever could. “I’ll get the light,” you say, changing the subject.

On your way to the light switch, you flip your hair a couple of times, wondering if Bradley is watching your back as you walk away. Naturally, you don’t dare check. You flick the switch near the door, taking advantage of the darkness to lean your head into the wall and gather the strength to spend another night sharing a bed with Bradley Bradshaw, who is so sexy you could die. Who kisses like a fucking dream. Who –

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, turning around to face the inky darkness of the pitch-black room. “Uh,” you respond hesitantly, wavering on the spot. “How the fuck did you do this?”

You hear some movement at the far end of the room.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” you say as the bed creaks.

Bradley chuckles in response and you hear his footsteps as he walks around the bed and across the room. “Here,” he says, sounding much closer than you’d have expected him to be in such short a time. “Take my hand.”

You reach out tentatively, waving your arm around until his fingers close around your wrist.

“Can you not see anything?” he asks with amusement, pulling you closer so that he can guide you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you say as his palm lands casually on your hip, steering you toward the bed. You lift your hand to feel around in front of you, but, of fucking course, your hand finds Bradley’s bare abdomen instead of the dresser you’re trying to locate. His muscles contract under your touch and you withdraw your hand immediately in a wild panic.

“This way,” Bradley mutters, taking a small step toward you as he directs you away from whatever obstacle you’ve nearly walked into.

“Okay,” you respond breathlessly as his body presses into yours, his glorious abs once again finding the tips of your fingers. You give yourself an extra second to lightly trace the ripples of his impressive six-pack before letting your hand fall.

But Bradley catches it just as your fingers slip away, his breathing quickening as his face hovers over yours in the darkness. Slowly and ever so lightly, his hand glides up your arm. Meanwhile, you feel the eruption of every nerve ending along its route as though his touch is setting off a series of fireworks. “You okay?” he asks so quietly that his voice is more rasp than tone.

“Mm-hm,” you affirm, your mind whirring as you attempt to rationalize Bradley’s hand that’s now caressing your shoulder. Your fingers are still lingering on his stomach when he takes another step forward.

“Cold?” he asks, his breath on your cheek.

“Mm-hm,” you repeat, completely lost for words as his pelvis brushes against you. The way Bradley is handling your body is excessive if his only intention is to help you fumble your way to the bed in the darkness. The way he’s stepping closer and closer despite clearly being more than close enough to guide you is indicative of an ulterior motive.

“Tired of talking yet?” he mutters, the tip of his nose sweeping across your cheek.

You let out a weak chuckle, your body on fire from the way he’s holding you. From the way he’s speaking. From the way his thumb coasts over your collarbone as his hand drifts up the back of your neck. His body sinks slightly as he ducks his head to catch your lips in a kiss.

You feel the collapse of tension between the two of you like it was a physical wall, replaced all at once by an acute, chaotic desire. Bradley moves further into your space as you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck. His body crashes into yours with enough force to drive you backward.

You stumble haphazardly over the scattered shoes that you don’t remember leaving all over the floor. Bradley is kicking bags and purses out of the way, his grip tightening around your waist as the two of you accelerate toward the bed.

Everything about Bradley’s demeanor feels urgent, as though, now that he’s started, he can’t stop. And, somehow, this complete disintegration of his restraint is intoxicating. His hands are all over your body; your hair, your hips, your back. His lips are smooth, but the kiss is rough in the best way possible.

You crash into the bed and Bradley’s tongue curls into your mouth as you gasp. You feel his hands close around your thighs, lifting you off the ground. When you’re in his arms, you bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you kiss him. He runs his tongue along your lips, giving you several softer kisses, his thumbs stroking the tender skin under the hem of your pajama shorts as his grip on your legs tightens.

You wind your legs around his hips, subtly driving your pelvis forward. In response, Bradley releases a fevered breath, his mouth travelling down to your neck, infusing fiery kisses into your jaw along the way. When you let out a soft moan, he lowers you onto the bed, sighing heavily as he climbs over top of you. His lips skim the fraction of your exposed skin just above the band of your shorts, his mouth moving slowly over top of your shirt up your stomach and along your ribs. He kisses your neck, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally, he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

Then, he collapses into the bed beside you, and you’re left panting into the darkness, your brain scrambling to interpret what the fuck just happened. But neither of you seems to be able to speak. You turn your head in his direction, wondering what’s on his mind. Of course, you can’t just ask him. That would be absurd.

“Um,” you say quietly. “Thanks for your help?”

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Anytime.”

You reach up to the side of your neck where Bradley left a particularly searing kiss, your fingers grazing over the tender patch of skin as your breathing slows. So, Bradley Bradshaw liked your fake kiss. Why else would he initiate a real one?

After what seems like a solid minute of silence, you lift yourself up to move over to your pillow and you hear Bradley shuffling to do the same. You lift the blanket and slip underneath it, shivering against the cool sheet. You close your eyes, thinking of something else to say. Obviously, you can’t just go to sleep after that.

Apparently, Bradley Bradshaw is of the same opinion. You feel his hand slide over your stomach and your eyes fly open. You turn your body in his direction as he shifts closer, his fingers curling gently around the dip in your waist.

“You still okay?” he asks.

“Mm-hm,” you nod, chewing on your lip as you slide a touch closer to him.

Bradley’s hand glides along the curve from your waist to your hip and back again. “Still cold?” he says quietly, his lips moving over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingertips drifting over his abdomen.

“Y/N,” he whispers as his hand sinks deeper into your waist, pulling you closer.

“Bradley,” you gasp breathlessly, placing your palm over his chest.

He seems to sense your hesitation because he says, “I think we might need that pillow wall tonight, YN.” He sighs forcefully, his hold on you tightening briefly before he releases his grip and rolls onto his back with a groan. You assume that he’s running his hands over his face because of the muffled sounds he’s making.

You’re buzzing from the desperation in his tone, as if knowing that he’s frustrated and wanting you is enough to get you through the night. Surely, he didn’t think sleeping with you would be that easy. Besides, there’s no way anything is happening while the two of you continue this charade of dancing around the truth. “I could go sleep on the couch,” you offer lightheartedly.

In response to this jest, Bradley wraps his arm around you, his enormous bicep completely enclosing your face as he pulls you into his chest. You place your arm over his side, your fingers drawing swirls into his back as you lean into his neck. You feel his hand on the back of your head, playing gently with your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of it.

…

You wake to the sound of knocking on your door. You turn to find that Bradley isn’t in bed, so you assume he’s gone out to get breakfast and is now trying to get back inside with his hands full. You slip out of the bed and head for the door, noting the path of destruction last night’s make out session has left in its wake. There are shoes everywhere.

You chuckle lightly and pull open the door. When you see Steven on the other side, you blink at him in confusion, your mouth slightly agape.

“Y/N,” he says, putting his hand over the door before you can close it in his face. He steps inside.

“N-no,” you manage to say. “You need to leave.”

Steven glances at the mess in your room with furrowed eyebrows just as you realize that the shower is on in the bathroom. You groan at your oversight. “I just want to talk,” Steven says, watching you desperately. “Please.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” You gulp when you hear the shower turn off.

Steven steps closer. “Baby, we’ve been through so much, can’t you at least give me five minutes?”

You shake your head. “We’ve already said everything we needed to say.”

“No,” he whispers, taking your hand in his. “Trust me,” he says. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

You stare at him mutely as the bathroom door opens and Bradley walks out shirtless, a towel hanging off his hips. His body is still glistening with moisture. “What’s going on here?” he asks, tossing aside his hairbrush as he makes his way toward you and Steven.

You rip your hand out of Steven’s grasp and take a step back with a sharp intake of breath. Steven is watching you without flinching as Bradley approaches. “Five minutes,” he presses.

You marvel at his audacity as Bradley comes up behind you, winding his arm around you to place a hand over your midriff. He tugs you backward.

Steven ignores him. “Please.”

You feel Bradley’s arm tense around your body. “I think it’s time for you to go, Steven,” he says darkly.

But Steven’s doleful expression pulls at your heartstrings and you lay your hand over Bradley’s on your stomach, peeling his fingers away. Bradley takes a hold of your arm as you turn toward him, searching your face probingly. “I’ll be five minutes,” you say.

Bradley stares at you incredulously. “Are you serious?”

You sigh audibly, turning to Steven. “Can you wait for me outside?”

Steven nods and steps out, closing the door behind himself. You glance back at Bradley, who’s watching you tensely.

“We dated for years, Bradley. I owe it to him – and to myself – to hear him out.”

Bradley scoffs, shaking his head. “All I’m hearing is that he’s wasted enough of your time.”

“This is the last time I’m ever going to see him. I can’t say no.”

Bradley sighs resignedly, watching you grimly. “You’re too good,” he says.

You lift your eyebrows at him. “Hardly.”

He nods. “You are. And he’s taking advantage of it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taken aback by the earnestness of his tone. “It’ll be okay,” you say finally, walking around him to grab a change of clothes and head into the bathroom. When you come back out, he glances up at you, eyeing your sundress with a small, wistful smirk. His gaze slips down to your legs and then back up to your face.

“Man, I almost feel sorry for the guy,” he says.

“What? Why?” you ask.

“Because if this is how you look the last time he sees you, he’ll never fucking get over you.”

You glance down at yourself with a giggle. “You like my dress, then?”

Bradley chuckles, walking over to you. “Please be careful,” he says. “I don’t trust this guy.” You nod as he pulls you into an embrace. “And yes,” he adds, his hands squeezing your shoulders as he breathes out steadily into the top of your head. “I like the dress.”

You give him a tight smile before heading for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls as you’re about to open it. You turn back just as he appears behind you and dips his head down to give you a parting kiss. This one is soft, and fluid, and slow. You sink into him as his tongue slides delicately into your mouth, his touch along your back disarming. The languid pace of his lips is torturous. The gentle pull on your bottom lip with his teeth draws a moan out of you and you all but forget where you are, let alone where you were planning on going. “Just so you know,” he says, his forehead meeting yours as you crane your neck to cling to his lips for a moment longer. “If he tries anything, I’m going to murder him.”

Read Part VIII

Tag List:

The rest of the tag list is in the comments! Might take a while because I can only tag 5 at a time. If I don't get to you, I'm sorry!

XOXO

@lonelywitchv2

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teacheesee · 8 months

Text

beach day with zoro! (zoro x reader)

you and zoro spend a lovely day at the beach!

no pronouns used :)

warnings: fluff ⭐️

You huffed out with the weight of a few too many bags as you emptied the car of your stuff. Your sunglasses slipped down off your head over your eyes, while you were relieved of some of the weight you held.

“Need help?” Zoro asked, grabbing nearly everything from you. You peered up at him through your disheveled sunglasses and he laughed, turning to walk toward the boardwalk that led down to the beach. You followed him, umbrella in tow, starting to get excited for the fun afternoon ahead of you two.

The sun bore down as you chose the perfect spot and set up a blanket and the umbrella, right in front of his condominium complex, the beach relatively empty of other people.

“Man, it’s hot,” you wiped your forehead, “I’m gonna go to the water, be right back.” You stripped of your cover-ups and walked to the edge of the tide. You stared down, watching as sand drifted under your feet, too distracted to hear the dull thump of running feet coming from behind you.

Zoro crouched and picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder with ease, and continuing his sprint into the blue water. Your squeal of surprise quickly turned into a fit of giggles as he slowed down from the waves pushing against him. Your laughter was cut off soon, however, when he reached a deep enough spot to fall, taking you right down with him.

When you both surfaced but before he could recover, you lunged at him, tackling him back down. You laughed, choking slightly on the water that had managed to get up your nose. He stood up, shaking off his defeat with a smile, opting to tread over to where you stood.

“Off to a good start,” he said. You turned and smiled at him, deciding to walk back to the shore.

You dried off and laid down, opening your book and queuing some quiet music up on the speaker as Zoro laid next to you, falling asleep almost immediately in the warmth of the sun. After a while had passed, a half hour if you had to guess, he woke up to you still delved further into your book. He smiled as he looked at you, and you felt it, looking up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, closing his eyes once again before getting back on his feet. “Gonna walk a little.” It could’ve been the sun, but his ears looked pretty red. Rolling your eyes, you returned to your book. The sun was finally getting to you too, it seemed, as you decided to close your eyes.

A quiet shuffling behind you woke you up from your brief rest, and when you turned to look, Zoro was crouching at the edge of your blanket, looking like a deer in headlights. It definitely was not the sun this time. You scooted over to what he was doing, and he sat next to you.

He collected a bunch of shells and had arranged them for you in the sand.

“I know you like the smooth ones, and the red ones, and the ones with holes in the top so you can put them on necklaces,” he mumbled, looking away from you, “I thought you’d like them.”

“These are so cool!” you oogled at the collection, and it was an impressive one at that. “Zoro, there’s no way we can take all these home, did you leave some for the rest of the beach?”

He chuckled. “I know we can’t take them all, just thought you’d wanna see them. There is one I think we should keep, though,” he held out his hand to you and dropped what felt like a small stone in your open palm. When he pulled away, a sizeable round chunk of green sea glass sat in your hand. Your eyes lit up.

“No way! No way!” The excitement in your voice was enough to bring a smile back to his lips as he watched you hold the foggy green piece up to the sun.

“How did you find this,” you asked, eyes gleaming with happiness. He shrugged, and you reached around his neck and pulled him in to kiss his cheek. “You’re the greatest.” He leaned into you and rested his head on your shoulder, watching your hands fumble with the sea glass. He yawned.

“Nap time?” His yawn was contagious.

“Yeah.”

After gathering your things, you proceeded to walk back to the condo parking lot to drop off the beach supplies. You sighed, the hot summer heat finally getting to you, the cool relief of the air conditioner hitting you as you and Zoro walked into the condo.

“I’m gonna shower, then you’re gonna shower, and then its nap time.” He nodded in agreement, words long driven away from the excessive heat.

After he got out of the shower, he found you crouched over the kitchen table, messing with some thin string. He leaned over you, warming the air around him and you breathed in the refreshing smell of his body wash.

“Look!” You had figured out how to entrap the sea glass in a small web of string, and showed Zoro your handiwork. “A necklace! Cute, right?” You looked up. He took the necklace from your hands and tied it around your nape.

“Very.”

You stretched and yawned, standing up and walking into the bedroom. The cool sheets fell nicely against your frame as you settled in, Zoro joining you, eyes drooping with exhaustion. He moved next to you, pulling you against his chest as he finally closed his eyes. Your hand fiddled with the necklace as you looked at your sleeping lover, a smile crossing your face as you let your eyes close for a quiet afternoon nap.

_____________________•.*_____________________

A/N i’m probably the # 1 believer that zoro is a sweetheart. i hate when people make him the meanest guy alive >:( i don’t think he has the emotional capacity to be mean if he wanted to LOL he’s simple 😽

guys leave me requests i have no ideas i just keep writing about the things i do every day as if zoro is there too. which isn’t creative it’s bonkers. anyways toodles

wait not toodles i was listening to dionysus by the buttertones while writing this. if you even care 🙄

#one piece zoro #op zoro #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #modern au #one piece modern au #zoro fluff #fluff #PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS AND REQUESTS PLEASE OMG PLEASE

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fatallyfalling · 4 months

Text

Bitter Water 0.00 ~ ♆

“ Let the Reaping of the 67th annual Hunger Games begin, “

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

{{ word count }} 2.6 k

{{ prompt }} Panem is cruel - bloodthirsty even. Every year twenty-four children must fight to the death as a sick form of entertainment. Today is the 67th annual reaping in the seaside District 4 - may the odds be ever in your favor.

{{ a/n }} Warning there’s a lot of exposition for what i think life in District 4 would be like though it may not sound 100% accurate to the canon ideation! I did way too much research on District 4’s presumed location and the general pacific northwest seafaring system for accuracy. This chapter is a lot of scene setting to reference later on top of the reaping occurring - please enjoy !

The Pacific-Northwestern region of Panem was home to District 4. Otherwise known as the “Fishing District”.

Most of its citizens are concentrated directly on or near the salty coast of the sea, working the many sailboats or on the bustling ports that harbored them. Children of the district learn to help from an early age, shucking oysters and various mussels or helping their mothers weave and repair nets for the local fishermen. Everyone smelled of the sea - fresh air, sea salt, and a damp pine, with sand clinging to their shoes and linen clothes.

Though a majority of the year brought overcast skies and rainy weather, the better parts of mid-July through late August were filled with warm, sticky sunshine and cloudless skies. Come autumn and winter, cold snaps and heavier rain storms were regular visitors, with many homes donning rain barrels to collect the excess liquid to be boiled down for drinking or bathing. The northernmost edge of the District sometimes saw snow, bringing ice fishing and skating to measured popularity amongst locals.

The port towns were anything but sleepy. Community in a constant hustle and bustle while watching out for one another in tandem with the intense seafaring labor. Days spent on the beach were filled with tugboat horns, captain's orders, and elated shrieks of children wading in the spray of the ocean. There was always a game of who could find the best cliff to dive from, or conch shell to hear the distant whispers of waves inside and whatnot. A group of older kids developed a make-believe currency of sand dollar bits to trade wooden beads, small clusters of natural quartz, seashells, rope bracelets, and more to entertain the younglings on an outcropping speckled in tide pools on the rocky shore.

More often than not, a walk down the boardwalk as dusk neared brought warm golden lights flooding from old taverns with deep, joyous shanties of the past and banter amongst hardworking sailors merging with joyous whoops and hollers of young women and barmaids. Everyone knew one another like family, and the seaside town practically breathed on its own with the rolling push and pull of the tide.

However, the Fishing District was silent today.

Waves crashed on the beach as boats creaked in their ports. Scarred wooden tavern signs wailed in the eerie breeze on salt-rusted chains. The absence of sound in the sand swept cobble streets was almost unsettling. There’s only one day a year that invokes such an abrupt halt in District 4’s beating heart.

The annual Reaping of one female and male Tribute set to compete in a fight to the death against twenty two other children from the districts all for the Capital’s sick reminder of what rebellion once cost the “great nation” of Panem.

The Hunger Games.

You knew the odds were never in anyone's 'favor'.

“It’s fine. Everything - everything is going to be fine…”

The repeated mantra is barely a whisper under your breath as you make a futile attempt the smooth the front of your lightweight, sage colored ensemble. There was a tremor in your fingertips. The idea of getting cleaned up like this just to attend your own prospective funeral made your stomach twist painfully. Tucking a few stray hairs behind your ears and a deep sigh through your nose, you take one last look in the foggy mirror on your dresser before making your way out to the main room of your home.

Although the Fourth District was deemed wealthy among the remaining 12, your seaside cottage was quaint - and quite a ways from the beach, in all honesty. The home was small, if not cozy. The outside wooden panels were worn with smears of grey from age due to the weather, paired with a tin slabbed roof that allowed every raindrop to be heard throughout the house when it rained. The inside wasn't much better. Little furniture adorned the household and appeared washed out in the summer light. Ivory walls were marked with the mayhem of childhood and clumsy hands. The large main room held a mantle and hearth with a makeshift stove built in and a rickety dark stained wood table with four chairs connecting to a barebones bathroom and two bedrooms. There were fixtures and switches for lights but no electricity. Candles were placed where lightbulbs would be for nights when the hearth wasn't keeping the house warm.

"Come on, we've got to get moving, or we'll be late."

You groaned as the younglings, twin boys with hair like your father's, sat on the oval roving rug you had finished braiding two springs prior. "You were supposed to get them washed up." You quip towards the older man seated at the worn-out table. His only reply is a gruff rumble as you scoff, stooping to rub soot off the boy's cheeks with your thumbs. They burst into giggles, and you can't help the tight-lipped smile that crosses your lips.

You tried to be patient with your father. There had been too much loss in recent years, but it wasn't an excuse to neglect his boys. You had enough trouble picking up the slack as it was, from taking extra hours on the shipyard and staying up late mending sails like your mother used to. She passed away some years ago. There had been complications delivering the twins, and there wasn't anything the midwife you'd called could have done. It left your father resigned to himself, taking up more time at the nearby tavern than on the shipyard hauling crates due for the Capital. A foolish miscalculation and one too many drinks ended up costing him his dominant hand and forearm in a freak accident at the port.

To say you had fallen on hard times would be an understatement. It was more akin to plummeting down one of the tall cliffsides bordering the port and smacking face-first into the water like concrete.

Eventually, you managed to wrangle the little rascals into their shoes and straighten the collars of their matching olive-green tunics. Hoisting one onto your back with a huff, you tried to calm the drumming of your racing heart. Your father stood with another grunt and shrugged on a deep brown leather coat to cover what was left of his arm. Allowing the other half of the youngling pair to weave their fingers through his, your father offered a firm nod in your direction, and the four of you set out toward town.

Looking back on that moment, you regret not taking in that quaint little cottage one last time.

The trek to town was about a mile or two. The beat down from the summer sun brought sweat to your brow and the nape of your neck, forcing you to set down the toddler on your back halfway. "I know it's hot, but we have to keep going," You cooed when the pair began complaining about the lengthy trip. This would be the first Reaping they might remember, not to mention the first they weren't in diapers for. You'd done your best to keep them healthy, sometimes at the expense of yourself, but it was worth all the risk in the world.

With a little more commentary from the twins, the tall brick clock tower above the judicial complex at the center of town came into view above the pine trees, and you let out a shuddering breath that made your chest squeeze. "Almost there," You muttered. Averting your gaze to the dirt path under your feet. The sun was almost at its peak when you converged with the lines of other citizens. Many reeked of sweat and body order, having traveled through most of yesterday and this morning to get to the Reaping on time.

You didn't allow your fear to show more than a tightness in your jaw as you gripped your siblings tight in an almost bone-crushing hug. You refused to say goodbye as it felt like admitting defeat before the duel with death had even begun. After a few long moments, you heard the automated voices of Peacekeepers in stark white uniforms and government-ordered guns slung across their chests, and you had to let go. "I'll come back in just a few minutes," You promised, though your voice felt meek and caught in your throat. Ruffling their hair and sparking a fit of spritely laughter, you lifted your gaze to the hardened eyes of your father. "See you soon."

"See you soon."

Another brief, tight-lipped smile, and you forced yourself to turn away and join the other prospective tributes for check-in. Families were forced to remain in a balcony above the judicial complex due to such a large population and past "complications" from reaped children's family members. Anxiety and anticipation brought a tension thick enough to be cut by a knife through the courtyard of people. Wetting your lips following a thick swallow, you tried not to focus too much on the looming Peacekeepers overseeing the procession. When it was your turn to check in, you didn't stutter when asked for your name but scrunched your nose as they pricked your finger, squeezing to pool the blood before pressing it into the paper list and scanning with a device that flashed green. "Next!" The peacekeeper barked, shooing you away with a wave of their hand. Your gaze danced around the all too familiar formation of children as you fell in line with the older Tributes.

You were led in groups through a few back hallways before being brought into a widely open auditorium. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall with long Red capital banners hung on the dividing stone pillars. Clenching your trembling hands into fists, your fingernails digging into your palms, you tried again to steady your racing heart as it pounded against your ribcage.

Things were going to be fine.

Another thick swallow forced its way down your throat, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. The anxious habit often left your bottom lip puffy, if not bleeding from the repetitive action, but you couldn't help it. Shuffling into place to stand in rows and columns with the other prospective Tributes, you had to will yourself not to look anywhere but ahead. You couldn't break till this was all over. It was a long process to get everyone inside. But once the large wooden doors behind you slammed shut with a contagious shudder shifting through the crowd, you knew this was it.

The deafening cry of an unfocused microphone wails through the room, causing your nose to scrunch and your head to lean into your shoulder in discomfort. A stocky, overdressed Capital escort appears on the short stage made of stone to match the rest of the auditorium. They release a small gasp at the noise and allow a brief dismissal before tapping the microphone twice, the poor device exerting two loud "thumps" for good measure. Clearing their throat with a phlegmy cough, the escort begins a crawl of lines that were evidently rehearsed and regurgitated the same way every year to every district.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games!"

The escort's tone is elated, making you feel sick at the pride they seem to take in their position. Your jaw set in place as they continued their spiel.

"Before we begin, I'd like to share this wonderful message from our dear President and our beloved Capital!" They exclaim while gesturing to a letter they seem to pull from thin air. A small "shink" whispers through the mic as the letter is opened. The escort pulls a sheet of parchment out, discarding the envelope in a dramatic toss behind themselves and another phlegmy cough before reading the page.

"Dear Prospective Tributes,"

"It is an honor as the President of Panem to welcome you all to the annual Reaping for this year's Hunger Games. As you all have learned from birth. War, destruction, and rebellion have brought great shame to our nation. A shame that runs so deep that our Districts must be reminded of the consequences and retribution that rebellion costs. War brings death. War brings dead children, dead mothers, dead sisters, and dead brothers. To raise war against your Capital, which has provided you all you've ever needed, is treacherous. To bring war against your home is treason. These Games preserve our past. And these Games protect our future."

Signed, President Coriolanus Snow."

There isn't a single round of applause that rolls through the crowd once the escort finishes reciting the letter. The letter has been identical at every Reaping you've attended since you were twelve. The silence in the auditorium is loud enough to hear a pin drop. Your palms grow warm as blood slowly seeps from where your nails dig in, but you don't bother to take notice.

"Well then, if all is said and done, we shall now move on to selecting our two wonderful tributes who will hold the greatest honor of representing District 4 in the 67th annual Hunger Games. As always, ladies shall go first." The escort exclaims once more, accompanying animated waves of their gloved hands towards the pristine crystal fishbowls on either side of the stage. Both bowls are brimming with slips of paper. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears now.

Everything is going to be fine.

The escort all but skips their way to the crystal mouth of death on the right side of the stage. Your heart feels like it might as well burst out of your chest and splatter against the backs of those in front of you. Your eyes are glued ahead as the escort makes a show of sifting their gloved fingers through the name slips for what feels like an eternity. At last, a slip is chosen in a dramatic swipe up into the air to be displayed to the crowd.

The anticipation is suffocating.

The escort comes back to center stage, coughing into the microphone again as they peel away the black seal of the name.

As the chosen name booms through the auditorium, it's as if you're suddenly underwater. But you can't be underwater because you're standing still, and nothing's wet.

The name booms through the open room again.

This time, you're shocked out of your thoughts at the recognition.

It's your name.

You have been chosen as the female Tribute for the 67th annual Hunger Games.

You barely register the prod of a gun at your back or the jab to your side to force you out of line towards the stage.

This really was going to be your funeral, and you couldn't stop it.

A wail rips apart the blanket of silence as one of the twin younglings cries out for you. On instinct, your head whips towards the cry, but your temple connects with the butt of a gun, and you're knocked to the concrete below. Somehow, a sound akin to a growl emits itself from your throat on your hands and knees as you force yourself to stand back up. Your head throbs with white hot pain from the contact point, but a bitter, spiteful decision solidifies itself in your mind as you're led towards the jaws of certain death on that stage.

You will not die.

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy

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jpnriikicore · 10 months

Text

title: little slice of paradise

word count: 301

paring: colby brock x gn!reader ( reader wears a sundress )

with everything that happened the past few months you two needed a getaway - a little vacation for at least a week or two. that’s you ended up on the shore of the beach miles away from home at five in the morning. it was very hot and humid out, so decided to wear his favorite sundress was the best option you made. you held your sandals in your left hand as swing back and forth your intwined hands as you walked over to the empty boardwalk. all stores and restaurants were still closed. the only people that was on the beach was the few early birds running before they’re day started and others waiting for the sunrise.

"come on." you said, leading him to a photo booth you noticed yesterday when you was walking around finding a restaurant to eat at. you two squeeze in the tight space as he closed the curtain. you picked the options it gave you before it started counting down. the first photo you gave him bunny ears as he made a weird expression. the second photo you both did peace signs. the third photo you both did i love you signs.

you noticed his gaze, so you looked over him and you noticed how he looked at you. he smiled the kind of smile that reaches his eyes. "what?" a smile now reaching your lips.

"can i kiss you?" his eyes flickered between your eyes and lips. even after all these years he was still so polite. you slid your hand to the back of his neck leaning him in to meet your lips. the last photo flashed.

after collecting the photo strips you two laughed as you look at the photo booth strips of you two together. your own personal little slice of paradise.

#colby brock #colby brock imagines #colby brock imagine #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you

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simkoos · 2 years

Photo

heatwave beachwear collection by nucrests & simkoos

@nucrests and i have been planning this for a long time, so i’m a little extra excited to finally share with y’all! 🤍

my part consists of 3 swimsuits, 1 bikini and a sheer sarong accessory -- for feminine framed sims.

↣ download nucrests’ part here

as usual, all items are base game compatible, have correct lod’s, specs, normals, and shadows!

- coral swimsuit: 38 swatches: 18 default solids, 10 beach patterns, 10 neons. (accessory version is available under gloves category)

- lagoon swimsuit: 38 swatches: 18 default solids, 10 beach patterns, 10 neons. (accessory version is available under gloves category)

- sand dollar swimsuit: 38 swatches: 18 default solids, 10 beach patterns, 10 neons.

- conch bikini, top and bottom: 38 swatches: 18 default solids, 10 beach patterns, 10 neons. (accessory version is available under gloves category for the top only)

- boardwalk sarong: 28 swatches: 18 default solids, 10 neons. available under wrist right category.

download on patreon!!

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #s4cc #ts4cc #ts4mm #s4mm

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 13 days

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 5

I hope ya'll enjoy :D please comment and reblog, it really helps out (i just want that juicy feedback babyyy)

Two pristine white suits stood in the doorway. The laboratory's glaring white light bared down from behind the two men, framing them in an uneasy, uncertain shadow. Despite being indoors, the agents wore cold sunglasses, and one would be forgiven for assuming they were permanent fixtures on their heads.

"Our deepest condolences, Mr Wayne." The so-called Agent K said. Bruce Wayne noted not the slightest hint of condolence or sympathy.

He considered himself an effortlessly logical person. Someone who got what needed to be done, done. Someone who push away fear and stress in order to chip through the walls and find a path to victory in any situation.

But now, as he stared at the pile of bloody and torn clothes laid on the examination table, a DNA test on the side showing MATCH in bold letters, Bruce found himself blanking for the first time in years.

The first time since Jason...

Damian's tracker had blinked its last only hours before, and Bruce hopped on the first boat he could procure and organised a search part, recruiting the help of the local and governmental siren hunters, not that he was not still suspicious, but man power was man power, and his son was on borrowed time.

Time that had to be paid back.

"We could not find a body, sir. Your son has likely been consumed by the sirens."

No body. None. And that was not for a lack of trying. Divers had scoured the ocean floor underneath vigilant patrols. Sonars echoed across the bay and surrounding reefs. Nothing, not hide or hair or even a bone.

Bruce needed to stay calm, to stay effortlessly logical. There was no way to confirm a death just by some bloody clothes and a lack of a body. He needed to find a way, the only way.

"Thank, gentlemen. I'm gonna need a moment alone. I'll be returning to my room." The crack in "Brucie's" voice was not fake.

When Bruce got back to his hotel room, its emptiness like poison to his eyes, he beelined to his laptop. There he opened the staticky and blurry video showing the moment of disaster.

Damian was on the boardwalk, taking a moment for himself to get away from the hustle and bustle of yet another vapid party. All he wanted out of this trip was to see the fish...

An explosion rocked the boardwalk, sending splinters flying. The camera blurred into static. All that could be made out was a hand grabbing onto Damian's foot and pulling him under. The feed cut out.

Bruce played the recording again, and again, and again. Just like he had been doing all day. It was so blurry he couldn't even identify the colour of the hand.

Each time, his heart broke a little more. A tear came closer and closer to tearing its way out behind the barrier he'd put around his heart. The barrier these damn kids have wormed through over time.

Bruce dialed the phone. It answered on the first ring. "Dick, gather the family. I have some bad news..."

Danny buckled the last belt in his collection around his tail. Funny thing about belts, is that they're still useful even if you aren't wearing pants. The Fenton waterproof torch, the Fenton Stinger, Fenton Lipstick Laser among several other greatest hits slotted neatly into the loops of his belts along his tail. All he needed was a jacket and he might have a biker aesthetic to rival Johnny's.

Damian had spent the past hour or so pacing back and forth, trying to get a hang of his fins and occasionally bumping into a wall. Kid was itching to go out, and had taken to waving the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick around at imaginary enemies, despite having complained about the "inelegance of such a crude weapon."

"You will know suffering." He muttered. "I will make you beg for deliverance." He scowled.

Maybe Danny should introduce him to Sam. He feels like they'd get on like a house on fire.

Damian clung to his shoulder again, little arms wrapped around his neck for purchase as he swam out the cave. The Anti-Creep stick sat comfortably in a holster wrapped round the kid's waist with a knot Danny had to retie six times because he was so small. It was mid afternoon and the sun bathed the reef in bright colours like a warm blanket.

"We should keep an eye out for any other weapons. Our current stock is not enough."

Danny snorted. "You sound like a serial killer talking like that, you know?"

"I am more dangerous than a serial killer." Damian huffed. Danny could feel the offence radiating off him. To think that a himbo like Bruce Wayne could spawn someone with this many sticks up his ass. "And more intimidating."

"Please threaten me more. I'm shaking in my non-existent boots."

Damian growled. A deep guttural sound that rumbled his chest and tickled Danny's scales. Well, it would've been deep if Damian weren't half Danny's size.

"Where is your map and compass? How are we to get to Panama without navigation equipment?"

"Relaaax! We don't need a map because I've got a little something called celestial navigation." See Sam and Tuck? His space obsession was useful in his siren life!

The smaller siren head sank and banged on Danny's. "It is broad daylight."

Danny grinned over his shoulder. "Yeah that was a joke."

Damian screeched.

Danny laughed as he surfaced and got himself some fresh air. Calm waters for miles around them. Slowly he kicked off the swim, building up speed. "Relaaaax. It doesn't take a genius to figure out we need to go south."

"The only reason I have allowed you to live is because you are my only way home."

"As if I couldn't literally sit on you and you'd be helpless."

"I should invite you to try!"

Thousands of miles of blue ocean stretched on in every direction Damian looked. Below the two of them, the ocean floor lay deep enough that all Damian could see was a blur. Just above, the surface of the water rippling from slow winds blazes past. Phantom's strength lets them cut through the water at breakneck pace. The water rushing past his ears and fins reminds him of flying with Jon, if only much thicker than air in the upper-atmosphere.

Light from above, and unending darkness below. It was the darkness that Damian focused on. Occasionally, a tingle spread down his back and through his tail, like a warning, only for nothing to be visible underneath. The first few times, he shivered from surprise. Then it just unnerved him.

He'd read about lateral lines on sharks and other fish before, as a curiosity. Never had he imagined he would come to possess one himself, and never that it would feel so natural that it was difficult to parse it out from all his other sensations. The idea of not feeling this new sensation felt foreign, and unnerving, even though this form was the foreign one.

He would never admit this to anyone, but he didn't know much longer he could deny the creeping feeling on his neck. For all Phantom appeared friendly, Damian knew nothing of his motivations, or even his true character. If Phantom decided he didn't want anything to do with Damian, then what? With no weapons save a measly baseball bat, no contact with the outside world, no armour, no legs, no support and no knowledge of how to survive, he would be good as shark meat.

Damian tightened his grip on Phantom's neck. He was supposed to be above fear, and yet why was his heart pounding so hard?

A series of fast clicking echoed from the distance. Damian jerked his head to the left. Through squinted eyes hie made out long slender forms swimming parallel, their tails undulating up and down.

"Are those dolphins?" Damian muttered.

Phantom turned to the same sight, and raised his eyebrows. "Huh, I guess they are-" Damian jerked Phantom to their direction.

"We must approach them immediately!"

Phantom's body almost tumbled out of his normal swimming rhythm from the shock. "What? What for?"

"We must! The only reason I agreed to come to Amity Island was to see the sea creatures."

"Dude, you know dolphins can be total assho-" But Damian was having none of it. To solidify his point, he clamped his teeth into Phantom's shoulder, focusing them on the part where bone jutted out. Even if they couldn't penetrate, the blunt force against bone would be very painful.

"YOUCH Alright alright alright alright can you please stop biting me!"

Phantom rerouted their course, and Damian chittered in satisfaction. "Excellent."

The dolphins were as beautiful and majestic as he could have ever imagined. It was a small pod, comprising of about five adults, all swimming together in stunning synchrony. Phantom swam at a cautious distance, close enough to admire but too far to touch. How he longed to pet a dolphin... Even Damian slapping him with his tail could only move him an inch closer.

"Dude, I've dealt with dolphins before, and they're literally the most evil beings on the planet, right next to toast and Vlad."

Damian huffed. If only he had a camera on him. To swim alongside dolphins at top speed, out in the wild... He was pretty sure he was drooling, or would have been.

He'd just have to commit the scene to memory, and paint it when he got home.

The thought of home made his fins droop a little.

He felt a finger poking at his cheek. "Hey Damian, you ok? Fine, I'll give like two inches, but that's it."

Damian snappes teeth at him. "I am perfectly fine. Just thinking."

Before Phantom could get closer, Damian saw one member of the pod swerve right for them. Instinctively, he ducked, only for the dolphin to somersault overhead, twirling three times before 'landing' right of them. Two more of its podmates followed suit as they danced in circles around them. One of them came so close he could even catch its scent. It smelled tangy, like freedom and excitement.

Seeing dolphins performing manoeuvres at aquariums was one thing, sitting in dries seats what felt like half a world away from the water, but here? Damian felt the water stolen from right out of his gills.

And the best part was rubbing it in to Phantom. "What was that you said while disparaging these beautiful creatures?"

"Dude, don't these guys smell weird to you?" Even now he was suspicious? The dolphins smelled perfectly fine.

"Not in the slightest. I believe you are just trying to save face."

"Dude, I've seen dolphins before. Plenty of them, but none of them smelled this.. familiar."

Then again, now that Phantom mentions it, those moves seemed just a bit too disciplined for a wild animal. Just a bit too measured...

Damian's hackles spiked up. They were surrounded.

"Phantom, get us out of-"

Deafening squeals blasted from every direction. The noise was so horrible Damian could barely see. His ear fins felt like cracked glass. His field of view was getting darker. They were sinking.

Phantom moved Damian so he was flat against his chest and curled up. The boys crash landed into the barren sea floor. Pain erupted from every surface as debris and particles tore scales and broke fins. Phantom's screaming mixed into the water with teal blood. He held onto Damian like a vice the entire time.

They finally came to a stop. Damian's head spun and spun and his ears rang. He dimly noted the criss-crossing ropes of a fishing net entrapping them. Above him, the blasted dolphins loomed over them in circles like they were sharks, and in the centre floated a man in a large metal suit, a metal suit sporting a malicious, leopardlike grin, a grin that for a moment he could not place, until his mind cleared.

That was the last thing he ever had ever seen as a human.

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