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lunarw0rks · 2 months

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*groveling on the floor* nice simon

pleeaase anything w big sweet man simon 😭🩵

ugh… you know what's been on my mind lately?? neighbor!au with all my favorite men - but especially simon! here are some of my thots;

he's so... awkward and off-putting. in the sweetest way. like a stray dog that's only allowed to bite you. neighbor!simon, who's the perfect coresident. rarely home, and if he is, you don't even notice! except for those awkward elevator rides...

obviously, simon being the most vehement introvert, does his best to avoid him. but it's a shady apartment building. things happen; maintenance or rowdy visitors blocking the stairway. so sometimes it's easier to suffer thirty seconds of agonizing silence.

there was you. across the hall from the strange, intimidating man. it's difficult not to be frightened, especially when his way of communicating is through grim eye contact, or god forbid a deep sigh when you accidentally bump into him.

neighbor!simon is never upset with you, though. grumpy is merely his default :( for many reasons. but he always feels awful when you give him that anxious look or go out of your way to make space for him in the narrow hall.

it's not every day he meets someone like you, quiet and respectful of his boundaries. let alone live next to. so... he began to make peace his own way. taking advantage of him always being up at dawn; salting the pavement by your patio to ensure your safe commute to work. cleaning up the stack of mail that the courier tossed at your box, tucking it in neatly.

aaaand eventually moves on to more outgoing gestures. knocking on your door, two little taps with his knuckle. asking if you heard "that noise" outside, purely to make sure you were alright. partially his overthinking getting the better of him, also a cheeky move on his part to see your face.

finds a way to learn more about you, even when you're at your most bashful. typically, when he's caught you in your nightclothes, all pampered and ready for bed. next to him, you feel ridiculous, as if he's not wearing the most basic athleisure.

sometimes neighbor!simon will lean against the entrance of the building, watching cars and listening to the city noise. but he isn't out there for fun. in his mind he's waiting on someone; you. when he hears the creak of the rickety door opening, his posture becomes even straighter than usual.

"bloody cold out here, isn't it?" his gruff voice murmurs, breath visible with every word. months ago, the presence would've startled you. but you'd grown used to his very predictable, unpredictable routine of running into you.

you sigh out your words, rubbing your icy fingers together. no gloves, he notices, but doesn't acknowledge. "why aren't you inside, simon? place is pretty cozy if you look past the water damage."

simon scoffs, "i like the cold," he places his hands into his pockets and reaches for the door handle. "y' workin' today, love?" he inquires, despite noticing your work bag slung over your shoulder.

you mutter an unenthusiastic 'yes', exhaustion evident in your features. it's too damn early for you to be out and about, struggling to make ends meet.

he hums to himself as he walks away, waiting until your figure disappears before crossing the street. he's on his way to the nearest shop.

that evening, when you return to your flat with dragging feet, there's no sign of neighbor!simon. out front, out back, or in the hall. only sign of life is the flickering lamp peaking under the gap of his front door. frankly, you're too exhausted to think about it much.

you raise your key to the lock, stepping forward when it gives way. something blocks your foot, nearly sending you tumbling forward. you peer down at the quaint gift box, nearly embarrassed at the tumble it gave you. proves that your post-work tunnel vision is no joke.

curiously, you examine it. no fancy wrapping paper, plain cardboard. and in place of the ribbon is some decorative twine, halfway decently tied into the shape of a bow. with a gentle tug, you release it and take off the lid. the aroma of cardboard is stronger now, as well as a spritz of a very familiar cologne.

gloves; knitted and coordinated to match your winter jacket. you smile to yourself, taking one last look at simon's door behind you, just as he shuts off the lamp for the night, the spotty yellow glow ceasing.

waiting on you to get home safe, no matter how late. of course, there's a price tag on them. he's not that showy, or crafty. anything he'd try to knit would end up a crumpled slab of yarn.

stepping inside your flat, you set your things down on the counter and run your finger over the soft, thick material. you can already picture the relief these will be on your walk, no longer clocking in with stiff, frozen fingers. new winterwear was on your list for months, but you're notoriously bad at gifting yourself nice — basic — things. and apparently, it shows.

the hollow box rattles when you set it down, as do your keys. finally, you slip them on, thinking of all the days you passed your neighbor simon. never knowing how observant he could be, in the sweetest way.

and they're a perfect fit, of course.

#neighbor!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x you #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw3 #rachel speaks

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Thot of the day: Eddie pins you against the wall, choking you with one hand and fingering you with the other, occasionally kissing you sloppily when he's not saying the filthiest words known to mankind 🥴

i uhh, indulged a little bit on this hope you love it bb 💋 part ii

eddie x female! reader

w.c 2.4k

Warnings: no minors! p in v unprotected sex, a pinch of voyeurism, biting, rough sex, mentions of anal sex, cheating.

The cool of the bricks tickle your skin, lightly grazing your shoulder blades, scuffing the thin material of your shirt gently as you’re pushed further into the hard surface. “Such a fucking slut aren’t you?” The ringed hand gripping your throat squeezing harder as tears trickle down your cheeks. Your eyes scan wildly around him, looking for any wandering eyes or people suddenly interested in taking the alley behind Melvald’s. “Bet you like this huh? The thought of being caught?” His lips land on yours, harshly sucking and biting at your bottom lip. He kisses the sting away when you hiss from the bite.

“Yes,” you moan into Eddie’s mouth, whimpering as his other hand travels down to the hem of your skirt, lifting it quick and slapping at your clothed pussy, groaning as his hand comes back soaked.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans into your ear, nipping at the lobe, “you’re so wet.” He slips a thick finger around your panties moving them to the side, as he pushes two thick, ringed fingers into you. Your pussy clenches around him, knees going weak as he plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. His thumb gathers your slick and rubs circles around your clit. You melt at his touch. You’d been fooling around with Eddie for weeks now, and everytime it got hotter and hotter. He plucks his fingers from your pussy and shoves one of them in his mouth, “taste so good, baby.”

“Baby?” You ask with poison behind the word, “I thought that was only for her?” The grip on your neck tightens, Eddie’s whiskey black eyes are furious, at the mention of his girlfriend. And you know you hit a nerve, that mouth of yours refusing to play nice— and you know you’ll pay for it.

“Open your mouth.” He growls, looking down at you with a glare.

Oh he’s mad. “Why?” You test, knowing damn well this won’t end good for you but loving every second of it.

His eyes pitch to black, pupils erased by his carnal expression. You could practically feel the daggers, stabbing into you from his stare. He can’t fucking stand you, hates your guts, but can’t tear himself away from that pretty pussy of yours, and he knows that you know that. “Open your fucking mouth, now.” You roll your eyes and open your mouth slightly, annoyed by his antics, but your cunt hasn’t stopped throbbing yet. He hooks his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and yanking it open more for him, the taste of your juices dripping onto your taste buds. He swirls his thumb around your tongue. “What have I said about you mentioning her?” You roll your eyes at him again, defying him any chance you get. The hand around your throat tightens again, his hand deepening it’s grip. “Answer me.”

“You s-said not to,” you mumble around his thumb. Fighting the urge to moan, he’s just so hot when he’s mad. And sometimes you can’t take him seriously.

“Yes, that’s right, so why,” Eddie releases your neck and grabs your face harshly, squeezing so your lips are puckered out, and his thumb now gone from your mouth, “is that so hard to understand? Hmm? Are you fucking stupid, kitten?” Eddie seethes; teeth clenched, rings digging into the plump of your cheeks, voice icy and dark. When you don’t answer he cocks his head raising his eyebrows at you, as a single tear threatens to spill from your lash line. He pulls your face towards him, ghosting his lips against your own, waiting for your answer.

“N-no, Eddie,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on his, returning the pissed off stare he is giving you, batting your lashes innocently up at him.

He shoves you back into the wall, his body flush with yours. Leaning forward he connects his lips with yours briefly, “I think you like making me mad,” you moan out as he bites hard on your lip, releasing his death grip on your face, and placing his hand necklace around your throat again. “I think,” he starts, kicking your feet apart, widening your legs, “that you do it on purpose.” His fingers flick through your folds again, pulling out to slap at your cunt as you moan and whimper for him. His face is pressed against your cheek as he hums into your ear, voice dripping with desire and laced with poisonous anger, racing through your entire body and flooding your pussy into his palm. “That’s right? Hmm? You’re such a fucking whore for me that you like when I get rough with you?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer this time, knowing damn good and well that he’s right. He dips his fingers back into your pussy, harshly thrashing in and out, the lewd schlick of your sopping wet cunt flooding your ears.

This isn’t the first time he’d been like this, in fact it rarely wasn’t like this, it turned you on how fucking deranged he could get. Eddie the freak Munson had two different meanings in Hawkins. The only scary thing about Eddie was the size of his cock.

You throw your head back against the brick, licking your lips as Eddie’s fingers sink further and further into your aching cunt, the stretch feeling easier with time. “Eddie, fuck,” you moan into the shadows of his curls, clutching onto his arms as his assault quickens.

“I love when you say my name,” Eddie sneers, pulling his face away from yours, burrowing those dark coal eyes on your face, “open up for me,” your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as Eddie’s spit lands on it. The act made his dick twitch in his jeans as you moved your tongue against your lips, coating them with the mix of him and you. Your hands quickly move down his arms against his chest, pulling him to you, you snake your tongue against his neck, biting and sucking deep into his alabaster skin. “No hickies,” he breathes against your ear.

“Tell her you burnt yourself curling your hair I don’t give a fuck,” You protest, a hint of evil in your voice, tongue flicking sweetly against his neck, “I wear your hickies like a common street whore,” you pant into his neck, inhaling the smoky mint aroma of him, biting at the protruding vein, “it’s time you do the same.” His eyes roll into his skull as you move your hands through his hair, pulling him deeper into you. His fingers—still pumping inside you.

“Fuck you’re gonna kill me,” he grunts, undoing his belt with the hand that was just on your neck, he shoves his pants and boxers down, rubbing his thumb over the precum on his cock. You whine as his fingers curl into you, biting your lip as they disappear into your weeping folds faster and faster. Your hand reaches for his cock, pumping him quick, he can’t take it anymore. He hauls you up in his arms holding you steady with the help of the brick exterior wall, slotting his cock between your velvet folds. You both moan as he drags it back and forth, coating himself with your slick, thumping it against your clit like a tongue would a loose tooth. You close your eyes in anticipation, your own hand squeezed tight against your tit, finger rolling your nipple like a joint, licking the plump of your lips. “Nah uh babe, eyes on me,” Eddie scolds, “you’re gonna watch me fuck this little pussy.”

Without hesitation, Eddie slams the reddened tip of his cock into your aching hole, not waiting for the stretch to stop burning before his entire length is balls deep. You keep your eyes on him, watching the almost hostile way his eyes get when he pulls out and fuck you again, harder— the brick of the wall ripping tiny holes into your thin shirt, “Jesus Christ,” he moans out, as you carve your nails into the denim of his shoulders, clutching for dear life as he slams into you again, and again, “so fucking tight.”

His mouth moves to your neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, dipping below your ear and sucking a bruise into it. His unwavering thrusts are deeper, rolling his hips up into you. “Eddie,” you ghost barely forming his name on your tongue as your orgasm creeps forward. The coil in your belly tightening with every pump of his cock into your pussy, nearly poking your guts with the how ferocious he’s fucking into you. Must have been a bad fight. They had been arguing lately, you only knew that because Eddie was coming around more and more, finding you at work—which is where you were before he flipped the open sign to closed in the window and dragged you out of the back door. Normally, he would wait til dark, sneak through the basement window of your bedroom, fuck you until the sun peaked through the blinds then make his dramatic entrance. Passing by at school like ships in the night, every so often a stolen glance but never any communication. You got Eddie the way that she couldn’t. He knew that, and so did you. “S-so fucking big, oh my god,” the guttural moan eliciting your mouth was wavering on full out yelling. Nobody fucked like Eddie Munson. Not Billy, Steve or any other tight jean wearing asshole.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” Eddie grunts, “like this fucking dick splitting you open?” He sucks your response from your mouth, a breathless whimper. The pressure of his cock filling you up made you feel drunk. Woozy from the inside out. His girth rubs your walls raw. Nobody before or since you started fucking him has made you physically ache the day after. Not forgetting the time she humiliated him by not showing up to one of his gigs on a Tuesday night and he pumped your ass full of his cum in the back of his van in the parking lot, his handprints imprinted on your swollen butt cheeks for weeks. You had to take the next day off from school and sit on frozen ice packs for two days, taking Tylenol every 6 hours. The owner of the bar had been giving you weird looks ever since.

Eddie’s bangs clung to his forehead, his dark eyes were glaring into your soul as he mercilessly fucks you harder. You’re a whimpering mess for him, always saying yes to him, always ready to go whenever he stopped by, cock swinging ready to go. He loved liked that about you.

You lean forward and bite his lip, marking him up the way he did to you. Not giving a single ounce of a fuck if she found out about this, about all the times he came crawling to you, after they fought, after she blew him off to go see a movie with her friends, forgetting his birthday. It was simple really—Eddie needed attention, and you gave it to him. Plain and simple.

He groans in response, pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it around wildly, painting it. Your legs ached from being wrapped around Eddie’s waist, the heels of your converse digging into the ass.

“Fuck I love this pussy,” Eddie whines against your lips, “so fucking tight, so fucking—good, you fuck the others like this baby, or am I the only one?” He already knew the answer to this, he asked every time he was buried deep in your cunt. Making sure that you were only his, he could fuck whoever, but you? No, you were his.

His hand sneaks down to your clit, rubbing circles again with his thumb, flicking it around until the sensation builds. “O-only you Eddie,” you purr against his lips, his relentless thrusts and skilled fingers working together on your clit like a guitar riff. “ ‘m gonna come, I’m coming I’m coming..” Your high hits its peak, the achiness in your legs subsides as you convulse around Eddie, coming harder than you can remember ever having done before, black blurring your vision as you come undone. Your heart feels like it’s going to pump out of your chest. You’re screaming his name, pulling at his hair as he bites your neck, praising you as you milk a ring on his cock, coating him with your high.

“Such a good fucking girl, coming like that for me, making a mess of me,” he blubbers into your neck as his own release hits, he bites into your neck clamping down as he grunts, your yelp only making him come harder, his release fills you up and dribbles down your legs, hot ropes flooding your cunt. He releases his teeth from your neck and licks the bite marks until the blood is gone.

Sliding down the wall, scraping your ass as you let yourself down, your fingers prick at the bite on your neck, “Christ Eddie what are you a fucking vampire?” He laughs at your pain, relishing in another mark bestowed upon his favorite girl.

“Why you into that?” He scoffs, shoving his come covered cock back into his jeans and zipping them up. He lights the joint he had tucked behind his ear. He offers you a hit as you both lean against the wall, breath ragged as you smooth down your skirt and blow a stream of smoke between your lips.

This is when you’re the prettiest to him, all fucked out and almost haggard looking like the many women at the bar. Lips swollen from his kisses, hair askew, and your neck fresh with bites, purpling in the fading sunlight.

“Seems like you’re more into it than anyone,” you pout as he steals the joint back from you, you move in front of him, angling his chin up as you bite a matching print into his neck, giggling as he winces but too slow to move from the exhaustion and the high working through his body.

“Ouch, what the fuck was that for?” he yells, slapping a hand to the bite.

You wiggle your hips in front of him and shove your ass into his crotch, teasing him. “Fair is fair baby, try explaining that one to her.”

Too far.

Not 5 minutes later and Eddie has you bent over his knee in the back of his van, panties shed to the carpeted floor amongst the candy wrappers and loose cords. Your skirt hiked up high, ass cheeks red from the bite of his hand, spanking you for disobeying him, again. A smile plastered across your face.

currently taking requests in my ask box for this | pls enjoy : part ii

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n smut #eddie smut #mean!eddie munson

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sprout-fics · 10 months

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for thursday night thots, I just want Maus and Horangi to team up against König. Make that big boy sweat

This ended up more with a Maus sandwich than anything, oops-

The hand stroking the side of your face is gentle, calloused knuckles grazing over the warmth of your cheek as your breath comes in uneven, ragged exhales. It feels too affectionate for the moment you’re wrapped in, chest heaving, body trembling as the sharp stab of pleasure laces up your spine and sets your tender skin aflame. There’s drool collecting in the corners of your mouth, eyes closed with feverish sensation as you’re enveloped from above, below, between.

“Good girl, Maus.” A level voice praises from above, silky and dragging low in his chest. It’s not nearly as undone as it should be, and there’s a brief flash of annoyance that pulses through you at that- the way Horangi seems so damned collected despite your efforts on him.

The thought is vanquished when the massive hands splayed against your hips drag you back just as König rolls his pelvis forward, rocking into the dripping, wet clutch of you stretched like a vice around him. The press of him inside you, filling you so wholly, so completely, makes you breathe out hard, bracing your forehead against the bare, smooth skin of Horangi’s stomach. A moan drops from the bottom of your chest as König's aim rings true- a slow precise thrust that has stars explode against the back of your vision.

“F-fuck!” You whimper, voice cracking as you grip at Horangi as an anchor, trying to retain your own desire long enough to make sure the massive soldier behind you can last as well.

A hand reaches down to lift you by your chin, drag your eyes up to a dark stare as Horangi tilts his head at you, a smile lifting the edges of his mask.

“Feel good, Maus?” He asks idly, and you nod frantically against him, eyes lidded with lust-drunk haze, fists clenched against his stomach where his cock rests flushed and heavy, leaking pre-cum against his scarred skin.

“Yes. Yes.” You groan out, and whimper when Konig rolls himself forward again, somehow managing to lodge himself deeper inside you. Your entrance is stretched obscenely around the girth of him, the curve of his cock inside you scraping against something soft, searing with every languid, slow thrust. You can’t help but clamp down on him, walls fluttering as your cunt tries to refuse him a retreat.

“So tight, Maus.” He grits above you, fingers digging bruises into your hips with the force of his restraint. “F-feels so good-”

He stops mid sentence, and you look up as Horangi levels him with a look- a warning that you feel shiver through him, exhilarated at the silent and subtle command to stay quiet.

“That’s it, Maus.” Horangi murmurs down at you, and he guides your head down to the tip of him again. You accept him eagerly into your mouth, now more intent on your task as you hollow your cheeks and suck.

That at least seems to elicit a reaction from him, because Horangi’s grip on your nap tightens and he grunts a low, restrained sound that has you hum around him in satisfaction.

“Maus…” König whines from behind you, and there’s a hand that pushes on the dip of your bare spine, arching you further up to meet him. “Pay attention to me too.”

It’s just a touch desperate, pleading and sweet and needy in the ways you love the most from him. You press your hips back with a low, heady groan that echoes around Horangi’s cock, forgetting your task for a moment.

You don’t expect it when Horangi shifts and then leans up, seizing a fistful of König's hood and dragging him down. The weight of König settles across your back as he yelped and forces his hands to brace on either side of you. It forces him at an angle inside you, drags him in and up and the sound you make as a result is nothing less than obscene.

“I said.” Horangi tells him, entirely composed, voice icy. “Stay quiet.”

You’re gasping under the weight of your boyfriend atop you, under the press of him inside that forces the air up your lungs and the coiling flash of searing pleasure inside you building higher and higher until you have to pound the bed wordlessly in a desperate attempt to catch the Korean’s attention.

“Please-” You beg, voice cracking and König twitches inside you. “P-please, Horangi- hah… Ho-”

“Go on, Maus.” He encourages you softly, still not releasing König even as the Austrian rolls his hips down against you at just the right angle to make your voice rise sharply in pleasure. “Go on and cum for him.”

Your fingers fist the sheets, and you wonder if somehow they’ll be shredded by the end of this, but the thought chokes into nothingness as König draws back just enough for you to have a moment to breathe before snapping his hips forward sharply in unerring precision. It’s unexpected, but between the salty taste of Horangi on your lips, the stretch of König inside you, the weight of him across your back and the nerves that alight in splendid pleasure at his thrust your wails as you clamp down on him, orgasm snapping inside you hard enough to give you whiplash. You bite down on the flesh of Horangi’s stomach and the Korean chokes at the unexpected severity from you, releasing König enough for him to lean back and gasp as your walls flutter and pulse around him.

“M-Maus-” He whimpers, high and reedy, hips dragging you back so he can feel as much of you as possible as the aftershocks roll down across your hips and through your core. “Maus, Maus, Maus- Fuck-”

You brace your forehead against Horangi’s stomach as you come down, and once more that hand grazes gently over your face, drawing you up to his bright, keen gaze before he tells you:

“Again.”

#horangi x reader x konig #horangi x reader #konig x reader #thursday night thots

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beefrobeefcal · 7 months

Text

Dark!Frankie Saga: I

Chapter One: Signed and Sealed

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,353

Content Warning: Not smut yet (apologies), references to SA, drugs, violence, threats of violence, crime, food talk, weight talk

Author's Notes: An everlasting and beautiful thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for their never-ending THOTs, hot takes, and for beta'ing this. Your support is why I adore this platform - Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜 Y'all say thank you to Nevy for basically brainstorming this with me!

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry.

I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

--------<3---------

The reality of the situation was hitting you hard. Your older brother, the one most would think of as a protector, had betrayed you in the worst way imaginable.

He had a drug problem for the majority of his adult life, but now it had become a full-blown catastrophe. Steven, your brother, owed money to some of the worst people in the state, maybe even the country. The Frontiersmen, a powerful syndicate, had allowed him to rack up a ridiculous debt that they knew he wouldn’t be able to pay, but you didn’t know what he’d put down as collateral – you.

You were now nothing more than a bargaining chip to prolong your brother’s coke problem and buy him more credit. You were now property being handed over to a terrifying group of men who made a profit off of people’s darkest needs.

“I know... I know I fucked up... I know I did.”, Steven sobbed into his hands in front of you. “I thought I’d be able to pay them back...”

You sat in your living room, numb to it all, watching Steven cry. You knew he was sorry now, but you doubted it was because of what he’d done to you. No, you were sure it had more to do with the fact that the Frontiersmen had cut him off until he paid his debt. Until you were turned over to pay that debt.

You weren't sure if it was minutes or hours that you sat and watched him sob in your living room, but it was interrupted by a knock at your door. Your head took a minute to process that your body was already moving and opening the door.

Standing in front of you was a tall, blond man and a shorter, dark haired man. Both their eyes were on you in cold stares. You just stared right back. You guessed who they were, or at least what they were doing here at your apartment. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and opened the door to allow them entrance.

The taller, blond man moved passed you and into the living room while the smaller, dark haired man waited for you to move so he could close the door and lock it.

You gave him a curt smile and nod, stepping back away from the door.

After closing the door, he turned around and looked you up and down, with a small, yet menacing smile. He huffed in a dry laugh before motioning you to the living room.

A sour feeling washed over you and your mouth salivated like you were going to be sick, but you looked down and walked into the living room where your brother was on his knees in front of the blond man.

“... so she had no idea you signed her life away?”, the blond man scowled then turned to look at you.

His icy stare caused you to shrink and wrap your arms around yourself. You stepped back, bumping into the shorter, dark haired man. His hands came to your arms gently and he held you in place.

“Benny...”, he warned in a low tone. “We came here for two things: payment and a reminder.”

Your body trembled in his hold, and he rubbed your arms gently. You knew better than to believe he actually gave a shit about you, and he was more than likely doing this to get you to go with them without making a scene. You weren't going to resist; their reputation was more than enough incentive to go quietly.

“He’s a shitbag, Pope... fucking sold out his sister!”, he barks, his eyes narrowing at you, then snapping to the other man while he motioned his hand at you. “She didn’t even know!”

“Payment, Benny!”, Pope spoke sharply. “Payment and a reminder. That’s it.”

You jumped when Pope’s volume increased but stayed in place, and Benny looked at you again, his eyes now reading more furious than cold.

You swallowed thickly, the lump in your throat growing, and looked down.

“I’ll fucking remind this sonofabitch...”, Benny muttered as pulled out a rag and wrapped it around his fist.

Your lip trembled and Pope’s hands stopped their gentle rubbing, and he held your arms a little firmer, pulling you back against him.

“You don’t need to see this, honey.”, he said softly in your ear, causing you to shudder at the warmth and tenor of his voice. “Unless you want to...”

You kept your gaze low, not noticing the look of remorse and sympathy Benny gave you as you shook your head.

“Come on then.”, Pope said softly, turning you around and tilting your face up to his with his finger and thumb on your chin. “Are you gonna behave or do I have to cuff you?”

Your eyes widened and your body’s trembling intensified; you shook your head and squeaked out, “I... I’ll behave.”

Pope smiled at you, eyes roving over your face, and he nodded. “Let’s get some things packed up for you and head to the car.”

He watched as your shaky hands packed a bag in your bedroom; clothing, toiletries and personal items. He confiscated your cell phone and laptop, saying that they had to be secured first and you might get them back. He picked up your packed back and led you to the door.

The last thing you heard as Pope led you out was the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh and Steven scream.

*****

Frankie was a reluctant leader. He didn’t ask to be put in charge, but his strategic problem solving, and his restrained demeanor worked in his favour to put him at the top.

Since Tom was taken out, both Pope and Will had said that Frankie was the best choice to lead the Frontiersmen if he gave up his coke habit. Kicking that was easy; the hard part was filling the void that was left. But he found something with relative ease.

Will watched Frankie as he finished his large pizza; he was now used to watching Frankie eat in their meetings. He’d watched as Frankie had gone from being a lean and muscled soldier with an angular face to what the new leadership role had carved him into over the past few years – big. His thick and muscled arms stretched his sleeves, his face was fuller with a patchy beard, and big belly pulled every shirt he owned taut around the middle when he hadn’t eaten to capacity. Despite his weight gain, Will was glad his friend and boss was off the smack.

“Where’s Pope and Benny?”, Frankie asked between bites.

“Picking up payment from that skid, Steven. Not money.”, Will said, eyes down in his notes, avoiding Frankie’s questioning look.

“Not money?”

“The collateral he put his debt against.”, Will said in a blunt tone, hoping to move on before having to elaborate. “We have a few things we need to iron out when they get back...”

“Collateral but not money?”, Frankie asked again in a firmer tone. “Explain what the fuck that means.”

Will sighed. This ‘collateral’ was a holdover from when Tom was in charge, and despite him not liking it, he felt it necessary to hold Steven accountable and take what they were owed; he agreed to the decision with Pope to move forward, and they were both going to tell Frankie about it. But Pope wasn’t back yet, and it was left to Will.

“It’s not money.”, Will said, avoiding Frankie’s raised eyebrows.

“Yeah... I got that. So, what is it?”

“His sister.”

Frankie groaned and put his head in his hands. “Please, for the love of god, tell me Pope isn’t bringing back a person in lieu of payment.”

“He is.” Will kept his eyes low. He knew he and Santi were taking a risk doing this, especially given they were going above Frankie’s head. But they also knew that Frankie needed to put fear in the minds of anyone who had a debt to pay.

Frankie’s jaw tightened and he sat back and looked at Will.

“Will.”, he barked. “Look at me and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“It’s an old contract we had with this guy... it was done up under Tom.”, Will paused, then sat forward, hardening his tone. “Look, Pope made the call and I agreed. You need to scare the people that owe you money; you need to collect on your debts. People are starting to think you’re going soft, Fish.”

It wasn’t a lie. Frankie was more lenient than Tom was, allowing for extensions and lighter repercussions. There were more people willing to deal with late penalties than actually pay, and Will didn’t want this to get out of hand. He just wished Pope was here to tell Frankie himself.

“Fuck.”, Frankie snapped. “Maybe so, Will, but we’re not human traffickers! We don’t take people!”

“Steven has a big mouth. He’s not going to sit on this. He's going to run his mouth, looking for help to get her back. Words going to get out that you – YOU, Frankie – took his fucking sister. He’s not going to tell anyone that he put her down as collateral. He’s going to paint you as the asshole who took what he was owed. It’s good PR.”

Will sat back, hoping this would be enough to keep Frankie from losing his shit.

“So, we took some girl because this fucking skid couldn’t pay.”, Frankie spat out, clenching his fist. He raised his voice, yelling, “And my name gets dragged through the mud as the fucker who called for it?”

Will raised his hands, trying to calm him. “Your reputation as someone not willing to let debts go unpaid is solidified, Fish.”

Frankie sat back, aghast. His mind suddenly went to Steven’s sister.

“Did she know?”

Will looked down at his notebook, then up again. “I don’t think so. Pope messaged and said she was pretty shook up.”

Frankie let out a heavy sigh and put his head back in his hands. “What else did he say?”

Will hesitated with a smile on his face and waited for Frankie to look at him. “He said she’s hot.”

*****

You didn’t look out the window to see where you were headed. Sitting between the two men, you glanced over at Benny, seeing the small spatter of blood on his sleeves – your brother’s blood. A sick vindication warmed your cheeks, knowing he was at least bleeding for what he’d done, even if it wasn't specifically for what he’d done to you.

Benny noticed you looking at his hands, and he grinned.

“He pissed his pants.”, he chuckled. “Had the nerve to beg me not to hurt him.”

You nodded, eyes darting back to your own hands in your lap. While it gave you a moment of reprieve from the imminent doom creeping through your mind, it didn’t help the situation he put you in.

The car slowed to a stop and Pope opened the door, getting out.

“Benny, take her to the rec room. I’ll get Fish.”

Your blood ran cold. Fish, otherwise known as Big Fish, was the head of the Frontiersmen and it scared you shitless to know you were going to meet him.

Benny nudged you. “Come on, honey.”

You looked up at him, trembling, and nodded. Shakily taking his hand, he helped you out of the car. Grabbing your bag from the trunk, he put his hand on the small of your back and guided you inside the building.

“Shakin’ like a leaf, honey.”, he mused. “Just behave like a good girl and you got nothing to worry about.”

You nodded again, feeling your chin quiver. Behave like a good girl. What does that mean? Sudden realization washes over you in a cold sweat as to what payment they could want from you. Your breathing became ragged at the thought of what they would do to you, do to your body.

Benny opened a door to a rec room with some men playing darts, drinking, talking.

“Clear out, boys. Boss’s coming down.”, Benny boomed.

All eyes were on you now, and with a firm look from Benny, they began to leave, murmuring and hushed voices wondering who you were and what was going on.

“Didn’t ask for you to clear out slow, boys!”, he barked angrily, making you flinch. “Fuckin’ move!”

With that, the room was cleared almost instantly, and Benny led you to an armchair, guiding you to sit.

“You want anything, honey?”, he motioned to the fridge, walking towards it, looking at you with a warm smile.

You shook your head, keeping your eyes low.

“You sure? We got some soda, beer... “, he said, taking stock of what was in the fridge, then turning back to you. His face fell when he saw the thousand-yard stare in your eyes.

He tapped the fridge with his fingers, thinking. He didn’t like that you were being used like this. You were pretty and seemed sweet, and definitely didn’t deserve what your skid mark of a brother had done to you.

“Hey. Can you cook?”

You look over to him and nod slowly.

“What’s your specialty?”

“My… my what?”, you asked, shaking your head.

“What’s your go to recipe that you know you’re good at makin’, honey?”, he responded, closing the fridge and leaning against it, facing you.

“I… I make a pretty good lasagna.”

Benny’s grin was wide, and he nodded. “Perfect.”

*****

“What the fuck were you thinking?”, Frankie bellowed at Pope, slamming his fist down.

Both he and Will were seated at the table in the office while Frankie stood, reprimanding them.

“Fish… the guy’s a fucking junkie and he wasn’t going to be able to pay. Just took what we’re owed – what you’re owed!”, Pope tried to reason.

“I’m not owed a fucking person, Pope! You shoulda just let Benny break his legs or something.”

“Broken leg isn’t enough for his debt, Frank.”, Will said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “He owed way too much money. Broken leg, even legs, isn’t going to cut it. Needed to be bigger. Something to scare him and anyone else not paying shitless.”

Frankie held onto the back of his chair and shook his head angrily. “Why didn’t you ask? Why didn’t you fucking talk to me first?”

Before Will could try and reason with Frankie, Pope casually said with a smile, “Because I knew you would’ve balked at it. Would’ve said no.”

Will sighed and gave Pope a glare and Frankie looked at him, furious.

“So, you run this fucking show now?”, Frankie growled with his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the chair.

Pope’s smile fell and he raised his hands. “Not what I meant, Frankie. I just saw an opportunity for you to make a statement and – “

Frankie harshly threw the chair out of his way and stalked over to Pope, leaning over him and spoke in a terrifyingly low growl.

“You go around me one more fucking time, Santiago, I’ll cut your fucking hands off.”

He kept his face, full of contempt and fury, close to Pope’s, and Pope nodded at him, sweating under Frankie’s glare, knowing full well what he was capable of – cutting off limbs being one of those things.

“You, too.”, Frankie snarled as he stood up, pointing at Will. “Understood?”

They both nodded. Frankie’s loud voice and stature, wide shoulders and strong arms, already made him intimidating when he was mad, but with the added bulk he was carrying, he was downright terrifying.

“Yeah, un-understood.”, Pope stammered.

“What do you want us to do with her?”, Will asked quietly.

Frankie leaned back on the table; it groaned under his weight.

“You brought her here with no plan for her? What the fuck is wrong with – “

Will interjected quickly. “She could be useful… for you.”

“What?”, Frankie barked, standing up.

Pope knew where Will was going with and added with a dark grin. “She’s a fucking hottie, Fish. Could be useful.”

Frankie shook his head and looked at Will, ignoring Pope’s comment, and speaking in a harsh tone. What do you mean – useful for me?”

Will swallowed. “Maybe she’s got some skills, can be put to work. If Pope’s right and she’s cute, what’s the harm? Not like she could say no to you.”

Frankie thought for a moment. She could say no… and if he fucked her anyway, what did that say about him?

“Jesus, Will…”, he huffed, shaking his head. His eyes coldly looked up and met Will’s, and growled loudly, “The fuck is wrong with you? I expect that kind of shit from him, but not you.”

Frankie moved and stood right in front of Will, arms crossed and glaring down at him.

“That’s not what we do.”, he snarled lowly. “That’s what fucking Tom did.”

Will glanced at Pope before nodding at Frankie.

He held the glare with Will for a moment longer then looked between the two men.

“Where is she?”, he sighed.

“With Benny. In the rec room.”, Pope murmured.

Frankie rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, then motioned for Will get her.

*****

Benny had been trying his hardest to keep you calm and distracted with questions and musings for the last hour and a half. He was occasionally interrupted by one of the grunts – as he called them – wandering in to hang out, not having gotten the run down from any of the other guys that the rec room was closed, and Benny would chase them out.

“… so this guy’s got a wrench and I only got a plastic spoon, and he’s comin’ at me with it – “

Benny’s story is interrupted by the door opening. He turned to yell at whoever it was to get out but stopped when another tall, blond man walked into the room. He looked you over quickly and nodded his head to Benny.

Benny stood up and walked towards the man and speaking softly. As they spoke, you could only hear bits and pieces, but you were able to pick up was that this man’s name was probably Will and Benny told him you could cook.

Will held his hand up to shush Benny and walked towards you. He sat down in the armchair Benny previously occupied, while Benny stood to your other side, hands in his jean pockets.

Will let out a long sigh as he sat back, elbow on the armrest and chin on his fist. You could feel his eyes burning over you as you kept your own low and on his shoes.

“Benny says you can cook.”, his voice was cool and flat, with a slight lilt to it.

You nodded. “Yeah… yes. I can cook.” You tried to match at least his flat tone, but the fear Benny had spent the last while trying to quell had sunk its fang s back into you.

Will nodded and looked at Benny, nudging his head to let him know he could leave - he should leave.

Benny huffed a nervous breath and left the room. But he didn’t go far; you could see his shadow lingering under the door.

“Not gonna beat around the bush, honey. Boss doesn’t want you here, and frankly, neither do I.”, he said plainly with a hint of warmth.

While there was no malice in his voice, the smoldering anger in his eyes said otherwise. You nodded.

“But you’re here, and you say you can cook. Boss needs someone to cook for him since the last one was caught stealing and… went for a swim.”

“I can cook… wha-what does the boss like?”, you ignored his last statement and forced yourself to speak.

“Boss likes pretty girls.”, Will chuckled with a small smile, leaning forward and putting a hand on your knee. “Especially likes pretty girls that can be useful.”

You lowered your head and nodded, trying to hold back the full body shudder that was desperately trying to rip through you.

He watched you closely when he spoke, trying to get a reading on how easily you were intimidated. While he knew Frankie would more than likely act like you weren’t there, he couldn’t say the same for Pope or himself, let alone any of the other men, and until Frankie said you were off limits, you were fair game.

“Don’t be shy, honey. No one else here is gonna be.”, he said with a dark chuckle. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him and the menacing glare in his eyes glowed.

“Just behave like a good girl. You might make it out of here alive.”

*****

The Benny who had tried to console you was gone the moment you walked out of the rec room with Will. He was now cold and stoic, no emotion, and he was intimidating. Benny walked ahead of you and Will walked beside you, his arm around your waist and they led you down the hallway.

Benny turned and opened a door, walking in and standing to the side, remaining at the door as if to keep guard.

It was an office. At the far end was a floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the wall, looking out onto the pier, with a desk in front if it, facing you. Behind the desk was a large, high back swivel chair, and in front of it were four plush lounge chairs, arranged to face the desk. Along the sides of the office were shelves containing books, pictures, and other personal odds and ends. Everything was either wood or brass, unless it was upholstered; the room was dated and smelled like stale cigars, old wood, and another scent that took you a minute to place - pizza.

Will ushered you to sit in one of the centre chairs facing the desk and stood behind you with his hand on your shoulder, as if he thought you might try and escape – you’d given up on that idea back in your apartment.

There were a pair of footsteps approaching outside the door and your body stiffened; Will gave your shoulder a squeeze as the door opened. You kept your head low and forward, not daring to look at who came in, although you were sure you knew who it was.

Pope came and sat in the chair next to you and smiled. Will removed his hand and sat in the chair on your other side, and Benny stood behind you. Heavy footsteps moved between your and Will’s chairs, and then you saw him.

He was tall with broad shoulders, and was wearing fitted, faded jeans and a black and red bowling shirt. His crossed arms stretched the sleeves, and the desk creaked as he leaned back on it. You dared to look up at his face, and you were taken aback; instead of the steely blue stare you got from Benny or Will, or the dark, cold void that Pope had, you were met with big brown, warm eyes looking you over, and a soft face sporting patchy facial hair and mustache. His hair was dark brown and slicked back. Your eyes flicked down his large frame quickly and you noted how his buttons pulled across his ample stomach.

“Huh.”, he mused quietly as his eyes trailed over you more blatantly. His tongue flicked between his lips softly as if he were thinking.

“Pope was right. You’re cute.”, he huffed, putting a toothpick in his mouth. “I don’t have any fuckin’ use for cute.”

“She cooks.”, Will interjected.

Frankie’s eyes darted to Will and then back to you, and he looks you up and down again.

“Okay… so you cook.”, Frankie said with a hint of annoyance. “What else you got?”

Your eyes looked up to his face and you were met with his mouth pulled into a tight line and his eyes baring down on you; the intensity of his stare was almost too much. He raised a brow at you as if to say I asked you a question.

You looked back down at your hands, needing to break the connection your eye contact with him had made.

“I used to… used to work in an office. I can file, balance books… other administrative… things - ”

“Interesting… Tell me you’re thinking the same thing I am, Fish.”, Pope chuckled quietly. “A hot secretary.”

He turned his attention to you and his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers roving under your skirt and up closer to your crotch. His voice dropped into a honeyed tone, dripping in venom. “You ever fucked your boss, honey? You’ve got four now.”

You try to not make any movements, but the subtle way you shift screams your discomfort.

“Jesus, Pope. Stop.”, Benny huffed under his breath behind you.

Pope chuckled and gave your thigh a squeeze before removing his hand. Frankie’s stare didn’t leave you; he wanted to see how well you handled being the target of men’s overt advances and their groping. His narrowed eyes watched as you tried not to squirm or give a reaction to Santi’s hand or words, and he frowned.

The only sound in the room was the desk Frankie rested on creaking as he shifted his weight. He sighed deeply.

“Ben, get her a room set up in the barracks. Take her with you. I’m fuckin’ done looking at this.”, he grunted, motioning his hand aggressively in your direction.

“I can take her.”, Pope chimed in with a low and crooning voice. You could hear the grin in his voice and his eyes in you, and you wondered what changed from when he came to your apartment to now.

“Fuck off, Pope!”, Benny hissed.

“Hey!”, Frankie yelled angrily. “Pope, stay right the fuck where you are. Benny, get her out of here. Now!”

Benny’s hand quickly came around to your arm, tugging you out of the chair, and out of the room. The last glimpse of Frankie you got was watching him glare at you from his position against the desk.

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @noxturnalpascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #pedro pascal tummy #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#dark!frankie au #dark!frankie still chubby though #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #🥩

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swampstew · 10 months

Text

𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔭

Thank you @icy-spicy for enabling my sloppy, slutty thots. What if Eustass Kid took you saying 'just the tip' seriously? Enjoy the not-proofed mayhem below.

Warning: spicy content 18+ only; Eustass Kid x AFAB Reader; edging and slapping; penetration; creampie cause why not. WC: 744

Minors DNI.

“…you’re serious?!” you nod. “…Fine! Don’t you dare fuckin complain or beg for more cause I won’t break for you, brat!”

Eustass Captain Kid has not ever been known to actually follow through on such stupid requests. Just the tip? Are you fucking kidding? He’s got girth and length and you want him to ONLY give you the tip? Be careful what you wish for.

He has you naked and writhing under you in 5 minutes flat. He’s still dressed ofc. He’s taking his time and edging you on. He’s not pleased about your request and he’s making it abundantly clear. Pinching your nipples, hardly applying pressure with his thumb on your clit, thick fingers sliding up your slit but never pushing pass the entrance. Whines tumble from your lips and he ignores you.

You hear the sound of rustling clothes once he pulls back and you throb desperately. He laughs at you. Moving up your body, his engorged head prods at your lips demanding entrance. You comply and let him into your wet mouth. He lets out a pleased hum at the pleasure, allowing himself to be taken care of for a minute. He pops out of your mouth and with a sharp, stinging slap, his tip makes contact with your cheek. Laughing, he trails his body down yours. You can feel his cock pressing heavily between your tits – delivering similar strikes on your nipples as he did your cheek, dragging his cock down your belly, over your pelvis, and finally resting in between your lower lips.

Rubbing himself between your labia, your core flush against his veiny cock, he makes you suck his fingers while he ruts hits tip against your clit. Each motion shoots hot white pleasure through your body. Your hips try to keep up but he moves to pin your thighs down with his legs. Only he is allowed to stimulate you. The pressure he puts on your bundle of nerves is 10X the pressure he used with his thumb, leaving you gasping with tears running down your face. The heat builds up until you feel yourself release, the warmth spreading from your lower half down your legs as your muscles tighten, clit throbbing against his leaking tip. Your screaming is gagged by his fingers.

And he’s such an asshole that he does it three more times.

“Pl-please please put it in! I can’t take it! I neeeed your fat cock inside me!” you scream, a pathetic, whimpering mess. Just like he predicted.

“Nah. You said, ‘just the tip.’ And that’s all you’ll get,” he sneers, maroon lipstick smeared over his face, your face, your tits, your thighs and your pussy.

True to his word, that’s all you got. When you felt him push the angry red tip in your aching hole, you exhaled in relief as you expected the usual stretch of his girth to fill you up nice and deep. Until it didn’t. You could feel the thick, flared head stretch you open, feel the whole 2 inches of it sink into you until you felt the base of his shaft at your entrance, and then he pulled out.

“EUSTASS CAPTAIN K—!” your cry was cut short as he slapped the tip on your still throbbing clit.

“I told you not to complain!”

He thrusts in and out of you, angling himself upwards to hit your g-spot. Even with how little length he puts in you, he still manages to make your toes curl as he grinds into the spongy spot. Repeatedly. Never wavering from the spot and making you see them in your vision. Your screams, moans, and whimpers echo in the room as he makes you cum again and again.

You lost count of how many times you got off, you were nothing but a boneless pile of exhausted pleasure at his mercy. Barely brought back to the surface as Kid’s sweaty forehead plastered with his beautiful red hair is on yours, his breathing more than labored as he brings himself over the edge. Still only stimulating his tip, he uses your core to milk himself as he finally releases his pleasure with a low groan. It dribbles freely from your abused hole when he pulls out and lays on his back beside you with a tired sigh.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he quietly growled out besides you.

#eustass kid #swampstew bedtime stories #eustass kid smut #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x you #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew stories #swampstew #icy spicy

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sebsxphia · 4 months

Note

i have this thought of maybe, one time, after having sex, you casually mention to rhett how great it feels when he plays with your nipples when you two fuck and sometimes it feels like you could come from just that alone. and rhett, being rhett, takes that as a challenge. he starts pulling you onto his lap, kissing your neck, shoving his hands up your shirt, pulling and tugging at you until you’re grinding against his legs. or joining you in the shower and sidling up behind you, twisting your nipples until you’re whining and bracing yourself against the cold tiles. his favorite is when it’s barely light in the morning and he wakes you up by nibbling your nipples between his teeth. it takes him maybe a couple of weeks before you finally manage a quick orgasm from just him playing with your tits. you’re flushed and panting and he’s smirking up at you, nipple still in lodged between his lips, his hips are grinding against the mattress, and your hands are in his hair. ‘now we’re gettin’ somewhere, sweetheart…’ he rasps against your tit, ‘let’s try for a another one, yeah?’ and then he’s blowing over your chest and your back is arching up and your fingers are tightening in his hair and you know, with a delicious thrill, that rhett is nowhere near finished with you.

NO BECAUSE YOU’RE SO RIGHT DEAR ANON, LIKE SOOOOO RIGHT WITH THIS 🤤

rhett, being rhett, will do anything to pleasure his diamond cowgirl, whatever it may take, however long it may take. if he has to learn a new skill, if he has to research about it first, he will do anything, because god dammit (!) does he love seeing his diamond cowgirl crying and moaning his name, from his touch.

he knows that it will take some time to build up to that sensitivity, but that’s absolutely A okay with him! it means more occasions of him waking you up, or startling you with his icy cold hands from outside (he claims it’s good for stimulation), or lazy touches on the couch, just to keep working you up to that moment.

god and then the way you describe how the rest of it goes dear anon? poetry! chefs kiss! i am in love with you, him and this thot! thank you so much for this! 🥹💌

#💌you’ve got mail #rhett abbott #sebs masterlist

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giggly-squiggily · 11 months

Note

How about switches TodoBaku? Maybe Todo wants Bakugo to say he loves him but he won't go down without a fight!

Ooo, yes! I adore these two so much! I've gotcha covered, anon!

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

CW: Swearing

@myreygn, @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @nutsgunraylvt

“Hey,” Todoroki reached out, gaining Bakugou’s attention. “I love you.”

Immediately, the blonde’s face flushed a vivid shade of red. Eyes wide, he sputtered before twisting around, ducking into himself with his arms folded tightly over his chest.

“F-Fuck, IcyHot! Don’t just say shit like that without warning!” He growled, ears red as berries.

It was so endearing, watching Bakugou get flustered over the smallest gestures of affection. Originally, Todoroki was rather hurt by the response, but once he realized it was out of pure fluster, that confused hurt turned to pure devious enjoyment.

Leaning in, he prodded the blushing boy’s shoulder. “Hey, say it back.”

“Fuck off!”

“Say you love me, Katsuki.” He smiled a little smile, eyes dancing. “You said it before, remember?”

“Go away! I’m not saying shit!” Bakugou shrunk more, his entire face pink. The memory of the accidental slip up hung between them- Todoroki getting so mad at the Kimchi jar he threw it out a window, watching it explode open. The whole thing was so stupid it made Bakugou laugh hysterically, doubled over with tears of mirth in his eyes.

“Oohoho my god! I fucking love you, Shoto!”

Laughter got choked off, shock set in along with a fairly bright blush, and Todoroki had been craving those words ever since.

The problem was just getting Bakugou to say it!

“Should I throw another jar of Kimchi onto the pavement?” Todoroki asked, watching the way Bakuogu’s lips twitched. “I don’t think Mr. Aizawa would be happy if I did.”

“Don’t waste food, idiot.” Bakugou huffed, turning his head away when Todoroki went to peek. Opportunity was before him.

“Then say you love me.” Todoroki poked his ribs, grinning when Bakugou jumped, sucking in a breath. “I’ll throw a hundred jars of Kimchi out the window if that’s what it takes.”

“Gah- N-No! Stop that! Don’t fucking to-ouch me!” Bakugou squirmed at each poke, his lips wobbling into a smile as he tried blocking out the other’s hand with his arm. His face was still turned away though, making his aim off. Todoroki added a finger.

“Tell me you love me first.” Poke, poke poke.

“Fuuuhuhck you!”

“I love you. I think you’re great.”

“Shoohohoto!”

“I want to spend my days with you. I want to breathe the air you breathe.”

“That wahahahs stuuhuhhupid!” Bakugou let out a cross up of a genuine laugh and a tickle one, his hand slapping over his ribs protectively.

“Was it? I got it from one of those romance manga you read.” Todoroki teased, moving down to Bakugou’s hip, throwing all caution to the wind as he gave it a friendly squeeze. “I swear I remember you swooning over it at the time.”

“Shiihihihihihit!” Bakugou swore as he fell back into Todoroki’s chest, laughing helplessly as he tried prying his hand off his hip. Now that he had captured his target, Todoroki brought his other hand into the mix, drilling his fingers into the middle of his ribs. “Fuhuhuhuhuck ohohohohohoff, Iihihiihiihicy hoohoohoohohot!”

“Tell me that you love me.” Todoroki grinned, thinking of the tiktok Uraraka sent him the other day. “Tell me that I take your breath away.”

“Doohoohohohn’t fuhuhuhuhucking quote tihiiihiihktohoohohoks! Ahehahahahhaa, Ihiihihihcy hhoohoohohohohot!”

“It’s Icy Thot on Thursdays.”

“Shuhuhuhuuhhut uhuhuuhuuhp!”

“Just say you love me.” Todoroki teased, bringing both hands to Bakugou’s hips, making him arch with a squeal. “Then it’d be all over.”

“Nehehehehhehever!” Bakugou declared; his next move unpredictable. He shot his hands out, grabbing Todoroki’s thigh just above the knee. Then he squeezed.

“Ah!” Todoroki yelped, spasming. Bakugou took his chance.

Diving forward, he grabbed his boyfriend’s ankle, drilling into the socked sole. “Come on then, tell me you love me! Come on, say it!” Bakugou mimicked, laughing when the other shrieked, flailing behind him and kicking him with his free foot. “What’s wrong? Too shy, Hot Pocket?”

“GEHAHHAHAHHAHA! KAHAHAHAHAHAHTSUUHUHUHKI! AAHEHHAHAHHAHA, STHAHAHAHP THAHAHHAHAT!” Todoroki howled in mirth, tears blinding his vision as he tried to wrench his foot out of Bakugou’s tough grip. This was not how he planned it- not at all! Sitting up when he could, he tried grabbing the back of Bakugou’s shirt- his hair, anything to pull him off, but the other was adamant on tickling the snot out of him. “COOHOOHOHME OHOOHOHOHON, HAHAHHAVE MEHEHHERCY!”

“You wish!” Bakugou laughed, grinning over his shoulder.

Fine then- last resort it was.

Making his hand extra cold, he reached out and shoved it up Bakugou back, making the blonde squeal and fly off the bed. Unfortunately for Todoroki, his foot was still in his hold, meaning they both came crashing to the floor. He grabbed onto the sheets for security, but that proved only to be his downfall as they came down with him.

Blinded, breathless, with his pride beaten, Todoroki gasped for air as he heard Bakugou swear, looking for freedom in their trapped state. “If you fucking fart, I’ll kick your ass.” He heard him mumble, the thought was enough to send Todoroki into a fresh fit of laughter. Finally, the sheets were removed, light momentarily blinding him before Bakuogu’s head loomed over, a mild scowl on his face. “Asshole.”

“Pfft- gehahahahahhaha!” Todoroki couldn’t even form words, laughing too hard at the whole scenario. He covered his mouth as a snort escaped, squeezing his eyes shut as more came out. Bakugou’s scowl melted into a grin as he laughed, shoving the other gently.

“Hey, giggle box- you’re not hurt, are you?” He looked over his shoulder at their tangled limbs, nodding in satisfaction when he saw no injury. “Ugh, you’re such a dork, you know that?”

“Wohoohrth it.” Todoroki smiled, finally starting to calm down. Looking up at his boyfriend, he reached up, running a hand against his cheek. “I do love you. Truly.”

Bakugou blushed, but this time he didn’t look away or fuss. Instead, he sighed, leaning into his hand with a small grin. “I love you too, Icy Hot.”

Todoroki’s heart raced, but it was missing something. “Say it again.”

“So needy.” Bakugou shook his head with a snort. “Fine.” Leaning down, he got close enough that they were nose to nose. “I love you, Shoto.” He finished the statement with a kiss on the lips, so gentle it was like a feather. “Happy?”

Todoroki’s face was warm, as was his heart. He leaned up and kissed the other back, grinning at the shocked blush spreading over Bakugou’s face once more. “With you? Always.”

Thanks for reading!

Icy Thot joke credit to @/brownbakugou on tiktok! :D

#mha/bnha #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shōto #todobaku #tw: swearing #Bakugou's shy #but he won't admit it akjlrajerjajerajk #referencing tiktoks akjerjkaejrk #They're good for one another! :D

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firstofficerwiggles · 10 months

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Mirror sex with Sith!Obi Wan thots 😏😏

Imagine him growling, how beautiful you look for him, telling you to look at yourself being so beautiful for him.. 😍

Bestie, I love this idea so much and because I need plot with my porn I got way to into this idea complete with a bad boyfriend and a very understanding Sith Lord boss. Enjoy!!

Pairing: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi x female reader

Rating: Explicit/Mature 18+

Word count: ~3300 (Sith Obi-Wan demands adequate description of his prowess)

Warnings: SMUT! Besides being very, very smutty, this also has a warning of body issues and insults about physical appearance (not from Sith Obi-Wan though, he may be devilish, but he would never insult his sweetheart).

Note: Look for totally legitimate reasons, Sith Obi-Wan has a full length mirror in his office. He needs to look his absolute best before he struts down the Imperial hallways.

Lord Kenobi looks through the new transparisteel wall that divides his main office from the exterior one where you, his personal assistant, sit at your desk, toiling away through countless forms and files on his behalf. The remodel to the office was intended to let more light in the suite of rooms that make up his offices, but it comes with the bonus of allowing him to observe you more easily. It’s become his favorite pastime, sitting here and imagining what it would be like to have you in all the ways that he truly desires. You’re so beautiful, so captivating, and so submissive to him. You’re the best assistant he’s ever had. It thrills him the way you put so much effort into pleasing him.

This evening he watches you hard at work, your face with that adorable visage of concentration, your fingers moving deftly over your workscreen, your lips making that kissable pout as you reconsider a calculation, and the way they curl into a smile as you figure out the issue and resolve it. He watches you stand and stretch. He loves the way your uniform hugs your curves. He ogles your breasts as they strain against the fabric of your tight jacket. He’s about to call you into his office with some excuse just so he can talk to you, when your comm chirps signaling an incoming holo message. A blue image of a handsome lieutenant flashes up from the screen, making Lord Kenobi frown.

You look at the time in shock when the call from your boyfriend comes in. It’s late in the day, about an hour past when you had originally planned to leave.

“Hello, Tyler, I’m sorry, I know what you’re going to say, I just got caught up here,” you try to explain. You drop back into your chair to talk to him.

“I’ve been waiting here at the restaurant for over 15 minutes,” he remarks, his voice icy, “Did you forget we had plans? Did Lord Kenobi invent some reason to keep you after hours again?”

“No, I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize again, “It’s just that some last minute changes came in for Lord Kenobi’s budget and I needed to make sure all the numbers were correct right away. He didn’t even ask me to do it, I just wanted to get it done.”

“It’s always the same with you. Perfect Lord Kenobi is all important. I thought this time you’d make an exception, put me first for a change,” Tyler admonishes you, “You know how I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“What are you talking about, you just made the reservations yesterday,” you reply, “I didn’t think this was a special occasion.”

“What does it matter if it is a special occasion or not? You always chose him over me,” Tyler accuses.

“Tyler, Lord Kenobi is my boss, technically, he’s your boss too or have you forgotten?” you ask. You’re tired of this argument, tired of Tyler’s jealousy over Lord Kenobi and your work.

“Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean you need to simper and scrape for him the way you do. It’s sickening,” he tells you angrily, “It’s like you think if you can show him what a good girl you can be for him, he’ll deign to fuck you.”

You gasp in response to that statement.

“Tyler! Watch your mouth! He might hear you!” You should never have taken this call.

“You’re not even denying it this time, are you?!?” Tyler yells,

“Tyler, why are you being like this? I’m just a little late, if I leave right now, I can be there in about 10 minutes,” you try another tactic to try to defuse the situation.

But Tyler has worked himself up into a snit, “Just admit it already, that’s what you want isn’t it, to fuck your boss? Or have you already been screwing him behind my back?”

“Tyler, please don’t be like this,” you implore him, “You know I’ve been faithful to you.”

“Only because Lord Kenobi would never be interested in a nobody like you. You could drop your panties right in front of him and he’d turn up his nose in disgust. I’ve seen the women he fucks, they’re gorgeous. There’s no way someone as plain and ugly as you could even tempt him.” Tyler has gotten nasty now.

“Tyler, how can you say that to me?” Your voice shakes with emotion as hot tears spill over your cheeks.

“It’s the truth, I’m done with you, you’re pathetic, go snivel to your precious Lord Kenobi, ugly bitch,” Tyler gets in one more pot shot before cutting the transmission.

You’re crying harder now, shocked that Tyler could say something so awful to you. You know he’s been somewhat suspicious of Lord Kenobi for a while now, but you’ve always been able to set his mind at ease before. You’re sorry you ever admitted having a little crush on your superior officer, not that you ever dreamed something would come of it. You didn’t realize just how much Tyler had taken it to heart and let his jealousy grow. You’re scouring your purse for a tissue or something to dry your tears, when a soft linen handkerchief is held up in front of your face.

You look up to see the concerned face of your boss, and wordlessly you take the cloth from him. Your face is burning with shame and humiliation, knowing that he must have heard that entire argument. He steps away for a moment and you do your best to pull yourself together. When he comes back he’s brought you a steaming mug of tea.

“Drink this, sweetheart,” he says as he hands it to you. He leans against your desk, sitting on it somewhat, watching you.

You sip at the hot liquid, made exactly the way you like it.

“Th-thank you, sir,” you tell him, a bit awkwardly. You look down at your lap, too embarrassed to meet his eye and catch sight of the streaks of your mascara staining the pristine cloth bearing his monogram, “I’ve ruined your handkerchief.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear, I have plenty.” His voice is calm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” you apologize and try to explain, “Tyler had no right to say such things. I can’t believe he said that I- that you-”

You don’t know how you can finish that sentence without having to repeat Tyler’s terrible words.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you don’t have to explain,” Lord Kenobi tells you.

He’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but inside he’s smirking with glee. Lieutenant Tyler Clarret was the last roadblock he had in getting what he wants. The lieutenant had a right to be jealous, Obi-Wan had been trying to come between you and him. He did purposely keep you late at work many times, enjoying that he could spend extra time with you and have you all to himself. The corner of his mouth turns up; now, he can make his move.

“Lieutenant Clarret is wrong though, if you dropped your panties in front of me, I would be delighted,” he flirts with you.

You look surprised and then give him a wobbly smile, “You’ve got quite the sense of humor, sir, that cheered me up, thank you, a good joke.”

Obi-Wan reaches his hand out to caress your cheek. His fingers move down to capture your jaw and he tips your chin up so that you meet his eyes completely.

“I wasn’t joking, my dear, I would consider it quite the honor if you would deign to let me touch you,” he turns Tyler’s words around to his own devices, “Would you like me to touch you, my beautiful assistant?”

His smile is sly, teasing and flirtatious, and his voice is like honey, sweet and syrupy. You lean into his gentle hand, and for a moment you imagine he could be serious. But there’s no way he can be, you tell yourself.

“That’s kind of you to say, sir, but I know I’m not your type of woman,” you look away from him, pulling away from those teasing eyes. “But thank you for helping me feel better.”

“Look at me,” his voice is commanding but gentle, “You didn’t answer my question. Would you like me to touch you?”

You look back, meeting his eyes again. His gaze is piercing and intense, it fills you with heat, and before you can stop yourself you breathe out,

“Yes, yes, I want you to touch me.”

“Good, because I intend to,” he states, his voice deep and firm. He stands up and takes your hand, tugging lightly to help you to your feet. “Come with me.”

Lord Kenobi leads you into his office, closing the door behind him and pressing a button that turns the normally clear glass wall opaque. He steers you to stand in front of a full length mirror that hangs on the wall in his office. You’ve seen him primping at it before, making sure he looks impeccable before a meeting. Now though you’re staring at your own reflection. Your face is a bit puffy from crying, but otherwise it’s just regular old you, although with handsome Lord Kenobi standing behind you. He leans in, his face just above your shoulder, his lips at your ear.

“You said you weren’t my type of woman, but you’re wrong, look how beautiful you are, how exquisite.”

His hands trail down your body, caressing you while he opens your jacket and then pushes it from your shoulders. Underneath you have on a sleeveless silk top that is just a touch transparent, showing just a hint of your bra underneath. His large hands come up to cup your breasts, kneading them softly.

“I’m not though, I’m not beautiful like that,” you try to protest, but it’s hard with the way his hands are moving over you appreciatively.

“Yes, you are. You’re so enchanting. I love to look at you, it’s why I remodeled the office, just so I could appreciate your beauty all day long,” he whispers in your ear, low and intimate.

That news makes you gasp, “You did?”

He gives you a knowing smile and nods as you look at him in the mirror. You watch, captivated, as his lips caress your neck, kissing you before he slides your top off your body. A soft groan rumbles in his chest as he reveals your lace-clad breasts to his eyes.

“If I knew you were hiding sexy little things like this under your clothing, I would have taken them off you sooner,” Lord Kenobi tells you, his skillful fingers undoing your trousers next, “Let’s see if you have pretty little panties on to match.”

You thank the Maker that you do have on a very pretty set today. You had originally planned for Tyler to see them, but you’re so much happier to have Lord Kenobi be the one to have that pleasure.

Swiftly, he yanks away the rest of your uniform, not stopping until you're standing only in your underwear in the middle of his office.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” he drawls, “I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense about you not being my type of woman.”

Obi-Wan presses himself against you, letting you feel him, hard and hot against your backside. His hands flow over your body, groping at your curves. He takes his time, enjoying the view of your lingerie and appreciating every inch of skin he can reach. He turns your head away from the mirror but only so he can finally kiss your lips. His hands may be patient for now, but his mouth is demanding. His lips open yours so his tongue can plunge inside. He kisses you until you’re gasping for air, letting you breathe for only a moment before he’s back at it.

He stops kissing you and turns you back to look at your own reflection. Your lips are now slightly swollen from his kisses, your chest is heaving, and your eyes are glowing. You do feel beautiful, your eyes meet his through the glass and you smile at him.

“That’s my sweetheart,” he murmurs to you, “See how beautiful you look in my hands.”

Those hands move now to peel your bra from your body. They knead your breasts, lifting them up and molding them to his liking. His elegant fingers circle your nipples, brushing over them to tease them and make you moan. Then one of his hands travels downward, pushing into your panties. His finger glides into your wetness, exploring your most sensitive parts. He finds your clit, and applies the perfect pressure to it, circling around and then rubbing over the top. His other fingers have pushed the lace cup of your bra out of the way to free one breast and give him better access to your hardened nipple.

“L- Lord Kenobi,” you whimper, and then moan loudly as he pushes two long fingers deep inside you.

“I love the way you say my name,” he replies, his mouth on your neck again, this time biting and sucking.

His fingers curl up to find that soft spongy spot that makes your toes curl and you whimper for him again. His thumb strums at your clit now. A hot flame of pleasure is burning deep within you and with each pass of his talented fingers another moan spills from your lips. You watch the salacious scene playing out in front of you in the mirror. It makes you even wetter and you hear Lord Kenobi let out a lewd moan of his own.

“I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart, I need to have you,” he groans in your ear, “Tell me you want that.”

“I do,” you reassure him breathlessly.

Almost reluctantly he pulls his hand out of your panties so he can tug them down your legs and off you. With a wave of his hand your bra unfastens and you shrug it off quickly. He takes one long appreciative look at you and then yanks you to him roughly, your nude form pressed against his perfectly clothed one. He kisses you with such intensity it's as if you're being kissed for the first time, finally understanding how kissing was meant to be.

Your hands move over his starched jacket, and you sigh, “You’re wearing way too many clothes, I can hardly feel you.”

“I’m happy to remedy that for you, sweetheart,” he replies between kisses. But it’s only when you daringly cup him through his trousers that he pulls away from you with a growl and begins tearing at his clothes.

When he’s finally gloriously naked, you find yourself licking your lips as your eyes travel the length of his well toned chest, his sculpted abdominals, and down to finally rest on his very well-endowed cock.

“You’re even more handsome than I dreamed,” you sigh, tipping your head and staring as if you’ll never get your fill.

“So you have dreamed of me like this, hmm?” A devilishly playful smile adorns his face.

“I may have indulged in a fantasy or two,” you admit shyly, biting your lip.

“I want to hear about those sometime,” he says as he’s moving his large desk chair over in front of the mirror, “But for now, I would very much like to indulge in one of my favorite fantasies.”

He takes a seat on the chair, and gestures for you to come to him.

“I want you to sit in my lap facing the mirror, I don’t want you to miss a moment of seeing the pleasure I’m going to give you,” he instructs you.

You follow his lead, letting his hands guide you into position so that you’re straddling his lap, feet on the floor with your pussy hovering over where he wants it the most. He lifts his hips so that the head of his cock glides through your wetness and bumps up against your clit. You groan from his teasing and sway your hips chasing more of that wonderful feeling until his hand on your hip squeezes and you hold still.

“Watch the mirror, sweetheart, I want you to see the exact moment when I make you mine,” Lord Kenobi commands.

His hands tug you downward and you watch as his length disappears inside of you, stretching you open so much so that you wonder if you can take him. He feels incredible though and you know you want more. You take a deep breath and sink down further and gasp as he thrusts his hips upward to meet you. The motion makes him hit your g-spot so perfectly that you’re already seeing stars. As you’re fully seated, you feel him deep within you and you clench around him tightly.

Obi-Wan’s hands come up to cradle your breasts and he leans you back against his chest, your head tipped slightly to the side so you can both see your reflection in the mirror.

“Absolutely gorgeous, just as I knew we would be,” he says and then rolls his hips making you moan.

He keeps you like that for a bit, rolling his hips and letting you grind on him as his hands touch and tease you all over. His lips caress your neck and your ear as he whispers filthy compliments to you,

“This perfect cunt is all mine now, no other man will ever satisfy you like I can, no other man will even get to see this beautiful cunt, only me.”

His possessiveness should scare you, but it only makes you wetter for him and you circle your hips desperate for more.

“Move, sweetheart, ride me the way you need to,” he tells you, his hands coming back to hold your hips.

With his strong arms directing you, you rise and fall on him, getting into a good rhythm. When you’re gliding so fluidly above him, he shifts his hips following your movements so that he can fuck up into you each time as you move down. You watch the two of you in the mirror, positively entranced by the lewd dance you’ve created. You’re so wet that you can hear the slick sounds of your coupling. The combination of sight and sound only fuels your desire for him and that beautiful burn of pleasure is back, deep within your core.

“It’s so good, we look so good together,” you manage to tell him. You wish you could speak more eloquently right now but his cock is quickly chasing all thoughts from your brain. You ride him faster, your back arching as you chase your high.

“Are you ready to see yourself come, sweetheart?” He asks as his fingers find your clit again, roughly circling it and making you cry out.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the mirror, from the way his fingers dance over your body, to the hypnotic undulation of your hips, it’s so decadently lascivious. You see yourself start to tremble in your Sith Lord’s arms, and then it hits you, a climax so powerful that it consumes you in white hot heat. You see his lips make the word ‘beautiful’ in the mirror, but you can’t hear it over your keening cry of his name.

Obi-Wan keeps moving, fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt is pulsing around him, and he can’t hold back any longer. He pushes himself as far as he can inside you, spilling his seed deep and claiming you fully. He bites down on your neck as he comes, loving the way you cry out again for him.

“My lovely girl did so well for me, so utterly dazzling, so perfect,” he’s crooning praise to you as you slowly come back to yourself.

“My lord, that was so wonderful, and you were right, we look beautiful together, and I loved watching us,” you tell him, your eyes holding his golden gaze through the mirror.

His hands are still gently caressing you, appreciating every inch of your skin.

“I think you’ll find that I am always right,” he replies, “Now, just wait until you see the mirror over my bed.”

Thanks for reading! Definitely more Sith Obi-Wan to come 😈

Tag list: @boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @princessxkenobi @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @elinedjarin @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @startrekkingaroundasgard @onabouteverything @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings @mandoloriancookie @4rosydreams (p.s. I just tagged my whole tag list for this but if you want to be removed just let me know)

#sith!obi wan kenobi #sith obi wan kenobi #sith!obi wan kenobi x female reader #sith obi want kenobi x female reader #sith!obi wan kenobi x reader #sith obi wan kenobi x reader #sith!obi wan kenobi fanfiction #sith obi wan kenobi fanfiction #18+

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choiwonder · 1 year

Text

lowkey wanna go back to red mark theme…..

#idk he’s just so sexy #maybe ill do icy blue mark #thots!

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sofasoap · 10 months

Text

Love at first sight - 4

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Unintentional exposures. leading to embarrassments. Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5 ,Part 6,Epilogue

Warning: Mature rating. Talk about adult-ish stuff. A/N: Thanks to @kaplerrr helping me with Spanish words :) and @jynxmirage,@random-thot-generator,@okayyadriana for Rudy Thot thoughts.

My usual thanking @saltofmercury, mother of Mini, for lending me the character :) Please go and check out her fics!

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse

It’s been seven months. Seven months. Since the Taskforce left Mexico. Since you turned him down and left him.

Just as he was about to summon his courage up and confess to you (after a bit of nudge and push from his hermano ) you shot him down completely. The pain that you both felt that night. Heartbroken.

“It’s better we stay as friends.”

Does that mean you had feelings for him too? He kept asking himself after that night. The way you sank into his embrace as you cried, like it was the last thing you will ever feel in this world.

He can still feel your warmth from that night. The shape of your curve, the calming scent of you.

Night after night, the dreams he had, you running through the field, smiling at him, or welcoming him home after a long tiring day, with your children jumping up and down, demanding their papá’s attention.

And not so innocent ones. Your angelic voice whimpers as he slowly thrusts into you, or sweet mouth of yours wrapping around his hardened length, eagerly to please him.

Where he wakes up in the morning, alone in the bed, with a throbbing ache that cannot be soothed. Even standing under the icy cold showers for a long time.

Now he stands in his room, after a long hard training session, checking messages and scrolling through the contact list, finding the phone number of his cousin his mother wanted to get in touch with. That’s when he spotted your name.

His finger hovers over it. Itching to press the message or call button, wanting to check up on you. See how you are doing. Hearing your voice.

“But.. friends can still keep in touch right?”You didn’t decline his offer to stay in touch. But the look on your face says it all. You will prefer not to. Why prolong the pain of pinning for each other while we can just cut the connection out once for all, and move on?

Letting out a sigh, he threw his phone onto the bed. He should just go have a shower and calm his disarranged brain.

He started stripping himself off his uniform, throwing it all into the laundry basket, ready for the wash later that night.

That’s when he heard a scream coming out from his phone.

Rubbing your eyes as you finish writing the last bit of your report. You were exhausted. Drained. Self inflicted really. Anything to get your mind off about Mexico. Or Rudy.

Burning yourself out isn’t the way to go. Your professional side tells you. How many times you have scolded the boys, especially Simon when he is still up at 2 in the morning, sitting in the common room, drinking tea and staring into the dark of the night. Until you push him back into his room, threaten to dob him in with Price. Or even worse, getting Soap to whip his ass.

Gaz has been fussing about how the two of you haven’t had your regular catch up session anymore since you buried yourself into work. He had a fair idea of what was running through your mind, but knowing you, he knows it's better not to press for information. Him and Price drop in every now and then into the infirmary with your favourite coffee and biscuit, forcing you to take breaks.

Soap gives you a look when your body stiffens at the announcement of a possible mission with the Los Vaqueros, meaning time to head back to Mexico again. Your mind already running and listing all the plausible excuses you can dish out for not joining the mission, but you know they will be immediately declined. Maybe you can just hide in the infirmary. Or maybe you can just go hide in the mountain, going through the trails that Alejandro used to run around as a kid. Probably not a good idea.you will be charged as a deserter. Price will give you the whole “ I-am-disappointed-in-you.” Dad talk if you really go up to him and beg for it. And that is the last thing you want. To let your whole team down. Little shrilling tone interrupts you from your excuse making dreams.Blindly grabbing the phone sitting on the desk as you hearing it ringing, you press the receive button without looking at the caller first, That is when you see a very well toned butt and muscular thigh popped up on the screen.

You let out a very undignified scream. The unidentified caller quickly turned around and stared at their phone with horror in their face.

RUDY????

He screamed because you were screaming

"AH MIERDA, YO-.. Ay Dios Mío ayúdame, que vergüenza.."He let out a stream of curses and exclaims as he scrambled to pick the phone back up and tried to cover himself up with the blanket at the same time. Unfortunately that only made things worse. The phone proceeds to drop onto the ground, directly in between his feet, camera aiming right at his private part.

“RODOLFO PARRA!!! PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!!” You shrieked as you covered your face up, trying hard not to look at the phone screen. “I .. I am so sorry. Ahhh….” Grabbing what he can from the tall boy, he manages to pull out a t-shirt and pair of shorts. Quickly donning the clothes on,“Um, I , I am decent, you can open your eyes..” he stammered.

He can see you slowly lowering your hands from your eyes, clearly embarrassed and mortified from what you have seen. Never in his life does he want to throw himself off a cliff so much. Or maybe heading straight into a gunfire into a group of cartel probably will be a better situation to be than this.

You still stare at him with wide eyes, hand covering half of your face. Not saying a word. What are you thinking? It was a pure accident. He must have accidently pressed the call button when he threw the phones onto the bed. Talk about timing.

“So. Um, how are you?” He cringed.

“Could be better.” you admitted. He wondered. Were you missing him as well? Or were you making references to the incident that just happened.

“I am sorry. It was an. Ah. accident. I promise.” Rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting away, he couldn't apologise enough.

Shaking your head, you let out a little chuckle. “It’s ok. I believe you.” he can see you were ready to say something more when your attention turned to someone off screen.

“No.. No, I am fine. Um. yea I saw a bug. Shoo. Go.” Rolling your eyes as you try to wave the person offscreen out of the room.

“Sorry. That was Johnny. He heard my scream.” You pull your legs up, curling into the chair, making yourself comfortable as you turn your attention back to him. “Has something happened? Why did you call? How is Ale and the rest of the team? Your family?” you shot out all the questions in one go, worrying something has gone wrong, reason for the call.

“ Oh, no. I, it was a mistake, I must have pressed the wrong button when I put my phone down. I was about to go shower. Everyone is fine, my Mamá and sisters always ask about you.” he can feel his face and tip of his ears starting to heat up again. You pulled an apologetic smile as he mentioned about the family “I didn’t have time to thank them properly after that night… “ you trailed off, mind seems to wander. After a few seconds you caught yourself and shook your head, letting out a yawn. “I am sorry. I'm a bit tired. How rude of me.”

He looked at the time and mentally calculates the differences.

“ Isn’t it nearly midnight over there? I better let you go. Get some rest. Again I am sorry for the, um, unintended exposure.” Rudy apologises again. He hopes no one will ever find out about the awkward incident.

You laughed a little as you pressed your palm to your face, thinking back to the embarrassing moment. “ Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” His eyes softened. He misses your laugh. He missed that smile. He misses you so much.

He just can’t let you go. “Hey Mini.”

“Yes Rudy?” Just as you were about to hang up, he summoned up the courage. He is not going to shy away again.

“I miss you.”

He can see your flash of sadness in your eyes. Looking down, biting your lip before you close your eyes and opening them up again with a glint of tears, you reach to touch his face on the screen.

“I miss you too.”

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heliopauseentertainments · 1 year

Text

From The Claws Of Death

I saw an idea and, uh, this happened.

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Tarantulas/Prowl

Characters: Prowl & Tarantulas

Warnings: Necromancy, canon divergence, death mention

Summary: In which Prowl remembers dying, but almost nothing else.

Note: Inspired by @decepti-thots's post here.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic below cut

An explosion.

When Prowl died, he remembered an explosion.

Or rather, he remembered the sound of an explosion.

He hadn’t felt anything, not anything beyond the icy, agonizing burn of static simultaneously overwhelming all his sensors.

One of the last thoughts through his processor had been thinking how similar dying had felt to being born, onlining in a factory when every circuit fired up for the first time, confused and overcharged.

Every circuit flicking off again for the last time was identical.

Then came peace.

Relief.

Darkness.

An empty void.

A feeling of his formless consciousness being rushed off somewhere unknowable.

As his spark was conveyed through the void, up ahead voices, indistinct but familiar. Comrades, long dead. He knew them, instinctively.

Although this was, for now, a lonely journey, but there was a place of solace at the end of it. Even his own cynicism could only muster a weak argument. It was probably just final, illogical hallucinations of his processor shutting down.

Was that really so bad though?

Time no longer mattered. He had been here for seconds. He had been here for millions of years. It didn’t matter. It all felt the same in this nothingness between life and death.

Even that final explosion no longer mattered.

Lights, flashing and brilliant, beckoned as his spark approached the source of the voices.

The Afterspark.

He was nearly there, and then he would finally rest—

The roar of dangerous volumes of current overtook his audio processing as his consciousness jolted, tumbling into awareness. The voices were drowned out, silenced.

In an instant the cold void vanished, replaced by bright lights overhead and the agony of burning, overstimulated circuits channeling electricity.

It was like dying all over again only no peace, no relief, no comforting void followed the suffering. The dead couldn’t die, could they?

Birth then.

This was birth.

Prowl screamed.

Every hydraulic tensed from both the pain and the horror of once more having a body with which to scream, with which to suffer.

“Prowl!”

A voice called to him from nearby. His optics, sensitive and still calibrating, took in only a bright, blinding light.

He continued to scream, wordlessly, as his circuits slowly acclimated to the burden of being alive.

“Prowl, you’re back!”

A weight was thrown onto his chest, a chest he shouldn’t have even had. The pressure ached as he struggled in vain to throw the weight off, his limbs struggling to obey.

Prowl shouted, indistinctly, at the weight. His vocalizer wouldn’t form words, only howls.

Overcompensating for his struggling senses and lack of control, he threw himself and the weight sideways, plummeting off the edge of some surface and cascading in a heap to what was most likely the ground.

There was no clatter of metal, only the sting of cables and tubes being forcefully disconnected from his neck and back by the fall.

Arms, rough and round pulled him towards the strangely soft weight he had landed on.

An embrace.

Prowl pushed, sticking his arms out in front against that soft, furry form that was so intent on clinging to him. His hands slipped and scrabbled, like the fingers were tipped with claws.

His vocalizer finally managed to cooperate, having at last booted up with a cheery noise in his HUD, now barely visible over the blinding white.

“No!”

His optics refused to calibrate, his processor pounding from the unrelenting glare. Perhaps they were defective…. What utter hack had repaired him?

“Prowl, you’re back!” The voice called again, right in front him this time as their limbs tangled on the floor.

His plating felt wrong. Leathery and covered in… some downy filaments, like mesh drapery.

“No!” He squirmed in his struggle to escape the embrace. “Let go!”

“Oh! Your eyes!” the voice said, like they were entirely unconcerned with his terror and more like they had forgotten an appliance was plugged in unattended somewhere.

He was released, the shape underneath him wriggling away.

A soft series of clicks reverberated as the being moved elsewhere, he could hear it so distinctly, but why? His head turned to track the sounds even though he couldn’t see, further around than he ought to have been able to do.

The voice was familiar. He knew this person, but from where?

Another click and it was dark again. No, merely darker. The pain in his processor began to subside and the world, an alien world he didn’t belong in, began to take form.

Tiled floors, a tiled ceiling. Metal walls. A medical slab next to him. All grungy with some… dried substance that had dripped before coagulating.

Someone had repaired him. No, he had died. One couldn’t repair death. Right?

“Better?”

Yes, but Prowl said nothing as he sat on his knees… staring down at his repaired body.

No, new.

This body was entirely new… and the floor beneath was wet with unknown smears.

Purple.

Energon maybe.

His? Someone else’s? Usually there was a distinctive smell—or was there? He couldn’t… remember—but he found that he could hardly smell anything at all.

Long and flexible filaments hung from his plating—skin. Feathers? Pale and warm. Splotches of whatever was on the floor, on the walls, on the medical slab clung to his… feathers.

Feathers.

Cybertronians didn’t have feathers. Did they? The more he tried to think, the more the past prior to his death began to slip away, no longer at the forefront of his consciousness.

Bringing up his arms to examine, he saw that they were indeed clawed, built-in weapons… like a beast.

Prowl tried to access his statistical and simulation programs to no avail. None of the software and programming that he had used before was there, nor were most of his memories. Gaping voids of corrupted and lost data mocked him as he trolled through the databanks.

Nothing made sense.

“Prowl, I….”

He whipped his head around to look at the voice, at long last.

A purple and green being, many limbs emerging from their back, stared at him, hooked hands clasped together in… glee? It was hard to read their face. So many unblinking eyes, no obvious mouth.

He knew them.

But he was drawing a blank.

His formerly impressive selection of dossiers was now empty, wiped either by his brain module’s destruction or by his death… or perhaps by his rebirth. He had no idea.

He barely knew himself.

An incomplete name (“Prowl of …”), general function (“investigator”), a few last memories (“conflict, explosion”), but so much else was a haze. Did it matter? Maybe it did. Maybe not.

The being stared at him, expression inscrutable. Prowl didn’t understand what he was looking at. The uncertainty gnawed at his processor.

“I died,” he said, taking the opportunity to fill the silence while the weird being over there, presumably his “creator,” hesitated.

For whatever good that protest would do to him.

Dying had hurt but it had stopped and promised no further suffering.

This promised him nothing.

“Prowl, I brought you back.” They sounded… hopeful. Somehow.

The being crept closer.

“I died,” he repeated, trying to get to his feet, unfamiliar taloned limbs slipping against soiled tiling. “I died!”

“Prowl, please—“ The being grabbed him around the middle before he could escape, pulling him upright. “Please, I almost can’t believe it! You’re here! You’re really here!”

They buried their many-opticed face into the pillow feathers of his new chest, hoisting him up around the middle like a new-build’s favorite toy. He kicked his feet in the air, a weak attempt to regain his freedom.

“Who—What are you doing?” He shouted the questions, digging the claws on his fingers into the soft fur of the monster’s unnaturally fleshy shoulders. “Unhand me!”

“I can’t believe it worked,” the being continued, undeterred by the assault. “It worked! First, I lose Ostaros and then I… I couldn’t lose you too. All these years and all these failures and… and….”

The being began to dissolve into uncomfortable, wet, sticky sobs. From somewhere. Certainly not from any of those disgusting eyes—Ostaros?

Ostaros.

His memory banks pulled up a few damaged recollections as he hung limp in his captor’s grasp, exhausted.

A mostly naked endoskeleton, half-built and waiting to given the blessing of his creators.

Creators.

Prowl knew them.

The memories said he was one of them.

Who was the other?

His processor was able to find another name, another face.

Mesothulas.

They had made Ostaros together, but he couldn’t remember why.

Meso—Wait. He did know the monstrosity desperately hugging him. Somehow.

“Meso… thulas?” Prowl mumbled. The name didn’t match the picture in his memory banks, but there were a few similarities.

“Oh, Prowl!” Mesothulas clung to him like he would never let go. “You do remember!”

“… No, I….” Perhaps it would be better if he pretended that he did. Perhaps Mesothulas would lead him to clues, to piece together what was missing. This lunatic was his only link to finding out what had happened before his death… and why he had been denied his eternal peace. “Yes, yes, I remember. Of course, I remember, Mesothulas. How could I forget?”

Mesothulas made pathetic cooing noises against his chest, whatever liquid he was expressing from somewhere on his face soaking into Prowl’s brand new feathers.

Disgusting.

“You’re here. You’re here and we can go find Ostaros… bring him back, bring our son back… and be a family again!”

“Family….” He wasn’t sure what a “family” was and “son” didn’t make sense, but he would do best to not argue, not yet. His databanks tried to offer suggestions, prompting a query that Mesothulas must be his “mate,” whatever that was. There was a lot to catch up on. “That’s right.”

“You don’t know what I’ve gone through to bring you back.”

No, no, he hadn’t the slightest clue, but he was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t optical lubricant getting into his feathers, but more energon… from somewhere. Purple and thick, long separated from the person who had been using it.

As he looked down, optical rings focusing to a fine detail he wasn’t sure he had before, he noticed that Mesothulas was covered in energon and other grime. His “flesh” was torn and scorched in places, in need of mending. Was that from Prowl’s claws? No, these looked… old, ignored.

“Prowl… I have so much to show you. I was so lost with you.”

Well, he was here now. Might as well play along, at least until he had more information.

“… Me too.” Hm. “How… did you do it, Mesothulas?”

#fic #one shot #taraprowl #maccadam #idw1 #sotw #prowl #tarantulas #mesothulas

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