#like no like added up w the facts and actions

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #mwii #cod mwii #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #velvetures #velvetures writes #velvetures answers #cod #anon <3

[gumiluver]

Prompt 20 w geto? But the after math.. like yk, when reader keeps pushing his buttons after that 🤭 fem reader plsss

I’m feeling the vibes babe, let me give it a shot!! <3

prompt 20: “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

lover <3: suguru geto x afab!reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18–minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.1K

cw: smut, nsfw, pwp, afab!reader, handcuffs, slight degradation, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics

an: first request for my series special!! if you haven’t put in a request yet, they are still open! check out the guidelines here for more info :)

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: cckaisen on pinterest

You really were testing his patience.

From the second the two of you woke up until this very moment—you had been egging Suguru on just to pull away at the very last second. The long glances, the shameless touches, the coy laugh you throw at him when he lets out a frustrated groan, a visible tent starting to form through his sweats. It was all adding up on him where he could, quite literally, feel his rationality start to slowly slip through his fingers.

He doesn’t hide it either—in fact, he wants you to see what you’re doing to him. A part of him honestly hopes that when you see the dark stain of his precum fade into his sweats that you’ll finally break and bend to his will.

But of course you had…different plans, to say the least.

At first it was fun, getting pampered and dotted on by such a pretty little thing like you, his loving sweetheart. Feeling your nimble fingers play with his hair, his chest, his cock—of course it was going to drive him towards the point of breaking. Hell, a single touch from you at this point would probably get him to cum in his pants prematurely.

You knew what you were doing to him too—taunting the big beast with a supple treat, but right when he goes in for the kill you spring up, giving a lame excuse like shoko or gojo texting you about an emergency, and all he can do is watch as you flaunt your pretty ass to the other room with a small giggle and mischievous glance.

Such a tease.

Sure—he’s a patient man, but what you’re doing to him was just downright cruel. He can’t help but wonder how much longer you’ll play with your food, feeling his own composure slip every second you even look at him. And fuck—is that a new perfume you’re wearing today? It’s making his mind turn into mush; you’re making him turn into mush.

And yet again here you are, sittin’ pretty on your Sugu’s lap, straddling his toned waist as he rested his hands on your hips, gently rocking you to and fro—aching for more of your touch, for more of you.

“Fuck baby, need to fuck you,” he grunts, brows furrowed and veins bulging from his arms. He grits through his teeth, trying his best to restrain himself and his perverted desires of punishing you. Call him vindictive, but he’s just aching to give you a little taste of your own medicine—for his pleasure, of course. He smirks wickedly, a sinister thought coming to his mind as he quickly switches the position the two of you are in—figuratively and literally.

You yelp at his actions, the sudden change in demeanor making you feel as if you had whiplash. You feel Suguru press his clothed groin harder and faster against your pussy, as if he were trying to fuck you through his clothes. Times like these made him wish he had his friends six eyes ability, wanting to forever imprint the entirety of your pleasure filled body into his brain and see your energy build, and build, and build until you can’t do anything but release it—lost in your own desires.

You figured he’d caught on to your antics with the way he’s gripping your wrists tightly above your head, rendering you helpless to his mercy. Big doe eyes meet sharp primal ones, and like prey getting caught you feign innocence—playing with your food a bit more.

And he does not appreciate that one bit.

Suguru growls, diverting his gaze from your face by diving into the crook of your neck. He knows he’ll give in if he meets your gaze, ultimately a sucker for pleasing his pretty girl. Instead, he gives you gentle nips and licks that decorate your neck, and trails his lips to ghost over the shell of your ear, his daunting voice reverberating throughout your body “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

And of course, you just had to tempt the beast—per usual.

“Shhh baby, I know,” he coos at you, soothing the skin on your soft ass. Red marks adorn your glowing cheeks after taking him so well, and suguru can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt when he sees you cringe.

But then again, he wasn’t quite sure if that was a cringe of pain or pleasure—considering he’s got you stuffed full of his cock as you lay pitifully on top of him, and fuck did it make all the teasing worth it.

“S-sugu, I ca-*hic*-can’t…n-no more,” you cry, taking in his sharp and deep thrusts with a whimper and cry. Your wrists are cuffed behind your back, helpless to your lovers ministrations. The hand that was soothing your red ass moves slowly to the small of your back to press you further into him and sink you deeper onto his cock. The groan he lets out is ravenous, and he snickers at your yelp when you take him to the hilt, remaining composed as he ignores your pleas for mercy.

You really didn’t think he’d react so strongly to some teasing as simple as this, but seeing your usually stoic boyfriend become so primal and unhinged was a sight so sacred that it made you yield to him.

You—his little firecracker—were finally under his demand, and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip from his fingers. He’ll make sure to take his time and draw out each and every one of those mind-numbing orgasms that Suguru and only Suguru can pull out of you, wanting to imprint this memory into your mind and show you just how mean your sugu baby can be.

“Oh yes you can, and you will,” he growls, giving you another sharp thrust that has you yelping and clenching your jaw. He smoothes the arch of your back, calming your poor, aching body—a sinful balance of dominance and praise that makes you willingly croon and comply.

His other hand surprises you by coming up towards the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. Your wince tells Suguru that your feigning innocence again, because what good girl would clench their pussy so tightly when they get their hair pulled like a common slut?

“You dug your grave, and now you’ll lie in it, pretty girl. Take your punishment nicely, or I promise it’ll be worse.”

an: if you are interested in submitting a request, make sure to check out the guidelines for requesting!! <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #geto smut #Rosie’s 200 follower special #jjk geto smut #jjk geto suguru #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru smut #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you #geto x you #geto x you smut #jjk geto suguru smut #jjk getou #jjk getou suguru smut #suguru #suguru smut #geto scenarios #geto sama #jujutsu suguru #suguru smut jjk

[just-jordie-things]

ik you literally JUST reblogged this but i was online so 😭 kiss prompt 52 w megumi 🫣🫣 -🌿

YES and ur not the only one it appears i've opened the floodgates for smooches

52: Accidentally Witnessed Kiss

**aged up characters!!** ___

you and megumi are good at hiding your relationship. very good, in fact, you're quite surprised that your nosey friends haven't caught on yet. just last week nobara tried to set you up with a salesman at a boutique you frequented. sure, megumi was a little annoyed by the notion, but you claimed it was only a testament to how well you'd kept your relationship hidden.

and of course hiding it was the right thing to do. your friends, and your sensei, were a pestering group, and you both agreed you didn't need any added stressors in your life. your relationship was yours, and it was meant to be a form of relaxation. after taxing assignments and grueling training sessions, it was comforting to know you could sneak into each other's rooms and hide away in each other's presence, forgetting about the rest of the world as you enjoyed being wrapped up in each other's arms.

it had been nearly six months of this. the sneaking around, the hidden gifts and love letters, the subtle brushes of his knuckles against the back of your hand as you walked side by side but at a safe, platonic distance from one another. you often didn't even sit by one another during movie nights, or shared lunches. you were so damn good at hiding your development out of friendship that your friends didn't even know how well you got along, if at all.

they didn't know that the sound of megumi's giggles when you asked him if he'd love you if you were a worm was the cutest sound in the world to you. they didn't know that megumi had your favorite drink memorized to order it for you. they didn't know you kept a special necklace around your neck at all times, tucked under the collar of your uniform. it's closer to my heart that way, you'd said cheerily when megumi had put it on for you for the first time. they didn't know you were each other's first love, and you very much intended for it to be your only love.

but everything comes to an end at some point, and the secrecy among such a close group of individuals could only last so long.

you were sitting on the counter in the small kitchenette that was a shared space in the hall of dormitories. your laughter was stifled behind your hand as megumi dumped out the leftovers he'd planned on eating for a late night snack. he wasn't as amused as you were, grumbling as he reached into the cabinet to eat cup noodles, yet again.

"i told you that they wouldn't stay good for that long," you scold, although your voice is soft and your eyes hold nothing but adoration. "you should've had them yesterday"

"yesterday was the only day we could go on a proper date with no one wondering where we were," megumi reminds you.

it had been a rare occasion, yuuji and nobara were partnered up for an assignment for the evening, giving you both just enough time to go to dinner and rush back before anyone could notice your absence.

"would you have rathered we stay here instead?" megumi asks, expecting you to pout and admit that going out was worth it.

instead you sit up a little straighter, reaching your arms around his neck to draw him closer to you. sitting on the counter gave you enough of a height advantage that you could be eye to eye with him.

"maybe," you muse thoughtfully, still tugging him close until he's slotted in the space between your legs.

his palms are warm as they rest on your thighs, and he too slides you closer to the edge of the counter in an attempt to draw you near enough that there wasn't a centimeter of space between you both. you smile at the action, nudging your nose against his.

"i do quite like staying in, with you" you hum, lashes fluttering as your eyes travel from his lips up to his own hooded gaze. he's smiling rather lazily at you, amused by the sudden affection.

normally he'd banter with you a bit more, just enough to tease and annoy you, before giving into what you so obviously really wanted.

but it was almost two in the morning now, there was no chance of anyone being around at this hour, and your hands were just so warm at the nape of his neck that he craved the rest of your warmth.

so his executive decision to give in completely, closing the small space left between your lips and sealing them with a kiss that had you humming in delight. he could feel you smiling in your victory.

the microwave is beeping with his finished noodles, but you're both far too melted into one another to care about the ringing sound by that point. your hands are too busy messing up his hair, carding through the soft locks until their nearly falling flat from how much you teased them. his own hands are having a hard time staying firmly on your hips, as the hem of your shirt moves and your warm skin is literally right at his finger tips. his movements are calculated as he carefully works his palms over your skin. somehow his hands are hot to the touch and yet leave goosebumps in their wake as they slide from your hips, to the small of your back, to your hips again. his fingers are splayed out wide, wanting to feel as much of you as he could.

you're lost in time, lost in him, you have no idea how long it's been since he'd started kissing you, and you don't know how long it'll be until one of you realize you should probably stop, but you push the thought away. why you'd ever stop kissing megumi, you don't know.

but the answer provides itself in the sound of plastic clattering to the linoleum floor.

your lips are off each other with an exaggerated smack, but no other noise fills the room as you and megumi turn your heads to the sound, only to find yuuji standing in the entryway of the kitchenette. his eyes are unblinking, and wide, and there's a plastic spider-man cup rolling on the ground at his feet.

unfortunately, your shared shock leaves you so frozen, that there's no chance of explaining yourselves to the pink haired boy. megumi's hands are still clearly under your shirt, while your hands are in loose fists in his hair. both of your mouths are swollen, hanging open slightly, both to say something that wasn't coming to mind, and also to pant for air seeing as you'd been rather... occupied.

would he believe you if you said friends just make out sometimes? probably not.

"you- you're-" yuuji raises a shaky, pointing at you both to gesture to what he didn't know how to explain.

he felt like he just walked in on santa claus placing gifts under the christmas tree. or seen bigfoot dash between trees. or caught nobara's roots growing in. this was such an unbelievable sight, his brain was hardly processing.

"you're kissing!" it finally comes out, so loud it stirs you and megumi out of your compromising position.

he quickly removes his hands from under your shirt, tugging down the hem for good measure, and you're scooting back on the countertop to put as much space between you both as you could. anxiously, megumi's running his hands through his hair to make it look as untouched as possible. it was all in vain, your nervous movements to make it seem like yuuji hadn't caught anything, because he most certainly had.

"we- we were just-" you start, but look to megumi for help.

"yeah- we- i mean- nothing- well-" he tries to help you finish an excuse but you're both gaping at each other and shaking your heads, not knowing what you could say to make yuuji forget what he saw.

megumi sighs.

you give your friend a wince of a smile.

"any chance you won't tell everyone?"

yuuji simply shakes his head, his expression unwavering.

didn't think so, you thought.

"no one will believe you" megumi tries, but yuuji shrugs.

"i dunno. you have a hickey" yuuji replies, calmly, as though in a state of shock.

megumi's hand smacks over his neck before he's turning to glare at you. however, realizing there was no coming back from this, you burst into a fit of giggles, much to his dismay.

"a hickey?" he hisses in annoyance. "what are you, fifteen?"

"what!? you liked it!" you say through your giggles.

with your mini argument taking place, yuuji had plenty of time to race off towards the dorms to wake up nobara first. then they would certainly call their sensei to deliver the news. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi brainrot #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro #megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[coconutdays]

drunk

s. my attempt at a mutual pining ??? slowburn??? with the Honored One, Gojo. obviously there will be other parts hehe

w.c. 3.4k

w. fem! reader , gojo! x reader , fluff! , angst! , slowburn! , ( I think the slowburn is lowk angsty in my opinion) I also didn't really proofread this, did this as my day went. also y/n’a cursed technique is basically like Wanda from marvels abilities, thought it would be cool

You're restless.

The soft bedsheets encircling you do nothing to soothe your itchy skin. there's pillows thrown everywhere across your room in hopes that less pillows mean more sleep. Your legs and arms have been sprawled in different angles and directions to try and cater to your sleep, but it's all useless--your head won't let you get a wink of rest.

Your heart rate rises the moment you feel any sort of sleep try to overcome you. It beats furiously to take away your breath and forces you to jump up for relief before your eyes close for those oh so peaceful hours you yearn for.

It's annoying,

Like satoru gojo.

And there you feel that annoying flutter in your heart again.

This was not how he was supposed to keep you up at night.

no, what--

fuck fuck fuck fuck

You flip onto your stomach, fisting at the bedsheets and screaming into the mattress, your body movement similar to that of a fish out of water.

it came out of nowhere one day, that itch for him.

He had popped up during one of your missions, mid-battle, might you add. He was seated in a tree, watching you do your work, adding witty commentary on the fight every now and then while he mostly talked about his plans for dinner. Whether feta cheese would be healthier than greek yogurt or if squid really tasted different than octopus.

It was offensive to your opponent--a quite special grade curse--that Gojo never deemed it necessary to enter the confines of your shared arena and even further when you started responding back to your white haired friend.

"Why don't you just leave that up to your chef, Satoru."

Unbeknownst to you, you were listening to him not looking, he smirked when the sentence left your mouth.

"Yeah, but I feel like making the decisions over my palette today. Feeling frisky, y'know?"

He always says stuff like that, it's been one of his trademarks for as long as you've known him, but for some reason it had your face heating up as you pulverized your special grade out of existence with one closing of your fist.

You had turned around after the fact, trying your best in those milliseconds to get rid of that random feverish symptoms before he popped up behind you.

Lo and behold, he's right next to you before you can speak again.

He's wearing his uniform, along with his ever so interesting choice of headwear, his blindfold. He towers over you, effortlessly, with his hands in his pockets and that stupid light lipped smile he always has.

You almost want to take a step back when those mere details cause your heart to race. It's extremely off-putting to you when it happens.

"Or should I just tell my chef to go ahead and make that wagyu steak he set aside for me yesterday? It's supposed to taste divine with some wine." He cocks his head to side, smile growing a bit wider.

You give him half-assed eye roll, resorting to flicking his forehead when you respond, "Completely up to you Chosen On-."

He had grabbed you by the wrist of the arm you used to poke at him, lifting up over your head and towards him, pulling you a little to him in the aftermath of the action.

"But that's why I'm asking you." He fake sighs, "I'm asking my friend for advice."

You in return, actually sigh, "If you let go of me, I'll tell you what to eat."

You should've told him to eat-

stop.

why why why why why why why why why

You've known him for so long without this feeling grabbing and pulling at you. It's so bothersome when you're alone, the temptation to reach out to him and send him a text for a singular smidge of interaction with him is debilitating.

And it's a whole other beast when you can interact with him.

The god-strength you pull off to act as if you don't want to hold hands with him and listen to him talk all day is exhausting.

Because it has to fade away soon right?

When you get up after failing to get a satisfactory amount of sleep that morning, there's a text from your anti-melatonin on your phone.

Satoru

you want some croissants?

And before you can even think of a response, your doorbell rings.

Classic.

You run to the door as you hastily put on your robe, the pajamas underneath are not something you'd want him to see you in.

One peek through the peephole and you see his silky white hair standing up, it makes you open the door without hesitance.

"Oh, " He smirks, a brown fancy bag in hand, "who kept you up?"

Gojo is wearing at the moment one of his slutty long sleeves, the ones where his collarbones and shoulders make an appearance, along with those shaded in glasses of his.

This time you actually do give him a good roll of your eyes and chuck the bag out of his grasp, "Nobody. I just didn't sleep well."

He follows behind you as you walk into your apartment and to your dining table.

"That'll explain the eyes. Then why the skimpy pjs?"

You jump up a little, rushing to flatten your robe near your ass.

"How did you see?!"

"I didn't, just a little guess is all."

The urge to kick him in the shins seems more appealing than your everlasting urge to kiss him the moment he blabbers that.

You siphon two plates from your cupboards with a small movement of your hand and set them on the table, all with an annoyed look on your face.

"You can start eating, I'm going to change so my privacy isn't invaded by you again." You huff, stomping all the way to your bedroom.

"Won't start without ya." Satoru chides, leaning back in the chair he was in.

He did, in fact, see your ass peeking out from your robe, the little twirl you did after you took the bag from him lifted the skirt of it up a little. It was just enough to see a bit of lace clinging to your skin. It was a pretty color on you.

But he wanted to save you the embarrassment and stray away from the acknowledgment between the both of you that he's seen you like that, even if it was a smidge of-

You were naked.

Not directly in front of him, no, you'd never do that.

Your door was slightly ajar, but even though it was behind him, the mirror across from him and within his line of sight was all exposing of you.

You were topless, your back completely bare to him as you hauled up your jeans and buttoned them up.

He stopped breathing and felt something get stuck in his throat.

The entirety of skin felt like it was on fire, from his scalp to the pads of his toes. You should have completely closed your door. he can't help but stare until he drags his eyes away from the sight.

He won't even allow himself to touch the thoughts or feelings again, forcing himself to look out the window instead of through the mirror while he waits for you to change.

"What kind of croissants did you get?"

You're walking across the room and starting towards the seat next to him.

"Chocolate and pistachio." He exhales through a smile, as if he'd been thinking of something else before you asked him.

"But you like almond better." You cock your head to the side in curiosity as you start to open the bag. Chocolate and pistachio were only your favorites, and although he could eat them, you knew he loved his almond croissants.

"What can I say, I felt like switching it up today." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and laying his head on them before he took the croissant you were offering him.

You gulped down the bite you had just taken and proceeded to ask him another question.

"So what brought you to be near my place?"

You wish you could see beyond his glasses when he turns his head to you and shrugs, "Looking for buildings with adequate cursed spirits for my students. Thought I'd pass by and get breakfast with you on my way."

"Yeah thanks for the heads up." You grumble a little, a little smile and a shake of your head following up.

"Wanna come with?" He speaks through a mouthful of croissant

You start to snark a little, "Do my job without any pay? Sounds like-"

"I'll get you lunch from the onigiri place you said was only for special occasions and then dinner at the restaurant you said had entrees pricier than your electricity bill." He smiled

You blinked up at him, it being cute to him a fact that he chose to brush over by waving his card in front of you, "Being the Chosen One has its benefits."

Which is why you found yourself walking through Tokyo with Satoru the entire day.

You'll admit, you wanted to say yes even if there were no financial benefits to it. He was a benefit enough, time with him was, but it wasn't within your best interest of hiding your feelings to say yes without missing a beat.

On the other hand, it hurt a little, to know you'd be spending the entire day with someone who makes your heart flutter and your eyes unable of holding eye contact. It hurt more that you knew the time together with him would strengthen the feelings your heart held for him.

Fuck it though. At least you get to be with him today.

He let you walk a bit in front of him the moment the both of you left the apartment. It was his best bet of keeping his eyes on you, knowing you were there with him in the swarm of people as opposed to the alternative of receiving that reassurance through the warmth of your hand on his. His six eyes do prevent any mishaps either way, but the domesticity of it was calming for him.

But your back was to him.

It gave him flashback thoughts to this morning, your body practically bare to him, the underwear you had on leaving little to the imagination.

He had to force his heart to beat normally.

"Hey Satoru, that building over there has loads of cursed energy. Wanna check it out."

"Yeah." He smiles nonchalantly, making sure his eyes only look at the top of your head and nothing else.

Both of you don't even need to enter the building when you get in front of it. A simple lift of Satoru's shades and he smiles knowingly.

"Now that one's gonna be fun for Makki."

"Yea?"

"Absolutely." He confirms confidently, placing the frames over his eyes again.

After marking down the address of the building, the two of you proceeded to look around for more spots within the city. And not that either of you two knew, but Satoru was scaring off every male within a 20 feet radius during the time spent looking. His eyes were hidden by the specs perched on his nose, but the animosity of an aura he held towards any ogling eyes at you were enough to frighten them off.

He wasn't aware of it, if it weren't any obvious to him after doing it countless other times while hanging out with you. Had he been self aware, he would've muted that part of his feelings too. If any, it gave him more peace. He didn't know it gave him peace, but what he was sure of was that the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up if a guy came up to you.

You, on the other hand, couldn't really notice when you only cared about the guy walking right behind you. All other eyes were white noise to you.

To the eyes of those around you, the both of you looked like any other couple walking around Tokyo together. Satoru was never a step too far behind you and followed you as you walked without never looking back, as if you knew he'd never leave your side as you guided the path.

But you weren't a couple, you were just friends.

The former statement needing a reminder when dinner came around.

Your waiter had just taken down both of your orders at the dimly lit restaurant Satoru had mentioned in the morning. It was on the top floor of a skyscraper and the sun had just set, setting a slightly tense ambience for you--and Satoru, but he couldn't confront that thought for himself. Satoru was very good at remaining neutral for his own benefit.

"Ah and what wine will you and the missus be enjoying tonight?"

Oh

"Giacomo Conterno Monfortino please." Gojo smiled politely as he closed his menu and picked up yours to hand it to the waiter.

Right.

It was a simple mistake of an assumption from the waiter, it didn't need the attention of either of you. You had to tell yourself that.

"You like this place so far?" Satoru asks with a cocky smile, leaning forward and resting his head on his palm.

"It's beautiful." You say stifling a small smile, "worth all my hard work today."

For a second, Gojo takes a small second too long to respond to you. He seems stuck in a thought during that time before he acts like he normally does.

"Definitely. I could tell you were about to break out in a sweat when you checked if Zara had any cursed spirits in their clothes after my eyes said otherwise."

"Sometimes flukes happen. I thought you knew that." You raised your hands up in defense, winking at him in the process.

His breath hitched milliseconds within you doing that and he started to say something when-

"And here is your Giacomo Conterno Monfortino."

Your waiter had come around with the wine Gojo ordered, serving it in both of your glasses before leaving the bottle there for the both of you to serve yourselves again if necessary.

You took a sip immediately after the waiter left and gestured the glass at Satoru, "You should take a sip, it's really good. But what were you going to say?"

Satoru leaned back in his seat, making it look as classy as possible considering the status of the restaurant you were in, and cradled the glass to his chest.

"Nothing really. Just banter."

After taking two sips, Gojo didn't care to drink anymore. He called for a glass of water when your dishes came around. It was nothing new to you, he wasn't much of a drinker. Being the strongest meant never saving space for vulnerability and the inhibitions of the drink would subdue his abilities to being low quality.

You, however, had already been two glasses in by the time you had finished your small bowl of soup and started cutting your steak into bite sized pieces.

"Someone's hungry." A teasing voice poked at you

You looked up from your chewing on the steak while cutting up another piece to eat and made eye contact with bright blue irises, lips curving upwards beneath them.

"And drunk."

You sat up straight in your seat, having accidentally been hunched over to devour your food. Unfortunately the quick movement cause your head to spin a little.

You couldn't say you weren't drunk, when in fact you were.

"I didn't think it through when I served myself that second glass." You lightly groaned, looking at the ceiling because looking at the former would make the wine further bring you down. Satoru's eyes would make the dizziness worse and get rid of all your inhibitions.

You had to calm yourself down.

"Why didn't you stop me?" You tried to deadpan at him when you gathered enough courage to face him again.

Tried.

You did deadpan at him, but it felt as if someone dipped your face in flames the moment he kept the eye contact with you.

"I wasn't going to tell you what to do." He shrugged, haughtily putting a bite of his chicken into his mouth.

"Ass." You murmur as you sadly take another bite of your steak.

It didn't take much longer for that second glass of wine to hit you even further. Satoru had asked the waiter for some water for you too after expressing your distress for him not stopping you any sooner, so you weren't going to get any worse--too much. Both of you had been quiet, more so you, the alcohol had made you oddly focus on finishing your dinner, until the waiter brought around the dessert.

It was a shared bowl of some fancy peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream, two spoons on either sides for either of you to take.

"This is huge Toru."

"What?"

"This is huge. I don't know if I'll be able to even eat half. You were right about the steak being too much earlier." You pouted, gathering a spoonful of peach cobbler and ice cream to feed yourself before you looked at Satoru with the biggest doe eyes he's seen from you.

He stares at you while getting his own spoonful.

"I'll help you. And even if we don't finish we could probably ask to take it to go, they probably have small coolers for something like this."

"Yea and then they'll think we're dating or married or something. Like a couple saving it to eat together later."

"Come again?"

You were slouched in your seat, trying your best to keep eating. The alcohol obviously lowering your guard both physically and mentally.

"When the waiter called me missus." Your lips curving downwards

"It doesn't matter if they think we're dating." He reassures, concentrated on swirling around his piece of peach and ice cream too much "It's just to go."

There were no worries in finishing the peach cobbler and ice cream you soon found out. Gojo, although not drunk, ate the dessert as if he was intoxicated. You stared at him throughout all of it, admiring how cute he looked even though he shared the same appearance you did when you stress ate.

The only worry that existed after, was the walk to your apartment. You two were obviously safe, more so you, it was Satoru Gojo walking you home after all, but it didn't mean that the space between you two was.

You hugged his arm to you the moment you felt a slight gust of wind. An action you didn't overanalyze because you weren't really thinking much at all. You knew you had feelings for him, but he didn't and clinging onto his arm because you were cold wouldn't let him know that. At least drunk you was simple enough to think that way. Had sober you been here, she would have flung you away from him.

He hadn't done or said anything to let you know it bothered him the entire walk to your place. He was oddly calm, not to say that he never was, he was always calm, but witty about it. He wasn't being witty right now. He only really spoke to tell you to watch your step when needed and to answer your question on how much time there was left to get to your place.

When you got to your apartment, you easily swiped your key card on the door and unlocked it.

"Thank you, Satoru." You gave him a close lipped smile with sleepy eyes.

"It's what I'm here for." He answers without a thought, shrugging like its second nature to be this nonchalant.

"Yeah?"

The second Satoru looks back to you after letting his eyes wander to your lips, your eyes look different.

"What." He breathes.

You keep looking at him, as if you hadn't heard him. Your only response being your breathing.

He steps forward without knowing, subconsciously trying to close the space between you. It's when he's about to lean into you that you speak up again, taking a step back.

"I think it's time for me to sleep." You bite your lip awkwardly, looking between the wall behind him and his eyes because the thought of enduring his gaze on you for more than two seconds was agonizing.

"Right." He straightens up

"I'll see you later." Your eyes get watery from holding back a small yawn, "Have a good night Satoru."

"Sleep well y/n"

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo slowburn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo satoru x reader

[luxurychristmaspudding]

tommy's party (tommy's party pt. ii)

summary: you and frankie work things out. it just might be that actions speak louder than words.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. roommate!frankie, stoner!frankie and stoner!reader. mentions of drinking and smoking weed - they're still having a good time! friends to lovers, massive idiots in love, split pov, little bit of fluff, a whole lotta sexual tension and actual s*x this time. thighriding, m masturbation, unprotected p in v (wrap it, y'all), oral, creampie. use of pet names (good girl, baby, etc. (not platonic!))

song is tagged at end of fic - header does not represent reader, only the album!

wc: 12.3k

an: happy frankie friday, y'all <3

part i - you and your friends

Tasha leaves early the next morning. 

Frankie offers to make her coffee, but she politely declines, saying she should probably get home. He’s surprised at how quick and easy it is for her to cut her losses. He’s surprised at how little he cares about seeing her again. 

He’s surprised at how quickly all of last night is eaten up by thoughts of you.

You and how much you’d heard. You and how you’d left. You and where you’d gone. 

Frankie tries to keep his mind occupied as the hours tick by. He texts you again, just wanting to know if you’re safe, adding to the string of unanswered messages from the night before. He has a horrible, sour feeling that he’s upset you. And a deeper, nasty feeling that he can’t quite place. 

He hates the fact you have this hold over him, hates the fact that he felt nothing as he fucked Tasha last night, the fact that he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t moan your name. Hates the fact that when he shut his eyes he could only see you, only wanted to feel and hear you, and that it’s those thoughts that made him do it. The fact that you care so much you’d left the apartment, but not for the reasons he wants. 

His mood has soured so much by late morning that he wishes you won’t come home. He hopes he won’t have to see you, hopes he won’t have to talk to you until he solves the broiling mess swirling in his head. But it’s still bubbling when the front door opens and you step through it, in the same clothes you left in, hair wet and eyes tired.

Frankie’s stomach rolls as though he already knows, can already sense where you’ve been, who you were with.

You fix each other with a stare as you kick off your trainers and take off your hoodie. You hang it next to your jacket and turn to face Frankie at the kitchen counter. You hope he can tell you’re not wearing a bra. You hope he can see from there the bruises that are forming on your neck and collarbone from Benny last night. 

And this morning.

As you step into the kitchen, Frankie’s eyes sweep over you. The marks, the way you now avoid his gaze. You try to busy yourself with making coffee, but Frankie won’t move. Because now you’re this close, he can smell it. The faint, fresh scent of Benny’s body wash.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ He spits.

You purse your lips as though you’re trying not to smile, and Frankie feels himself drawing to his full height, incensed.

‘Benny’s.’ You say, and Frankie stares at you, hot and angry.

‘Benny’s?’ he asks, and you throw him a look.

‘Yes, Frankie. I was with Benny.’

Frankie’s jaw grinds, a hand flexing at his side.

‘What - what were you doing at -’

You turn to him, quick as a whip, a kind of disgust on your face.

‘What do you think we were doing, Frankie?’

You stare him down, heart beating hard in your chest, daring him. You’ve never been this angry with him, never felt the hot, heady lurch of it between you until now. But then he’s never hurt you like this, so deep and quick you didn’t even know what was happening until you’d washed his buddy from your skin this morning. 

Frankie’s nostrils flare as he looks down at you, face unreadable.

‘Knock it off.’ He seethes.

‘Knock what off, asshole?’

‘Whatever that is,’ he says, waving a hand over your shoulder. ‘Whatever that thing you have with Benny is.’

You sneer at him, stepping closer. He doesn’t move, just watches you with something molten in his eyes. 

‘Why do you want me to knock it off, Frankie? Hm?’

‘I don’t want you sleeping with my friends.’ 

His words sting, and you reel backwards as though he’s actually hit you. A well of something flourishes in your chest, at once cooling, at once stoking your anger. Your cheeks colour as you feel the embarrassment grow. Because he’s made it sound so out of proportion - he’s making this something it’s not.

‘What the fuck, Fish? What the fuck?’ You laugh, cruel and disbelieving. You turn from him, making your way back through the hallway. You shout over your shoulder, Frankie following you - ‘Seriously? You know if I hadn’t slept with your friend you wouldn’t be living here, right? You know you’d still be couch surfing, or living in some fucking bedsit somewhere -’

‘Fuck you -’

‘No, fuck you, asshole.’ You say, pulling your jacket on. ‘What is this really about, huh? You pissed off that I interrupted you last night? Or are you pissed off that I fucked Benny? Whatever kind of bullshit you’ve got going on here, it’s not gonna fly. And if it’s not something you can fix, you’re out.’

Frankie freezes. But you can’t stop, carried away now.

‘I’m - what?’

‘You’re out, y’hear me? You tell me to leave Benny alone again without giving me a good fuckin’ reason why, you’re out. Especially when I know who you had here last night.’

Frankie baulks at you. You laugh again, high pitched and thrilled as you stomp one of your boots on.

‘What, you really don’t think I know, Frankie? We work together. I’ve heard her laugh, and I know she gave you her number. So quit tryna be sly, too.’ You whirl around to him once you’ve stomped your last boot on and poke your finger in his face, chest heaving, the words barely scraping through your teeth.

‘And I’ve heard she’s a shit lay, baby. So congratu-fuckin’-lations. Enjoy.’

Frankie rocks as the door slams behind you. The silence left in the wake of the argument is deafening.

A prickling feeling works its way up Frankie’s torso, becoming hot as it floods his chest and neck. His breathing is shallow, his head swims. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dials the only number he can think of.

‘Are you free right now?’

—

When you return later that evening, a little drunk, the flat is dark and empty. 

You toe your boots off by the door, and stand in the shadows, breathing them in. Streetlight and stars slant through the living room and kitchen windows, and the door to Frankie’s room is firmly shut. There’s not a snore, not a rustle of bedclothes, not a whisper of music floating from beneath the door. The tears you’ve been fighting to keep at bay all night prick in your eyes, and you whistle a breath out through your mouth, blinking up at the ceiling. 

If he’s gone to Tasha’s, if that’s who he’s turned to, you think you might be sick.

If she’s what Frankie wants, you will leave. This home you’ve made doesn’t mean enough to just sit by and watch him fall in love with someone else. 

The sound shocks you so much you freeze in the hallway, standing in dazed silence just long enough to realise what you’d heard was your own crying. Your face is wet to the touch, and your hands travel down your throat, to the burning in your chest. Fuck. This had been a bad idea from the start. His curls at the party, the shy smiles. You knew. You had known then, and you’d still let it happen. You’d gotten yourself attached, even convinced yourself it could work, and now you stood in its smouldering ashes. 

You rush into your bedroom, the door banging behind you as you claw at your chest. It hurts. It hurts so much, and there's nothing you can do to fix it, to stop it. The only thing in the world which could mend it is probably in the arms of another woman, memorising her smile, the flecks of colour in her eyes, the lilt in her voice when she speaks -

You bundle your fists into your blanket and cry hoarsely into your pillow. It doesn’t help. It does nothing to dissolve this cataclysmic feeling of loving him, of understanding him, of wanting him and knowing you won’t have it. You wish you could feel less stupid, less angry. You wish you could feel less.

You don’t know when you stop crying, but you welcome it. You welcome the silence, the blur and spin. You welcome the crackle in your throat. And finally, you welcome sleep.

You awake with your face still buried in your pillow, your temples pounding. You pull yourself up from the bed, stripping off the day’s clothes with mechanical movements, dumping them in your laundry basket before pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. You dig around in your duvet for your phone, pulling it out to find it empty - not a single text, nothing from Frankie to tell you where he is, to say he’s left his keys again, to ask you to wait up for him. 

Your throat burns, and you rub your eyes, pissed off now at the crying, at still being upset when it's so obvious he doesn’t want you. 

Even after all you’d heard through the bedroom wall. 

You open your door to the still flat and head to the kitchen through the black. You take a glass from the top cupboard and fill it with water, and painkillers from the drawer to your left. You gulp both down and refill your glass before padding back down the hall. 

When you return to your room, you swaddle yourself in blankets again and turn on the TV. The apartment is too quiet without any noise from Frankie’s room, no indication that it’s not just you in here. You doze to the drone of whatever movie is playing, and some time after midnight you hear the swish of the front door opening, and the click of it slipping shut. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, clamouring in your ears as you strain for noise, for whispers, for the sound of someone else with him. 

But there is nothing but the dull thud of his boots on the floorboards, and then nothing above the sound of your TV. You clutch the softest part of the blanket you have tucked around you and pull it towards you to bury your face in it. When you inhale, it smells like Frankie. 

There is a soft rap at the door, and you cringe away from it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, can’t bear to hear him say whatever it is he wants to say, but you can’t bear to turn him away either. 

When Frankie gets no response, your door swings slowly open.

He stands there in the doorway, one hand on the handle, unsure whether to come in or not. That easy familiarity gone in the space of ten minutes. He’s still wearing his clothes from this morning, his cap pressed down firmly over his curls. His eyes take a moment to adjust before he spots you wrapped up in your bed, and he swallows.

‘Hey.’ He says, so softly that it makes your eyes water again.

‘Hey.’ You say back, voice muffled, cracking and heavy at the end.

As though he can’t stop himself, as though nothing could keep him from you, Frankie steps into the room. You blink up at him with red, wet eyes and damp cheeks.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ He asks, worried, coming to the side of the bed - like he’s forgotten, like he doesn't know - ‘What’s happened?’

You shake your head, try to turn your face away from him, the tears coming faster. He says your name gently, a little firmer, reaching with both hands to cup your cheeks.

‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you croak out. ‘I’m sorry.’ Before your throat seizes and you can’t say anymore, that burning in your chest returning.

‘Hey,’ Frankie coos again, lifting from his knees to join you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘What happened?’ he asks again, ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ you croak, ‘I’m just sorry. I hate fighting with you. I don’t know what that was this morning.’

Frankie squeezes you tighter but says nothing, and that scares you more. Maybe you’ve already said too much, maybe it’s already changed everything you’ve shared. The late nights and the lazy mornings, the meals, the conversations you’ve had at all hours, the beds you’ve shared. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you sob, everything catching up with you too quickly. What if you’ve done it? What if you’ve finally pushed him away like you should have done at the start? ‘I’m sorry, Frankie. Are we still friends? Please can we still be friends?’

‘Of course we’re still friends, hermosa.’ He says into your hair, his own voice tight. He angles his head down so his lips brush the top of your head at every word. ‘Of course we're still friends.’ He repeats, but whatever else he goes to say dies in his throat. You try to take deep breaths, try to muffle your crying.

‘God,’ you hiccup, ‘This is so stupid. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry -’ but when you pull away from his chest, Frankie quickly wipes his face with his hands, trying to smother the evidence of his own tears. ‘Frankie -’ you breathe.

‘No, no,’ he says, waving away your concern, ‘I’m fine. I just - I don’t like seeing you upset. Not over me. And - I’m sorry, too. I don’t know where that came from this morning -’ he takes a deep breath, and your heart swoops with a strange disappointment - ‘But I won’t do it again. It was a weird thing for me to do.’

You stay sat up, staring at him as his chin wobbles in the faint lamplight of your room. He looks at you again with big ol’ baby cow eyes, the ones you always giggle about but can’t bring yourself to now.

‘I keep thinking about what I said,’ he whispers, voice thick, ‘And I know it’s too late, but I want to take it all back. I hate it. I hate that I said it. You can see whoever you want - that’s none of my business. And - and I’d hate for you to think that I thought you were some kind of - I dunno - slut for sleeping with him. Because you’re not. I just -’ he swallows, ‘It’s so lame, it’s such a bad excuse. I got jealous. You’re my best friend, we live together. I don’t like the idea of Benny being that for you.’

It’s only as it hangs in the silence between you that Frankie realises just how bad of an excuse it is. How blatantly obvious of a lie, a half truth. You’re my best friend, we live together, and I think I’m in love with you. I don’t like the idea of Benny being something I’m not. I hate the idea of him having his hands on you, making you feel good, when that’s all I can think about. I got jealous because I want you. I want you to myself.

‘It’s only happened twice,’ you breathe, ‘Only twice, and he has never come close to the kind of person you’ve been for me.’

Frankie nods, looks away. He twists his hands in your blanket. He doesn’t want to hear you say it’s okay or I forgive you. He doesn't feel like he deserves it.

‘Did you see her tonight?’ You ask, and Frankie glances back at you. Your voice sounds foreign, too loud in the room.

‘Who?’ He asks.

‘Tasha.’ You whisper, ashamed at your transparency. Frankie stares at you before speaking.

‘I’ve been - I was with Santi.’

You nod, staring down at your hands. 

‘Okay.’

Frankie doesn’t ask you anything else. You don’t ask him, either. Instead, you lie back down, tucking your face into a pillow, unsure of what to do. There’s still a jealous little fire burning in your belly, something he won’t be able to fix overnight. But you don’t want to tell him about it. 

‘You can stay here, if you like,’ you say, voice small. ‘Like a sleepover.’

‘Are you sure?’ Frankie says. You nod.

‘’Course I’m sure.’

And Frankie doesn’t let you think anymore, just pulls you into him, still in his jeans. You breathe him in deeply, wrapping your arms around his waist, and that’s how you sleep. 

—

Tasha doesn't come round to yours again. In fact, Frankie doesn’t even mention her. You try not to think about it too much, and you hardly see her at work. When she greets you at changeover, she’s pretty sheepish, but doesn’t seem at all upset. 

At least that’s one bullet you’ve managed to dodge. If she’d been crying on your shoulder, demanding to know why he hadn’t called, it would have led to a long conversation about feelings you weren’t ready to have with a coworker.

Things settle back into their normal rhythm around the flat, and you almost forget about the fight and the half truths told between the two of you that night. Frankie brings you your favourite flowers and you keep the cupboards stocked with his favourite snacks. He picks you up from work when he’s home, and you cook dinner for him if you get in first. Some evenings you smoke together and watch a film or holler at him playing air guitar in the kitchen to Peach Pit. It's easy. It feels right. And you find yourself slipping into daydreams again.

On a rare Friday night when you’re not working, Frankie packs you up in his truck and you head round to Pope’s. 

Santi’s not keen on throwing the kind of parties Will does, so it takes a fair bit of bribery on his end to keep it to watching a film and sinking some beers with the boys. You’ve become a regular fixture, and tonight you spend it sunk into Frankie’s side, leant against him as the movie plays, listening to the rumble of his chest as he laughs, the bass as he says something to one of the other men. When the movie’s finished, you sit around and dissect it, each of you drinking more and more as though your directorial expertise will improve with alcohol. By the time the tequila is passed around, the five of you have largely lost the sense of the direction the conversation was going in.

Pope tells you you and Frankie can stay. You graciously accept his offer before Frankie can protest, and you wait to wave Benny and Will goodbye before Santi leads you upstairs.

He leads you both to a room along the hallway, opening the door and flicking the light on for you. A huge double bed sits in the middle of the space, and its pillows and duvets look so soft and welcoming you think you could actually cry. 

‘Pope,’ you breathe, ‘This is wonderful.’

He chuckles and rolls his eyes at you.

‘Yeah, yeah, too many beers for you,’ he says, and you swat his arm. ‘I’m gonna get you guys some water. I’ll be back up in a bit.’

The room is quiet again as Santi turns and treads down the hall. You turn to find Frankie stood close by.

‘Whaddya think?’ You ask him. He smiles softly at you through lowered lashes.

‘Looks good to me.’ He says, bending to press a kiss to your hair. You close your eyes and smile, scrunching your face a little. Frankie runs a finger under your chin, and you blink up at him. He is so pretty. ‘C’mon,’ he murmurs, ‘Get ready for bed.’

The two of you split off to other sides of the room, backs turned to each other. You pull your arms into your t-shirt so you can loop yourself out of your bra, undoing the clasp and pulling it out of your top before laying it on the floor. You unbutton your jeans and pull them off next, folding them neatly and using them to cover the lace you’d just stripped yourself of. 

‘I’m gonna get into bed.’ You say softly, giving Frankie the chance to cover himself or get in before you.

‘Go ahead.’ He says, and you turn to find him already tucked up, his jeans slung on the floor a couple of feet away. You gasp in mock horror.

‘Did you watch me?’ You say, slipping in beside him. He laughs. 

‘Only for like, the twelfth time since I moved in.’

You giggle, pressing your face into a pillow to hide your blush. Frankie watches you, his own eyes crinkled and warm.

‘Like what you see?’ You grin. A pretty pink flush spreads across Frankie’s cheeks.

‘Always, hermosa.’ He says.

The quiet moment that follows is only interrupted by Pope appearing in the doorway, carrying two glasses of water. He pauses at the threshold, laughing at the sight of you both tucked in together. 

‘’S like I’m babysitting.’ He chuckles, placing a glass on Frankie’s bedside table before coming round to set one on yours.

‘Are we your favourite children?’ You ask, looking up at him. He strokes your hair.

‘Aw, nena,’ he coos, ‘I don't have favourites.’ 

He laughs when you pout, moving away to grab the cushions from the chair by the window. ‘But,’ he continues, ‘I do have least favourites.’

Santi begins to place the cushions between you and Frankie, creating some kind of barrier. You watch him, confused. He moves to Frankie’s side of the bed to place the last one between your heads, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

‘And my least favourite,’ he says, running a thumb along Frankie’s cheek, ‘Is you.’ He whispers, bringing his thumb and finger to Frankie’s nipple, twisting it roughly. Frankie howls, almost leaping off the bed as Pope cackles at him, laughter tumbling from your lips before you can stop yourself.

‘Fuck you,’ Frankie pants, a smile splitting his face even as he still clutches his chest. ‘And what the fuck is this?’ He asks, gesturing to the cushions.

Santi begins to back away to the door.

‘It’s a pillow wall,’ he says, ‘To make sure you two don’t touch each other.’

‘Touch each other?’ Frankie asks. Pope mm-hms.

‘No touching. No funny business.’ 

You scoff at him, unable to help the chuckle that escapes. You look between Santi and Frankie, baffled, wanting to see your roommates reaction.

‘I’m on my best behaviour,’ Frankie laughs, ‘I always keep my hands to myself.’ 

Santi waves him off, turning in the doorway to face you both. He places a finger on the light switch.

‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’ He says to him, turning his face and playfully narrowing his eyes at you. Your arms come flying out from the covers, protesting your innocence.

‘What the fuck?!’ You cry. ‘It was just Benny, one time.’

Santi waits, raising an eyebrow. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

‘Okay, twice, but that does not mean - we are not going to fuck in your house.’

Santi points a finger at you.

‘In my house - interesting. That leaves other possibilities. I’ll ask you about that again tomorrow morning.’

‘Santiago -’ you hiss, but Santi has already flicked the room into darkness, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

‘Sweet dreams,’ he coos, ‘And no fucking.’

Frankie can’t help the disbelieving little chuckle which bubbles out of his throat, but when he turns his face from the ceiling to look at you, he finds you turned with your back to him.

The amusement is gone in a moment. He breathes your name.

‘You okay?’

‘M fine,’ you say, ‘Just gonna sleep. I’m tired.’ 

Frankie turns on his side to face you, trying to make you out in the low light.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ You say again, and he frowns.

‘Was it what Pope said about Be-’

‘No.’ 

Frankie reaches a hand over the cushions between you to touch your shoulder.

‘Hermosa,’ he says, pulling to turn you over. You go easily. ‘What is it?’

In the halflight, he can see you cringe. He waits, leaning over the cushions to see you properly.

‘Does it… isn’t it weird for you, to have the boys joke like that?’

He props himself up more, arms folded over the pillows.

‘Like what?’ He says.

‘Like… they know about Benny. And then they joke about you and me. I mean - if it makes you uncomfortable I can -’

Frankie shakes his head at you.

‘It’s never been weird,’ he murmurs, reaching out to take your hand. ‘Really. God, the jokes we’ve made over the years - we’re getting away with it lightly.’ He smiles at you, and you smile a little back.

‘Okay.’ You whisper. It’s quiet for a moment.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he murmurs, ‘That they think I could get with you,’ You frown at him, at the tinge of sadness in his eyes - wrong - ‘But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can tell them to stop.’

You look up to the ceiling, shaking your head. 

‘No,’ you breathe, ‘No, it’s okay. It’s - funny.’ 

What you want to say is that you like it. You like the way the boys have put you together, you like how you come as a pair. You like how the two of you fit.

Frankie moves to kick off the cushions between your legs and reaches to throw off the ones between your bodies and heads. He pulls the hand he was holding towards him so you’re as close as possible, and wraps his arms around you. You do the same. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says, breathing in your smell, feeling your warmth seep through the layers between you. ‘Get some sleep.’ 

You nod against him, clutching his t-shirt in your fists.

‘Okay. Night, Frankie.’

‘G’night, baby.’

In your dream, underneath it all, there is a deep, dark sense of panic.

Even as you chase your orgasm, even as you watch Frankie below you, covered in sweat, hands on your hips, blissed and fucked out, you have the sense that something is wrong. There is a noise pulling at the fibres of your dreamscape, and once you tug on it, it sucks you out of the darkness and into the halflight of Santi’s bedroom.

Your own moaning has woken you, along with the heavy breaths and quiet groans Frankie releases against your head. You rear back from him in horror, realising now what had been happening - the way you had been rutting against his leg in your sleep like a dog, the way you had been moaning, how wet you are -

‘Frankie -’ You begin, but you don’t even know what to say. Shame bursts hot and ripe through your gut. You can barely see him in the dusky room, can barely think through the fog of arousal. 

‘S’okay,’ he pants, hands scrabbling to find you. He takes ahold of your bare thighs. ‘C’mere,’ he says, and you move with him, willing, confused, on fire. ‘D’you wanna finish?’ He whispers.

Every sensible thought you’d had flees, and your mouth replies of its own accord.

‘Yes.’ You moan, feeling your pussy clench as he runs his fingers over your skin. 

It happens in such a fever that you don’t even process what’s happening until you’re already straddled across one of his thighs. Frankie pulls you firmly down onto the muscle and moves your hips so your swollen clit can graze against him. You moan so loudly at the contact that he cups a strong hand around your mouth.

‘Shh,’ he says, ‘Gotta be quiet. Be a good girl.’ Your moan is barely muffled as your eyes roll back. At his words, your hips begin to move of almost their own accord, delirious in your pleasure, his proximity. Frankie helps guide you steadily, pulling you back and forth over him, groaning and breathing deeply as he watches you, eyes molten in the shadows. 

‘So pretty, baby,’ he murmurs as you whine against him, hands scrabbling for purchase in his t-shirt, bunching it above his ribs. Your face burns, and you duck your head down to avoid his gaze. He halts your movements, a hand leaving your hip to touch beneath your chin. Gently, he pulls you back up to meet his gaze

‘Look at me, hermosa,’ he says, and you do, goosebumps flaring over your skin at the fire you find, the way he devours you, undresses you with his eyes. ‘That’s it.’ he groans, allowing you to move again.

You can feel your wetness seeping through your panties, your body jelly, surrendering control to him completely.

‘Frankie,’ you whisper, desperate, begging -

‘Not gonna fuck ya,’ He grits out, throwing his head back as he squeezes the flesh of your bare thighs. ‘Just want you to use me. Show me. Show me how you make yourself come, baby.’

You moan again, loudly, but he doesn't quieten you this time. He lets you grind down on him harder, faster, and you watch the muscles in his neck strain, watch the way his stomach tightens. You watch the way he fists his cock over his boxers, the way he fixes you with his burning eyes.

‘Can I?’ He chokes out, and it doesn’t even sound like him. Breaking, desperate. You nod, frantically, and he slips a hand beneath the material. You watch the way he moves his arm, can only imagine the way his cock looks, the girth you can just about see the outline of, the pearls of precum that would be leaking from the tip. You work yourself up and down his thigh faster, sweat dripping down your temples. He goads you on, murmuring praises, cooing at you, so pretty, so needy, so wet.

‘You gonna come, hermosa?’ He says, and you bite your lip as you whine, the knot so tight you think you might break. Your cunt pulses and clenches as you try to breathe through it, gather some control so you don’t wake up the whole house. ‘C’mon, baby,’ Frankie breathes under you, squeezing and twisting and pulling. ‘Be a good girl. Come for me.’

Your movements turn broken, jerky, as you come. Your blood roars in your ears as you let out a stream of moans and curses, whispers of his name. You can feel that you have soaked through to Frankie’s thigh, and in the moonlight you can see the trail of slick you’ve left. You whimper, your eyes flicking up to Frankie’s as he throws his head back, muscles straining, vein throbbing in his temple as he comes all over his hand in his boxers. You moan at the sight, the way he comes undone underneath you, the way he pants as he soaks in the sight of you a little longer.

Your head still fuzzy, he pulls you down into his arms, giving you no time to panic.

‘That’s it,’ he whispers, kissing your hair. ‘Go back to sleep. It’s all okay. Don’t worry about it. Let’s sleep.’ 

And as easily he had given his command, you shut your eyes, and succumb.

When Santi wakes you both for breakfast the next day, he says nothing about the cushions on the floor. He says nothing of the way you and Frankie avoid looking at each other, and pretends to be oblivious to the permanent blush on your cheeks. He pretends he doesn’t notice something has changed. And he lets you go home believing no one else could guess, either.

—

The flat is quiet for the rest of the week. 

It’s not like you're trying to avoid your roommate, but your schedules have worked out at opposite times, and there’s always something going on. You text each other so neither of you have to worry about where you are. Frankie out with the boys, you out with your friends, a regular’s birthday, a job interview for Frankie.

At the end of the week you finish your shift a little earlier than expected, stumbling through the door, exhausted, a little after eleven. You take a quick, blisteringly hot shower and pull on Frankie’s t-shirt which had gotten mixed up in your washing, a pair of boyshorts on underneath. You roll a joint cross-legged on your bed, Adventure Time humming away in the background, moving to open the window when you’re ready to smoke. You flick the lighter and the joint burns to life, the orange reflecting your face in the glass. 

The front door swoops open in the hallway, and you hear it shut. Hear Frankie go into his room, hear him throw a few things around before he exits and knocks on your door. He pushes it open in his pyjamas.

‘Hey.’ He says.

‘Hey.’ 

He closes the door behind him, coming to join you at the window. He presses a kiss to your temple, a hand on your shoulder as he takes the space next to you on the sill.

You offer him the joint silently. He takes it from you, pinches it between two fingers, takes a couple of draws, and hands it back. 

When you’ve finished sharing it, he turns Adventure Time off and plays Peach Pit through your speaker quietly before crawling into your bed. You stare at him for a moment, unsure, before he holds open the other side of the duvet for you. You come forward on heavy feet before bundling yourself down and snuggling into his side without thinking too hard. It’s pretty easy to do with your smoke-riddled brain.

‘Still friends?’ He rumbles into your hair. You squeeze him tighter.

‘’Course we are.’ You mumble back. 

You don’t get to the end of the first song before slipping into the depths of sleep.

---

The next morning, sun still burning off the nighttime clouds, a text buzzes through to both your phones at the same time.

Y’all coming to Tommy’s party tonight?

You groan at the sight of it, having completely forgotten about the promise you’d made to Will about going to his friend’s birthday party. You smush your face back into your pillow as Frankie kicks your door open, holding two mugs of coffee. 

He chuckles at your bedhead, and you sit up and take your cup, thanking him. Once he’s back beneath the duvet, you remind him about the party. He grumbles, sinking back down onto the mattress, leaving his coffee on your bedside table. You do the same, and he curls up into your side. 

The minutes tick by, warm and quiet. 

‘’M not going.’ You mumble.

‘What do you mean you’re not going?’ Frankie says, drawing his head up from where it’s lodged near your neck, speaking directly into your ear.

You pull a face and pinch your thumb and forefinger together, twisting them like a dial. 

‘Too loud, buddy.’ You say, and he relaxes, murmurs a sorry against your shoulder.

‘Too tired. Ain’t going,’ you say, stretching, ‘And you can’t make me.’

Frankie chuckles.

‘Alright, ya grump.’

You pull him by the forearm, bringing him in closer. He rests his head on your stomach, just below your breasts. He breathes you in, and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the silken feel of it. A small ache stretches in your heart. A wish that this be the way every day starts. A small ache over the fact that, even after everything at Santi’s, nothing seems to have changed that much. Nothing has granted that wish.

You get split off from Frankie pretty quick at Tommy’s party. 

He’s not worried about it - he’s used to it. Even despite your protests this morning, he knew you’d be charming your way around the house as soon as you walked through the door. He stands with Pope in the kitchen, a couple beers deep, catching glimpses of you in the hallway making a group of girls laugh.

‘So it’s happened, then?’ Pope says.

Frankie shoots his eyes back to him and cocks his head.

‘What?’ he asks. Pope frowns.

‘You two,’ he says, gesturing towards you with his bottle. ‘You’ve finally, y’know, explored your feelings for each other.’

Frankie’s jaw drops.

‘We - what?’

Santi pulls a face at him.

‘Frankie, it’s okay. It’s fuckin’ obvious to all of us. Even to Benny. You don’t have to dance around it anymore -’ But Frankie is still staring at him, open mouthed, stunned. Realisation folds Santi’s features. ‘Jesus Christ.’ He whispers.

He grabs Frankie’s elbow and hauls him into the pantry, shutting the door behind them. 

‘What are you talking about, Pope -’ Frankie rushes out.

‘Nothing’s happened between you two?’ The man asks, fixing Frankie with his eyes. He squirms.

‘Only one thing,’ he says, ‘But nothing serious. It’s not like we’re in love or anything -’

‘You seriously -’ Pope breaks off, looking around the cupboard, exasperated. ‘Really?’

Frankie frowns at him, barely getting out a yeah- before Santi groans, face in his hands.

He takes Frankie by the shoulders, and shakes him, hard.

‘Are you in love with her, yes or no?’ 

Frankie swallows.

‘Yes.’ 

‘Okay, good. And she’s clearly got it bad for you, Fi-’

‘She doesn’t, Pope, c’mon man -’

Pope grunts at him, knocking his head against Frankie’s shoulder.

‘Stop it,’ he says. ‘I can’t do this, Fish. It’s impossible. You two need to have a conversation. I thought Benny was slow,’ he says, shaking his head, ‘But you… Jesus Christ. Go on, get lost. Go and find her.’

Pope takes him by the shoulders again, pushing him out the pantry.

Frankie stumbles into the kitchen, sets his beer down in a daze. And without quite knowing why, he sets off to find you.

You’re close to the same spot you were in last time he saw you, but sat on the bottom step of the stairs instead, making friends with the pretty, dark-haired girl sat next to you. Frankie leans against the bannister awkwardly and clears his throat. When you look up, your eyes go wide, delighted.

‘Hey sugar,’ you say, reaching out to grab his hand. You turn to the girl beside you, and say - ‘This is Frankie,’ like you’ve been telling her about him. ‘Frankie, this is Sakura.’

Frankie nods tightly to the girl, and she smiles brightly back at him. To his surprise, she stands and slips past him. 

‘I’ll leave you guys to chat,’ she says, winking at you. ‘Catch you later.’

Frankie looks back at you, questioningly. You shrug.

‘Everything okay?’ You ask. Frankie squeezes your hand.

‘Can we talk?’

Frankie leads you into the bedroom furthest away from the top of the staircase, and locks the door. You sit down on the edge of the mattress as he turns the bedside lamp on, bathing the room in a sweet, pink-orange glow.

‘What d’you wanna talk about, baby?’ You ask, laying back and closing your eyes. Frankie can feel himself panicking, can feel the walls getting a little closer. Why was he doing this? 

He closes his eyes for a moment. 

‘I’m gettin’ to it.’ He says, and you hum, lips quirking a little.

The room is quiet for far too long. It’s warm, and the sounds of the party are muffled, close. The bass slinking through the floorboards, the chatter - it’s not unlike the night you met.

Frankie pinches the inside of his arm, trying to will himself to think of something, to say something, but -

‘We should fuck. Like, actually fuck.’

Your eyes are still closed when you say it, and you miss the way Frankie’s jaw falls slack, the way the muscle in his cheek ticks when he wrenches it shut. Frankie watches you, serene, laid out on the bed like an angel. He swallows.

‘You’re drunk.’ He says, soft but firm. He tries to lean against the wall in an unfazed way, and slips a hand into his pocket to will his cock to stop twitching.

‘I’m not drunk,’ you pout, eyes still closed. ‘Unfair how you always think I’m drunk off a few beers. Did you ever think I might just be having a good time?’

Frankie shifts his weight and watches your face; tries to ignore how fast, how hard his heart is beating.

‘Sure. But you’ve had a few beers tonight.’

You crack an eye open at him, a devastating grin growing across your lips.

‘So?’ You purr, ‘Still not drunk.’

Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose, his control of the situation slipping, his mind clamouring at your suggestion. He tries to look away, anywhere around the room, chest pounding. The desk, the wardrobe, the fireplace, the cupboard. But he can’t. His eyes are glued to your body, the way your feet dangle just off the floor, your bare legs, the bunched up skirt which only just covers your thighs. He tries not to let his mind linger on what he can and can’t see in the low light, instead letting his eyes travel to the curve of your hips, the soft swell of your belly, your tits, your glistening neck, your hair splayed out over the duvet, your arms stretching up above your head. Your wanton smile.

‘You don’t mean it. You’d regret it in the morning.’

You suck a breath in through your teeth and open your other eye, rolling them up to the ceiling. You arch your back like a cat, and Frankie barely contains a moan at the stretch, your skirt climbing higher, a slither of skin exposed on your midriff. Your grin fades, a pained little smirk. You swipe a hand over your face. 

Frankie waits. Your eyes slide to his again.

‘I wouldn’t.’ You say. 

Frankie shakes his head.

‘You would.’

You sit up suddenly, hands gripping the sheets.

‘I wouldn’t, Frankie.’ Your eyes are fierce, burning. Frankie swallows.

You duck your head to look at your toes, swinging them just above the carpet.

‘I’ve thought about it a lot,’ you say softly.

Frankie’s mouth goes dry. He tries to work some moisture into his throat to make some kind of noise, something to convey his surprise, but he’s frozen in place. His heart drops to the floor and then picks up at a pace that he can feel hammering in his neck. 

‘Long before that night at Pope’s. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the walls in our apartment are pretty thin.’ You look up at him through your eyelashes, all darkness and mischief. You bite your lip as you wait for the penny to drop.

Fuck. Fuck.

Frankie’s mouth works open as his stomach swoops, knees loose and heavy. His hands are unbearably clammy in his pockets. He brings them to his front, crossing his thick arms over his pounding chest. He says your name quietly.

‘’S’okay,’ you whisper. And then you giggle, face briefly turned to the ceiling, slightly more illuminated. You are so beautiful. 

‘I heard you,’ you murmur, and Frankie wants to beg you to stop, to not say what you’re about to say. He’d rather drop dead. He’d rather leave this house and walk forever if it meant he didn’t have to hear how you’d listened to him moan your name through the drywall. But he can’t. He can only look at you with wide, brown eyes, and hope you’ll grant him this small mercy. 

You cock your head at him, furrowing your brow, looking at him shyly.  

‘Did you really want me, Frankie?’

He’s going to pass out. His blood roars through his ears, straight down to his cock. Frankie can only nod, try and breathe out a yes.

You smile a little, trailing a couple of fingers up your thighs.

‘Did you ever hear me?’ You ask him. His breath catches in his throat.

‘Hear you?’ He whispers.

‘Yeah,’ you breathe. ‘Did you ever hear me, baby?’

Frankie’s throat works as he stares at you. He thinks of the gasps and whimpers he’s heard, the groans and breathy curses. The high pitched noises you breathe out when someone or something fucks into you, your moans when you’re getting close. Your wet body in the shower, the shake of your legs, the grip you had on your own breast, your head thrown back in ecstasy -

Yeah, he’s heard you. But he’s not sure if that's what you’re really asking.

He nods, and you smile, all feline and pleased.

You lower your feet to the floor, and stand from the bed. You pad towards him, every muscle in his body wound impossibly tight. 

‘Did you hear me say your name?’ You ask, your breath fanning against his chin. Frankie fights to keep his arms crossed, to not reach out and touch you. He fixes his gaze on an eyelash cradled on your cheek.

‘My name?’ He croaks. He’s fighting a losing battle, his hard cock betraying him in his jeans.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you whisper, ‘I could never think of anyone else.’ 

Your confession hangs in the air between you, and to gauge its truth, Frankie’s eyes dart up to meet yours. His resolve crumbles immediately. You stare up at him, eyes big and wide and clear. The realisation is crushing - not drunk, not high, honest and wanting and hopeful -

Frankie’s hands drop to his sides, twitching to reach for you, grab your tiny skirt in both fists, hold to your thighs -

‘Can I kiss you?’ You murmur against his jaw.

‘Please.’ He whimpers.

Your hands make their slow journey from your sides to his stomach, and Frankie flinches at the contact. You pause, looking up at him. He swallows and nods, and you continue. You push both palms over his stomach, over his chest, resting them on his shoulders. You admire every plane of his body, even through clothes, before reaching up on your tiptoes, wrapping both your hands around the nape of his neck, tangling them in the curls there.

Frankie breathes heavily, watching you, eyes tracking all over your face as you go. He traces every freckle, every mole. Each colour in your eyes, the shape of your nose, the bow of your lips. He lets his hands drift towards you, lets both of them rest on your hips to pull you closer, squeezing your soft flesh before bringing one up to cup your cheek. He inclines his head, and your eyes flutter shut.

The first meeting of your lips is soft. It’s warm and gentle and everything you had wanted it to be. It should have been the quiet kiss you had over coffee in the morning, the kind of kiss you shared after a first date. But here, it’s perfect. 

Frankie brushes his thumb over your cheek before dipping his hand lower, hinging your jaw to open your mouth to him. He licks your bottom lip and you grant him access, moaning into the kiss. His grip on your hip tightens.

The movement of your mouths is slow, languid. There is no rush. Just gentle pressure, acknowledgement as it all falls into place. The feeling that this is what the two of you were made for. This is what you’ve avoided for too long. 

Frankie’s tongue swipes against yours, and you tug on his hair. He groans into your mouth, the hand on your jaw dropping to your waist, pulling you closer. 

You press your chest against him, kiss him back harder, slipping a hand down past his shoulder to scrape at the skin under his t-shirt. Frankie shudders against you, the hand on your hip moving to grab a handful of your ass, the one on your waist inching up to your breast. You breathe against his lips as he feels you, moaning as he palms you over your top, as your nipples tense, flicking one with his thumb. 

He nips and kisses at your jaw as your hands travel back to his chest, one catching on his belt, stroking his hip as you whine, your whole body warm and sensitive. You step closer to him again as he drops the hand on your ass, bringing it to cradle the back of your neck as he continues to work on your jaw, your tits. 

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and he returns his mouth to yours for a slow, deep kiss. He bites your bottom lip as you pull away to slip a hand lower to palm him through his jeans. He’s so hard already, you can feel him straining against the zipper, and it seems to match the dry heat you feel for him, something which burns its way down your throat and straight to your cunt. It aches, and your lace beneath your skirt is so wet that the only thing you want to do is take them off. 

Frankie groans loudly against you, both hands coming to cup your face so he can kiss your forehead slowly, tenderly.

He pulls your face back so he can look you in the eye. The intensity there stops your movements, stills your hands.

‘I love you.’ He says. 

The noise from the party below fades to an almost nothing as something bright and white fills the room. Joy, relief blooms in your chest.

‘What?’ You say.

Frankie’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

‘I love you.’ He repeats.

You giggle as the feeling overtakes you, sway in his arms as you become lightheaded.

‘I love you, too.’ You whisper, and Frankie breaks out into a grin. It all seems so simple now, all seems so easy. It all makes sense. All the bullshit, the touching, the looks. Frankie kisses you again, all tongue and teeth and smiles before he chuckles.

‘Fucks sake,’ he mumbles.

‘What?’ You ask, still grinning.

‘Now I have to tell Pope he was right. That you do like me.’

You laugh at him, pulling him close by the hip, a hand tangled in his hair again. 

‘I do like you,’ you say. ‘I like you quite a lot.’

You dip your hand back to the front of his jeans, palming his cock in earnest. His hips buck against you as he groans into your mouth, as he slips his hands down to your tits again, this time yanking your top up to expose them. Frankie moans at the sight of the lace you’re wearing, thumbing and twisting and pinching your nipples again.

‘You’re gonna kill me,’ he whines as you begin to undo his belt.

‘Panties match.’ You breathe into his collarbone, and he moans, ducking his head to your neck, sucking at your pulse point, biting and then licking to soothe the mark he’s made.

You pant against him, growing frustrated with your sloppy fingers on his buckle. He chuckles at you, guiding your hands away before replacing them with his own. He whips it off and throws it down by his feet. You lick your lips. Hungry, impatient.

‘Come to bed, Frankie. Please.’

‘Be patient, baby,’ he coos. ‘We have so much time.’

You pout at him, and he smirks.

But an idea is already forming. If he's not going to come to bed, you’re going to go to him.

You smile sweetly as you step back towards him, reaching a hand up to his cheek to draw him in for a kiss again. Frankie lets you, and you take the moment to pop open his button and undo his zipper. He breathes out shakily against your lips, but you suck on his bottom lip, licking, nipping, until he regains his focus. When you slip your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, he shudders, gasping against you. You smile into his mouth before tipping his head back and sucking marks into his neck. Deep and hard so they bruise, licking into the hollow of his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock. Your fingers don’t meet, and you moan at this realisation, eager to feel the stretch, the burn as you take him. You grip him tighter, running your fist along his shaft, pulling at the soft skin until you reach his tip, thumbing the precum over the rest of his length. When you’re satisfied he’s been teased enough, you drop down to your knees. 

He watches you, one hand pressed to your cheek, your temple, your hair as you look up at him all doe-eyed, pulling his jeans and boxers down so that his length can spring free. When Frankie’s cock lurches out from his underwear, you loose a gasp and a groan. He’s beautiful. So thick, so soft-looking as he twitches under your gaze, tip deeply flushed and oozing precum, his balls heavy beneath.

‘Fuck, baby,’ you breathe. Frankie inhales deeply through his nose, his hand still tangled in your hair as he says, quietly -

‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I know,’ you say, ‘But I want to.’ 

Frankie’s grip in your hair tightens imperceptibly, and you hum quietly, licking your lips before curling over your palm and spitting into it. Frankie groans above you, full lower lip caught behind his teeth, his head cocked to the side. His broad chest rises and falls quickly, flushed.

His breath catches harshly in his throat when you reach out and touch him. He throbs in your hand, and you smile delightedly up at him when again your fingers don’t meet around him. You lean forward to mouth at his hip, and his hips buck towards you as you lick, kiss, suck, and bite. You want to leave marks everywhere, want him to remember this for days, to feel your teeth on him for weeks. You stroke him slowly and tightly all the time, moving down to his thighs, coating his skin in your saliva, nipping at the soft flesh there, moving your mouth up, up, up, reaching out with your tongue to kitten-lick his balls.

Frankie’s fist balls in your hair as he lets out a whimper, and you smirk into him, nudging forward to breathe in his musky scent. 

‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘Please, hermosa -’

‘Be patient, baby,’ you say, mocking him. ‘We have so much time.’

He doesn’t answer with words, but he uses the fist in your hair to move you further out from his body so your mouth sits so pretty, a little open, in front of his weeping cock. You grin up at him, clearly enjoying the tease.

Holding his eye, you pull your top and bra down to just below your tits, exposing your pebbled nipples. You rock back on your heels to play with them a little, twisting and pinching and moaning before Frankie tries to push you a little closer.

‘Fuck, put me in your mouth,’ he growls. ‘Put me in your mouth while you play with yourself like that, baby. Lemme fuck your throat.’

You moan lewdly back up at him, giving your tits one last squeeze before you take his tip between your lips, swirling your tongue over the tight skin, fluttering it over his frenulum. Frankie throws his head back in a choked moan, his whole body rigid as he tries his best not to thrust all the way into your mouth. You bring your hands to his thighs and scrape your nails along them gently before pressing forward. You loosen your jaw and take him as far as you can, satisfied when you feel him hit the back of your throat, when he hisses through his teeth.

‘Fuck,’ he grits, ‘Fuck, so good - your mouth feels so good, cielo - can you feel me all the way back there? Can you -’

He cuts himself off as you swallow around him, tasting the salt of his precum as he lets out a pained sound, his cock achingly swollen. You pull off him slowly.

‘Keep talking,’ you rasp, ‘It’s sexy.’

His cock is already so wet from your throat that he slides back in easily. Frankie rocks as you hum around him at the taste, the feel, the weight of it. Salt pools in your mouth when he whimpers again, as you swirl circles on his pulsating head, as you lick long stripes up him and cup his balls.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he says, louder this time. ‘Never knew you had such a mouth, babygirl. All those smart things and - fuck - this is what it was made for - made for me, made for my cock - shit - aren’t you?’ 

You move faster as Frankie babbles, as you feel the drips from his cock warm the heat in your belly further, take him deeper. His hips begin to move almost beyond his will, not harsh, not pressing, but like he just can’t help himself. Tears well in your eyes and begin to drip down your cheeks, flushed, hungry, proud. You hum again and swallow around him, reaching between your legs, hiking your skirt up so you can push your ruined panties aside. Your pussy is soaked, embarrassingly so, and you moan around him again, losing focus for a second at the first fingertip you press to your aching clit.

‘Wanna fuck you,’ Frankie pants out, ‘Please, wanna fuck you baby - let me out your mouth, come on now - please, baby, please, baby - fuck - fuck -’

You flick your eyelashes up at him as you bob at the same pace as your fingers, and Frankie damn near loses it at the sight of your hand disappearing up towards your cunt.

‘Get off - get off, lemme fuck you like you need, baby - fuck, fuck - shit -’

You smirk around him, enjoying this, enjoying seeing him strung out, begging, throbbing in your mouth as he tries desperately to keep from coming.

‘Stop,’ he moans. You hollow your cheeks and whine again, but this time he pulls you off quickly, strong with his hand in your hair, and the sting of it feels delicious. Frankie stands half ruined above you, panting, closing his eyes at the sight of the string of spit connecting your mouth to his twitching cock. ‘Please, baby,’ he says, ‘Be good. I don’t want to come down your throat in five minutes the first time we do this.’

You blink up at him through your tears, and he makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

‘Come here,’ he murmurs, pulling you gently back up to your feet. He sits you down on the bed, and you haul yourself further back on your elbows. He watches you, stepping out of his shoes, his pants and underwear, throwing off his shirt to some dark corner of the room as he sets a knee on the bed and comes crawling towards you. The sight reminds you of another night, him on your bed, you at the window - 

‘Let me undress you,’ he murmurs against your neck, his cock heavy and wet against your thigh You arch your back up into him, too hot, aching, too wet -

‘Please,’ you gasp.

Frankie pulls you forwards by your jaw, tugging your shirt over your chin as you sit up, hands reaching greedily for his skin. He lets you as he unfastens your bra, whipping it away from your chest, moaning as he takes you in. His lips latch to your collarbones as he shuffles away from you, and your hands fly to his hair. He bites and licks and sucks and kisses in the same way you did, moaning against you as you tug on his curls, as you buck your hips up to bump at his cock. He makes his way lower, pressing feather light kisses to your sternum, to the top of each breast, before closing his lips around your nipple, sucking and biting and swirling. You gasp, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, the ache in your pussy almost painful now. Frankie plants a hand by your head to hold himself up, letting the other one fall to your thigh, dancing on your feverish skin.

‘Frankie -’ you plead, but it’s useless, useless as he releases your nipple with a pop, only to give the other the same attention.

Grunting, you shift your hips, wiggling your hands down to your skirt, pushing it down and halfway off.

‘Hey,’ Frankie grunts, stopping his ministrations altogether to pin both of your hands above your head. You arch your chest and Frankie nips at the mound of flesh you present to him, his acknowledgement of you continuing to play dirty. He breathes your soft skin in, slow and deep, before looking up at you. His eyes are hot, molten, and you whine and twist in his grip as his nostrils flair. ‘Keep your hands up here, y’hear me?’ He says. You nod furiously, and he squeezes your wrists again before slowly letting you go.

Before slowly backing down the bed, slowly kissing your chest, your belly, before slowly spreading your thighs, before burying his face in your lace-covered pussy, mouthing at you behind the fabric, breathing in and groaning out.

‘Soaked through, baby,’ he breathes. ‘That all for me?’

Yes, you think, as his fingers hook around the waistband, as he begins to pull them down and off. Feeling the cool air meet your hot, slick centre and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual. All for you. He opens you up wider once your underwear is off, and looks up at you through his eyelashes, flushed, fucked out already.

‘You look so - fucking good like this.’ He says.

You nudge your hips gently up to his face, and he finally, finally indulges, flicking his tongue out to scoop up your arousal, to swallow it down, to groan as he laps at your clit. 

It almost hurts, how good it feels. This slow, hot, velvet texture licking at you, pointed where it needs to be, soft wherever else, as he delves and dives and slurps and draws every imaginable sound from you. You’re past the point of coherent words, just bucking hips and fingers that scrape through his curls, muffled pleases and Frankies as he works you out in circles and figure eights. As he spreads your lips with his fingers for better, more sensitive access, as he sucks your clit into his mouth, as he slips a finger in. And then another.

The stretch is delicious, even if you know it’s not a patch on what’s coming.

Frankie hums deeply in the back of his throat, his eyes closed and face wet with slick. You watch him, amazed. Your best friend who you’ve seen in almost any scenario. Sharing dinner, out for walks, changing batteries, below you as you ground out an orgasm on his thick thigh - but nothing, nothing can compare to the blissed out, sweaty sight of him between your thighs. Brow furrowed and curved in pleasure and concentration, mouth working over you. Thick curls falling over his forehead, his fingertips pressed into your thighs, the other hand pressed deep inside you.

This is heaven. This is fucking heaven, laying here as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curved up towards that spot you can never quite reach yourself. The band of heat, of light which has been bunched up at the apex of your thighs is tightening, tightening, and you can feel it inside you as your muscles clench, turn solid. 

‘Frankie - Frankie - Frankie -’ you gasp, trying to warn him as a molten high tide rises in your body, as your hips lift, as you work yourself further onto him, as your hands twist and clutch at the bed, at your tits.

He doesn’t pull his mouth away to hum an mmhmm in encouragement against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tight, the pressure unbearable.

‘Gonna come - fuck - I’m gonna come Frankie, fuck -’

It’s fucking devastating. The rip and heat which tears through you, your body erupting in ecstasy, as something hot, heavy, and destructive sears through you. 

Your back arches and the darkness behind your eyes contracts to red, limbs rigid as you shatter in his mouth, as he continues to lick and suck and take every drip which floods itself out of you, grunting and gasping as he chuckles, as he tells you -

‘Good girl, baby, good girl. Fuckin’ delicious. You look so good baby, squeezing my fingers so tight. God, what’d I do, what’d I do to deserve this.’

You feel yourself radiate across the room, illuminating every corner before banding back into yourself. For a while, there is only the pant of your breath and Frankie’s muffled voice and something hot and wet moving against your pulsing clit. You don’t know how long you’ve been gripping his hair for, or how hard, but you slowly let go, teasing your fingers from his curls as you breathe. Frankie pulls his fingers out of you and you groan at the loss, eyes fluttering shut, head rolling to your shoulder. He sucks your clit into his mouth one more time, and you jerk away from the overstimulation.

Frankie crawls back up the bed again, and you open his eyes when his warm hand presses to your cheek. He’s grinning at you, thrilled as he holds his used fingers out in front of your lips. Wordlessly, you pull them into your mouth, tongue working to clean him of your taste. He swoops a breath out, removing his fingers gently when you’re done before leaning in to kiss you. He tastes salty sweet, beard heavy with the smell of you as he ghosts his hands all over your body. He swallows.

‘How do you want me, querida?’ He whispers.

You want him in every position, and you seem to tell him as much. He laughs as he plants more kisses to your lips, tongue darting out to find yours, to trace the line of your throat. You watch, delirious, as he settles between your thighs, thumbing over your clit so you twitch again. 

‘Want you on your back, like this,’ he murmurs, ‘Wanna watch you take me.’

You nod at him, utter something like a please, a thank you, a Frankie as he notches himself at your entrance, the fat head of his cock already bruising, already stretching. Frankie sees it, flicks his eyes to yours.

‘Are you sure you’re ready?’ he asks, kindly, softly. You hook your legs around his hips by way of answer, pulling him closer, toppling him forward. A big, bright smile blossoms over his cheeks, creasing his crows feet. You can’t help but mirror him, pressing a hand to his chest, the other tangling in the nape of his neck.

‘I love you,’ you breathe against his teeth. He lays his forehead against yours.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs.

Frankie cants his hips forward, and the bruising feeling gives way to something which is almost sharply painful as it pulls through you. The pain quickly dulls to a full ache as Franlie slides a little further forwards, watching you, tracing every part of your features. You hook your legs higher around his waist and wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close as you breathe, as you whine and leak around him. Frankie drinks it all in, giving soft praises, pushing back from you so he can take it in. Your slick, puffy cunt split open and stretched around him, and your body, glowing, sweaty, layed out lazily, knees spread and dropped either side of your chest as you watch him, brow furrowed, lip bitten. 

He’s going too slow. 

Far, far too slow for the pressure already rebuilding in your gut, for the way he presses against every place inside your body. You move your hips to fuck yourself down his cock a little more, and one of his big hands shoots out to stop you. 

‘Easy, baby, easy. Take it slow. Doin’ so good for me, look at you.’

You whine, back arching again, and he groans low and full.

‘Stop doing that,’ he says, ‘Making yourself look so good. I’m tryna make this good. I’m tryna make this last.’

Frankie latches his mouth back to your skin, forming bruises as he bottoms out, as he waits for you to beg him.

‘Wanna feel you tomorrow,’ you huff, warm against him. ‘Wanna remember, wanna be sore. God, Frankie, please - please move. I need you to, you have to -’ words fail at the slow drag of his cock, heavy against your walls. Your throat constricts as he pauses and begins to push back in, picking up the pace every time. Your noises are  keening and needy, and he brushes the hair back from your face.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ He coos.

You make a breathless, high-pitched noise at every punch of his hips, and Frankie lifts his head to swallow them as they fall from your lips. And it’s unfair. Unfair that a word like ‘fucking’ is what has to be used for this, for how tightly you have to cling to him to make sure you’re not flung into outer space. You grip his biceps as you watch him, legs wrapped around his waist again so he can drive in deeper, deeper, deeper, as you get louder, louder, louder -

‘Benny fuck you like this, baby?’

The question takes you by surprise, though perhaps it shouldn’t. It riles something in your gut, a satisfaction, a delight, because he knows. Already knows as he fucks you, as he cages you in and stares at you, your body, the way you fit together and move, the noises you’re making, the look on your face, the way you choke him tighter and tighter -

‘Fuck no, Frankie. God, fucking - no -’

Frankie grunts deep, accentuating your response with a particularly sharp thrust which makes you cry out and see stars. You grit your teeth, feeling the coil tighten further, craning to meet his lips.

He pecks them as he thrusts, sucking your lips, biting when he can.

‘You asked if I heard you,’ he pants, and you hold your breath. ‘I heard you - fuck - so many times, baby. Fucked my fist to you so many times. Couldn’t think of anything else but your little moans and noises.’

You clench excruciatingly around him, and he makes that same pained noise from before.

‘And I saw you, too,’ he gasps. Your eyes lock, his black and earnest, like he could devour you and the universe whole. You feel something loosen and pull inside of you. ‘Once, in the shower. And I couldn’t look away, couldn’t forget - but I wished I could, you were just -’ He swallows into your neck as you begin to pulsate, his words pushing you closer. You know what he’s talking about, had wondered for weeks, had had fantasies and hoped for months, fuck - ‘And then at Santi’s, feeling you lose yourself on top of me, feeling you come, god -’ he grits out. ‘I could live with loving you, just about. I could, if I wasn’t what you needed. But when I heard you say my name like that in your sleep, baby, when I felt you push it out on me, I had to know, I had to know - you feel so goddamn good. Nothing should ever feel this good. Nothing ever has.’

And then, because you can’t help it, because you need to hear it, you choke out -

‘Tasha?’ And he shakes his head, breathing raggedly.

‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘Fucking - nothing.’

You eyes spin back in their sockets, and you claw at him, something white hot just within your grasp, your pussy throbbing -

‘Frankie,’ you cry, ‘Frankiefrankiefrankiefrankiefrankie -’ in a warning, a prayer, a promise; and he answers you, the aquiline curve of his nose pressing into your cheek as he coaxes you, begs you, tells you to come for him. 

It’s too much, the movement of him, the size, the weight. He doesn’t need to touch you anywhere else as you splinter apart beneath him, shards of light splashing across the walls as you heat and combust, as you tighten and tighten and then burst, wet against his lap, against the sheets, as you cling on to him, as you shake and gasp and gasp out any noise you can. Your pussy flutters and contracts around him, and Frankie grunts and moans in your ear, breath hot, cock twitching and so hard inside your body.

‘Where -?’ He chokes out.

‘Inside.’

And fresh dizziness laps at your temples as you feel him pump inside your body, as you feel his cock jump with his spend, as he softly fucks it in to you. The squelch, the wetness, is obscene. You want to be full like this all the time. 

You lay there for sometime, wrapped up in each other, his cock still keeping you plugged, as you breathe in each other’s air and whisper your thoughts and confessions. Frankie keeps you close, legs tangled, softening, tracing shapes on your bare shoulders in the glow of the lamp as the sounds of the party slowly begin to filter back through the crack under the door.

‘Hope Tommy doesn’t mind us using the bedroom.’ You murmur, and he snorts.

‘Bit late now,’ he says. ‘Hope Will doesn’t like him too much.’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with your fist. He makes to bite at it, clicking his teeth together as you pull it away. You grin at each other, eyes gleaming and full.

‘I love you.’ He says again.

You hum into his shoulder, stifling a yawn. ‘Love you, too.’

There’s quiet for a moment, your head clear, before Frankie shifts beside you.

‘We’re still friends though, right?’ He says into your hair, and watches as you laugh, loud, tucking your face into his neck.

‘You asshole,’ you giggle, glancing up into his eyes. ‘’Course we are.’

He hums into your scalp, tangling his legs with yours further. You run your feet up his calves.

His thumb strokes along the back of your knuckles, and his breath tangles in your hair. Soft kisses are pressed to any inch of skin he can find, and you bury your face in his neck, nipping and soothing, smiling like an idiot.

You don’t think you’ll ever be friends again. But maybe that’s a good thing.

#frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #peach pit #tommy's party #Spotify #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

[camilaxmartin]

I’m so glad there is another Lute lover 😭 literally she makes me feral. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Lute w a super feminine gf (in personality and fashion sense)! If not that’s totally cool and you can ignore this ask!!! Have a great day! :) 💜

her princess

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: headcanons about lute being in relationship with a high feminine girl and everything that comes with it:)

warnings: soft!lute, a bit suggestive part at the end, adam being a dick in one scene

notes: finally getting to the requests! yay! anyway, LOVED WRITING THIS ONE AS I AM PERSONALLY A VERY FEMININE GIRLIE SKDHDDJ

requests: open!!

★ | let’s start with the fact that you’re literally the purest and most beautiful angel lute has ever seen in her life and in whole heaven. the first time you two meet she literally can’t take her eyes off of you, explaining to herself that she’s just simply admiring how confident you are while being so… girly and the literal opposite of what she has thought her whole life being confident means.

★ | it was nothing special, the first time you two met, just a simple, accidental meeting on the promenade of heaven, lute walking home off-duty when she spots you. if she hadn’t have this much of self control she’d just stop in her tracks and stare at you, but thankfully her mind didn’t let her. she notices the way you’re dressed and how amazingly beautiful your wings present themselves with this whole look and she’s literally speechless. not that she’d utter a word to you if she wasn’t.

★ | it’s obvious you notice her as well, how could you not? an angel like her just walking around the promenade, cmon now, who wouldn’t notice her? you smile softly to her and just turn away, walking your own path, making that dress of yours flatter perfectly. lute’s eyes haven’t left your presence till you literally disappeared from her field of view. and she could’ve sworn her body didn’t have any reaction to you, yet her wings came right in to disobey her. they puffed up ever so slightly, making lute feel the heat going through her back. and since then, you haven’t left her thoughts alone, messing up with her daily schedule and everything she’s known.

★ | adam has picked up on her strange behaviour almost immediately and looked at her suspiciously:

“what’s up your ass this morning, danger-tits?” he asked looking at her with his eyebrows raised. she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“nothing, just…” she stopped mid sentence and huffed. “nothing” she added and flew off, getting ready for her training.

★ | the next time she saw you, she was walking home as well but this time spotted you sitting at the ‘gods-caffe’ eating a donut with sprinkles. she stopped and just simply observed you through the huge window on the wall of the caffe, definitely forgetting about a fact that you can, indeed, see her too. just when you finished your last bite of that donut you instinctively turned your head to the side and noticed her, literally starring at you. at first you were a bit confused but that expression almost immediately turned into a soft smile, as you started to get up from your seat. that action seemed to pull lute out of her state as she immediately started walking away and even flew up just to not let you catch her.

★ | and that simple interaction if you can even call it that, caused another wave of questions from adam to fall over her the next morning:

“okay, you’re quite out of this world, what’s on your mind huh?” he asked smiling like he knew exactly what was going on and put his hands on his hips. lute rolled her eyes and groaned flying away once again, to join the other exterminators in their sparring.

★ | as she finally thought she got over that mystical angel girl that seemed to corrupt her mind, as she was flying around heaven with adam, he bumped into you causing a lot of chaos:

“watch where you’re flying, asshole!” he yelled not even looking at who he’s bumped into. when lute turned her head and noticed you, her eyes immediately went wide and she felt the lump in her throat forming, looking at your another dress fitting you just so perfectly, the colour matching your eyes.

“oh, sorry” you said stroking your cheek where adam’s mask has hit you few second ago. he rolled his eyes and immediately flew off, flying even higher up the clouds. your eyes finally noticed the girl who seemed to be staring at you for a moment now. you smiled to her softly and waved.

“hi” you said with remaining smile, your dress floating in the motion of your wings keeping you in air. lute was immediately pulled out of her thoughts and stared at you even more intensely now.

“uh- hi” she said looking away and her eyes stared following adam who was now waiting above the two of you with confusion forming on his mask.

“i saw you in front of that caffe, and wanted to talk to you but you disappeared” you said with a soft chuckle and lute swore it was the softest sound she’s heard in her life. and then she noticed you were waiting for her response.

“oh yeah- i was just passing by” she shrugged simply, trying to erase the fact that she was literally starring at you that day. “you…” she cleared her throat and looked up at adam again. “i have to go” she said quickly and flew off, joining adam high up. you just followed her with your eyes and with a small frown but decided not to chase them not wanting to get into another conversation with that dude.

★ | and after that incident adam was even more sure what was happening. he started annoying lute all day long about that girl she suddenly lost her ability to speak around and that it’s unknown for her to do so. he started joking about how the girl was literally looking like a doll and that was when lute had had enough of him and decided to take a day off, just to gather her thoughts and, let’s be real here, get a break from this dipshit

★ | on her day off, she decided to simply fly around heaven to let her mind wander and finally get rest. after a lot, and i mean, a lot, of thinking and wondering she’s come to conclusion that it’s immaculate that you’re able to be confident as an angel looking that… feminine. which made her mind spiral even deeper making all of her thoughts just about you, about how you look, about your voice and how soft it is and how outrageously sweet your lips must taste… wait-

★ | she’d probably spend her whole day off just on that when she noticed you sitting on a cloud close to when she was actually flying. she took a deep breath and decided to approach you. she flew up to the cloud immediately and just floated right next to you. your head turned immediately and the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen creeped onto your face.

“hi” she said with more confidence this time her wings immediately opening more and puffing up a bit. you obviously noticed that and chuckled, the sound making lute’s wings puff up even more.

“hi” you responded and moved a bit so she could sit down next to you. and she did.

★ | i’d say your attraction to her grew rather quickly same as hers to you. she was still amazed by your delicate personality and the way you dressed and how you managed to pull it off so… effortlessly. and believe me, it added a lot to her liking to you.

★ | after that accidental meeting on that cloud, lute decided to ask you out to that caffe she saw you in, not even realising it sounded like a date and not just a normal meet-up, but the smile on your face assured her that you didn’t mind it being an actual date.

★ | when you two met up for that date, lute was surprised to find out that you had some kind of a sweet tooth and couldn’t imagine a coffee without something sweet to eat with it. she let you pick whatever you wanted and whichever coffee you wanted and smiled seeing you picked out the sweetest one they offered while also ordering a slice of strawberry-chocolate cake with it. she ordered an expresso for herself without anything to eat.

“i see you like sweet things” she chuckled sitting down at one of the tables against huge windows. you giggled taking a sip.

“what can i say? i guess i like to sweeten up my life as much as i can” you chuckled taking a bite from your cake. “in any matter” you added with a small smirk.

she raised her eyebrow at you not fully understanding. “what do you mean?” she asked taking a sip from her cup.

“i choose sweet people to sweeten up my life as well as the sweetest treats i can find” you laughed and lute’s eyes went wide as she looked away from you with a chuckle trying to hide her embarrassment from that little teasingly compliment of yours.

★ | lute was delighted to find out you loved flowers. the first time she’s ever been in your apartment, she noticed straight away how many plants you had and that you always had some kind of flowers on your coffee table in the saloon. she smiled to herself knowing exactly how to surprise you next time.

“hi!” she yelled flying up to your window one day and waking you up. you yawned and walked over to the window opening it and looking at her surprised.

“lute?” you asked surprised, looking at the girl floating behind your window wearing a wide grin.

lute’s smile widened even more as she took out flowers from behind her back and handed them to you. “just a little treat for you” she said more nervously now but still trying to keep her voice calm. your eyes widened and a smile immediately creeped up to your face.

“my god, thank you!” you said taking the flowers and moving away from the window so she can enter your bedroom. you immediately put the flowers onto your desk and walked back to lute locking her in a hug she definitely wasn’t prepared for. “best morning ever” you whispered with a giggle at which she chuckled nervously.

you leaned away a bit when you felt her wings flatter a bit and she looked away awkwardly, feeling her cheeks starting to burn. you chuckled and decided there won’t be a better occasion than this. softly your hands grabbed her cheeks and you moved your lips to hers, connecting them in a soft and quick kiss just showing your gratefulness. lute didn’t kiss you back, but not because she didn’t want to, but because she was too stunned to do so. when you leaned away with a chuckle she immediately moved her face to yours, locking your lips in another kiss, less soft and definitely less stunned.

★ | something she’d need to get used to is how many little stuff you own. lute isn’t really the one to be nostalgic and sentimental about a lot of stuff, but when she saw your collection of random things that just bring joy or any other feeling to you, that you decided to keep, her brain told her she doesn’t own anything sentimental.

★ | when you started spending even more time together and lute stayed the night with you, she was surprised but very pleasant to get to know about your love for baths and everything that comes with it. she couldn’t believe her eyes the first time she saw how many bath salts and bombs you had not really expecting you to have so many in so many different colours and shapes. she looked through them curious and picked up a heart-shaped, black one smelling it, her eyes going immediately wide when the scent hit her nose.

“you like it?” you asked with a giggle running a bath for yourself, standing next to her.

“it smells marvellous” she said smelling it once again. you just giggled at her reaction and started to take off all your rings to prepare for the bath.

“you can use it if you want” you said nonchalantly with a smile watching her face turn up into a smile.

“really?” she asked looking at you with literal glimpses in her eyes at what you giggled once again.

“of course” you responded with a smile.

★ | speaking of which, lute was surprised to see your collection of rings. of course she noticed those that you were wearing daily but she didn’t expect you to have a full box of different rings and necklaces. she looked through them fascinated and even put on some of them when she was sure you couldn’t see her. she looked down on her hands and smiled enjoying how they looked on her fingers, making them longer and slimmer. when you came into the room her wings immediately went out hiding her while she tried to desperately take off the rings so you wouldn’t notice she tried them on. you slowly walked over to her with a curious smile, moving one of her wings out of your way and noticing how she tried to put all of them in their places. you chuckled softly.

“you can wear them if you want” you said walking away from her and going to the mirror to brush your hair. lute smiled sheepishly at you and picked out one ring putting it on her finger admiring it once again.

“i didn’t know you liked jewellery so much” she said still being focused on her hand. you chuckled softly and shrugged.

“what can i say? i like to have many options” you smiled looking at her through the mirror. “you can keep it” you added looking at the ring she chose.

“definitely not” she said laughing nervously and taking it off. you rolled your eyes playfully, walking over to her and putting the ring on her finger once again, softly looking into her eyes.

“keep it. please.” you said with a smile and lute couldn’t help but look away trying not to blush, as her wings puffed up without her consent.

★ | the same night she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw your collection of stuffed animals. she smiled uncontrollably seeing how deeply you talked about every and each of them and couldn’t wait for you birthday to come so she could surprise you with another one of them. or to be fair, she just couldn’t wait to surprise you with it any day, not looking at the occasion.

★ | lute also didn’t expect your pyjamas to be as soft as they actually were. when the two of you got into your bed, lute wearing some old t-shirt with shorts and felt your silk matching set of pyjama on her skin she literally looked down at you with pure surprise in her eyes which you softly laughed at.

“you like my pyjamas?” you asked and she nodded her head, cuddling you tightly, pressing her skin onto yours her wings puffing up uncontrollably.

★ | deeper in the relationship lute would need to get used to a lot of things with you. for example your mood swings. of course she was a bit moody herself but the first time she saw how easily your mood could be changed just because of a small thing she needed a moment to understand it. she loved your personality and everything that came with it so it didn’t really change much, and just the thought of getting to know more of your sides made her heart flutter which she hated herself for, not being used to having that much feelings for someone.

★ | the first time you offered doing a spy night with her she was a bit sceptical but your puppy eyes made her change her mind very quickly. and just like that she ended up with a black care mask on her face, cucumber on her eyes and some kind of pink mask on her lips.

★ | when you asked her if you could paint her nails she didn’t have anything against it, until you said you wanted to paint them pink. she squinted her face and sighed but agreed, telling you she’d wash it off in the morning when she’d leave.

“pink really suits you” you said painting her toe nails and giggling. lute rolled her eyes but smiled looking down at her pink nails both on her toes and hands.

“sure” she said teasingly and laughed as this time you rolled your eyes.

“really, it brings out your lips” you said and she looked away feeling her blush.

“shut up” she said as her wings puffed up a bit, and her eyes stayed on your ceiling. you chuckled.

★ | safe to say, she didn’t wipe it off in the morning no matter how badly she complained before that she’d do it.

(a bit suggestive!!)

★ | another thing lute was surprised but also delighted to find out was the collection of lingerie and matching sets you owned. she didn’t mean to find them at first, but when you told her she could pick out something from your wardrobe to change into she just… happened to find them and beside the huge blush that covered her face she also couldn’t stop her mind from wandering and imagining you in all of those sets in many, and i mean many, different situations.

you walked back into your room noticing lute was just starting at something in your closet, so you softly sneaked up to her peeking at what she was looking and chuckled softly.

“enjoying my collection?” you asked with a giggle feeling your blush coming out. lute immediately looked back at you with a dumb smile and a nod of her head.

“yeah, very” she said looking away from you and her eyes uncontrollably going back to the underwear and then slowly to your body. you giggled seeing her eyes.

“wait for the day you see me in them” you smiled and kissed her forehead leaving a lip stain there.

“can’t wait” she chuckled and looked at you, grabbing your waist softly and pulling you in for a deep kiss, her wings puffing up immediately, when her lips only touched yours.

@lizbizbae <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #lute fluff

[blueberry-lemon]

An introductory guide to getting into Sonic the Hedgehog...

…if you're a grown-ass adult who is busy and doesn't want to play a bunch of video games but thinks the characters look sorta cool.

If you've ever been curious about Sonic as a series but haven't known where to start, I have some recommendations! I think Sonic is a cool and still somewhat unique thing because it takes cartoony characters (like a Mickey Mouse or Felix the Cat) and lets them jump around in cool action sequences through the lens of a shonen anime. It's colorful and usually pretty light-hearted, and I think the character designs are pretty iconic.

There's two handy places you can start without prior context, to see if it's something you'd be into...

Getting Started: If You Wanna Read Something

The IDW Sonic Comics

There were years of different Sonic comics back in the '90s and early 2000's, but the franchise got a complete reboot and fresh start with IDW Publishing in 2018. If you're looking for the most straight-forward way to get into this world of characters, I think this is a great start. You don't need any prior knowledge whatsoever to crack open issue 1 and get started. All you need to know is "Sonic and his friends protect the world by fighting against an evil scientist named Dr. Eggman, who they just recently defeated after he briefly took over the world."

I love these comics and I feel that the writers and artists who work on it have a really good sense for this series. Reading issues 1 through 12 will get you the first major story arc. If you like it so far, I highly suggest reading up through issue 32, when another major story arc concludes. After that, the world's your oyster! Unlike the tangled web of Marvel or DC comics, IDW Sonic has a very simple and linear reading order. You pretty much just read the issues in order, and occasionally there are spinoff stories that are optional to read.

Getting Started: If You Wanna Watch Something

Sonic Mania Adventures

Maybe comics aren't your thing and you want something even quicker. These are a series of animated shorts that are lovely. Conveniently, they've been compiled together by Sega into one little video right here.

It's a great intro to some of the main characters, and combines cartoon slapstick with some amazing action sequences.

There's also a nice little epilogue short.

Sonic CD's intro cutscene

If I had to pick a single 1-and-a-half minute clip to embody what I like about this series, it would be this very simple intro movie that plays before Sonic CD. Check it out!

Sonic Origins/Sonic Origins Plus Cutscenes

In 2022, Sega released a compilation of the classic Genesis games on modern consoles. In it, they added a few animated cutscenes. You can watch those cutscenes, plus the Sonic CD intro and the Sonic Mania Adventures episodes, all compiled into one handy Youtube video.

Taking The Next Step: If You Wanna Read Something

The Archie Sonic Comics

You might have heard that Sonic had a comic series published by Archie Comics from 1992 to 2016. This was a vast, overarching series that wrote an original story by weaving together ideas from the different Sonic cartoons and games. It went through several different writers, many different artists, and obviously spanned over multiple eras of pop culture.

It's pretty cool! The fact that it was so long-running, and the fact that Sega wasn't very strict with what the writers could do, led to a lot of buckwild lore, new characters, and plot developments. That said, it's also pretty bizarre, complicated, corny, and cringey at times. There is a stretch in the middle that is pretty infamous among fans.

You have a few options for jumping in.

Option A: You can start at the very beginning and read all of it. If you do this, it is going to be like a One Piece / Homestuck / etc. kind of undertaking, and you're going to be pushing through the good and the bad of huge genre and tone shifts. That's your call!

Option B: You can brush up on the main characters on a wiki and then start at Issue 160, when Ian Flynn (who now does a lot of work on IDW Sonic) became the lead writer. More specifically, you can jump in at the start of a new story arc by starting at Issue 175.

Option C: You can start at Issue 252, when there is a universe-altering event that essentially retcons all of the characters and plot threads from the previous writers and starts completely fresh. Easier to keep track of and you won't have to worry about all the previous plot and lore.

If you want something you can read in a single sitting, you should instead read Sonic: Mega Drive, a short-lived miniseries published by Archie that follows "Classic Sonic" characters (aka, the same vibe and art style of Sonic Origins, Sonic Mania Adventures, etc.) It's really great!

Taking The Next Step: If You Wanna Watch Something

Sonic the Hedgehog (OVA) aka "Sonic the Hedgehog: The Movie" (1996)

This is, essentially, a 1-hour Sonic anime movie. You can watch it in Japanese or in English. I adore it. It makes up its own lore and continuity so you don't need to know anything before going in, besides generally knowing a one-sentence synopsis of who Sonic, Tails, and Dr. Robotnik are. It's action-packed, well-animated, and has great music. Enjoy! Sonic X If you're enjoying what you've seen so far, and you want something much, much longer...there's an official 78-episode anime adaptation of Sonic called Sonic X. It's an original story that loosely pulls together some ideas from a few of the games. It's mostly intended for a younger audience, but I hear if you watch it in the original uncut Japanese, it feels a little less "for kids."

Other Ways To Get Into Sonic

There's some great video essays on Youtube about the series!

Professional animator Dan Floyd did an in-depth video looking at the highs and lows of Sonic character animation in the games starting from Sonic 1 up through Sonic Forces.

Super Bunnyhop plays through the first level of a bunch of Sonic games to compare how the mechanics, physics, and level design feel throughout the games' history.

Liam Triforce has a great deep dive on the franchise's music.

You can play The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, a murder-mystery-party themed visual novel put out by Sega. It's nice and short, so you can finish it in an afternoon.

If you haven't seen them already, you can check out the live-action/animated hybrid films Sonic 1 and Sonic 2 featuring Ben Schwartz and Jim Carrey, they're pretty good. That Sonic Prime cartoon that's currently on Netflix is pretty good too.

This may sound strange, but honestly you might enjoy poring over the sprite sheets from the old games. In particular, I really like the sprite animations from the GBA games, like Sonic Advance and Sonic Battle.

Sega is pretty lax about allowing noncommercial fan games, so there's at least a hundred different Sonic fan games out there by hobbyist developers. Check out the Sonic Amateur Games Expo and the Sonic Fan Games HQ.

You can watch LPs or cutscene compilations of the games on Youtube! If you watch Sonic Adventure, Sonic Adventure 2, and Sonic Heroes, you'll get a crash course on most of the characters.

And finally, of course...you can play the games if you want to! There's a number of them that are available on Steam, Switch, Xbox, and Playstation if you don't have access to older consoles.

There's a lot of different angles to come at Sonic as a franchise, and lots of different entry points. Have fun!

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #idw sonic #idw sonic the hedgehog #sonic mania adventures #blogofkylelab

[bonefall]

heyyyy bonefallll!!! So uhm. Wind released. And if you read it, what do you think of it?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I started ASC off with a lot of excitement. I had known to not get my hopes up, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like they actually had something meaningful to say about the problems in Clan society. For once, it felt fresh.

A conflict based on a murder mystery and a power struggle, political radicalization within another Clan with anti-Clanswapper bigotry turning violent, and the reluctant heir of a legacy sprawling several generations. Like a dark echo of TPB, implying the root issues had never been truly addressed by Darkest Hour. The Clans still have a terrible ruling system. The culture is still bigoted. Firestar failed to destroy the obsession with legacy-- he just founded a new bloodline.

And even if it wasn't THAT deep, it was at least a grounded plot that was based in the characters more than faith in StarClan. If Nightheart's arc about legacy fell apart, I'd still enjoy watching him struggle, lose people, grow, and find his purpose. Or seeing Splashtail juggle the power he'd managed to snatch and was just not smart enough to hold onto. Or the cool fights that would surely result from an invasion of RiverClan.

Wind tossed it. It was already having a downturn in the previous book, but this is a book that seems so afraid of having interesting conflict that it spends 75% of its time debating if something interesting should happen, and 25% of its time barking, "EVIL HEATHENS WHO HATE GOD WILL DESTROY OUR SOCIETY!!"

I can't get over how awful Splashtail's "descent" is. He's having a dumbass atheist stoner debate with Podlight when they go to the Moonpool, musing that maybe you have to eat 9 mice to get 9 lives, and then 2 appearances later he's foaming at the mouth with a dictator speech and kills harelight no miss.

They even seem to have tried to replicate Stonefur's execution but badly. It's jarring. Splashtail had a big dictator speech, killed the beloved deputy suddenly, and the whole camp looks Super Scared and Upset so that you know it's the Evil Leader and not a systemic problem.

His "TALENT FOR MANIPULATION" is saying he heard Curlfeather murmur evil plans in her sleep and (apropos of nothing) accusing her teenage daughter of "getting the wrong idea" about his adult romantic interest in her. I keep coming back to this because the ENTIRE book's plot is based on this successfully smearing Frostpaw's reputation.

you may be tired of hearing it, but I'm definitely more tired than you because I had to read and analyze an ENTIRE BOOK founded on it.

The plot is endlessly arguing over if they can trust Frostpaw or not, gathering "evidence" to this end, while Sunbeam and Nightheart's POVs uselessly languish in ThunderClan doing mentoring stuff.

Im SO sick of being forced to sit in thunderclan while more interesting things happen offscreen. stop adding MORE cats to ThunderClan, you already have Stormcloud and you do NOTHING with him why are they also getting WAFFLEPAW

Everyone's praising the fact that the book can remember previous entries, but actually, I'm going to drop a hot take; It's actually bad if they CAN obviously reference old material, and then it doesn't influence the actions the characters take. They namedrop Nightstar several times and then come up with excuses for why they still need to sit around and do nothing!!

THAT'S WORSE, ACTUALLY.

SCALDING TAKE, I'd RATHER see the cats have the memories of goldfish if the alternative is "We remember Nightstar! We're simply going to purposefully disregard Nightstar, because the plot needs to happen"

They also muse that maybe Splashtail's evilness is making all the RiverClan cats act evil, and they'll go back to normal once he's removed. This has been implied before, but never so blatantly stated.

But most of all, I can't stop going back to "Godless Heathen Bloodlust." What a fucking joke. For a shining minute it looked like we were going to have interesting villains, but no, they really are just coming out and saying that lacking faith is an indicator of a moral failing. What makes Splashtail so uniquely bad and scary is that he "disrespects the ancestors" (hey podlight. what if eating 9 magic mice gives you 9 lives? woah dude look at this. the bugle chips look like claws. lol haha) and hates love and peace and won't even let Jesus guide him.

The scenes with Frostpaw and her allies are the only parts of this book worth reading. Shadowsight, tigerHeartstar. Clinging to Whistlepaw like she's a life preserver. save me windclan

#asc spoilers #warrior cats analysis #So uh. #my thought is that it is Bad. #I did not Enjoy it #I can FIX IT #I WILL FIX IT #I CAN MAKE THIS WORK BUT JESUS CATS.

[wonbokkies]

9:14 pm han yujin. ☆  ͏

word count: 0.4k

syn: a typical late night w/ han yujin.

wrote this bc i was feeling delusional and im in love w my (real) bf yujin 😊😊

“you didn’t have to wait for me, you know,” the boy next to you mumbled softly, his slim fingers gripping the strap of his bag while eyeing your figure that was currently leaning against the cold wall. now aware of his presence, you looked up at him, mindlessly shrugging while removing yourself from the hard surface and making your way to stand next to him, the streetlamp immediately illuminating your features. “practice ended much later than i thought.”

“but i wanted to.” you said.

“but it's late.” yujin replied. looking at the imaginary watch on your wrist, you faked a thinking expression before sending him a lopsided smile.

“not that late.” you retorted.

“it's almost 10.” 

“and? the ice cream shop closes at 10:30, we have time.” you said, causing the taller boy to look at you skeptically. 

“ice cream? this late?” you grinned up at him and nodded beamingly.

“what? don’t wanna get ice cream with me?” his glazed face then broke out into a panicked expression, causing you to stifle a laugh. intertwining your hand with his much larger one, you gently placed them into the right pocket of your puffer jacket, cold fingers still interlocked. the small action ignited an indescribable emotion in the boy, the apples of his cheeks hueing pink and the tips of his ears turning peachy. unconsciously rubbing the top of his hand with your thumb to create warmth, you stared up at the shy 5’9 boy beside you. 

his messy, slightly sweaty locks fell around his face, allowing him to look even prettier than usual. he always looked pretty in your eyes. 

tightening his grip on the sports bag slung around his shoulders, he inhaled when you slowly removed your intertwined hands from your pocket and placed a light, feathery kiss on it, your strawberry chapstick leaving a very slight print. a shy smile instantly formed in the corner of his heart shaped lips, his pretty bunny teeth peeking out.

“doesn’t matter because you’re coming anyways.” you mumbled and his smile only grew. 

yujin deeply appreciated it when you waited for him after his inconsistently late soccer practices. knowing the fact that you were willing to wait alone in the cold weather just for him made a familiar feeling bloom in the pit of his chest. but he wasn’t gonna let you know that. too bad- you already did. 

“what flavor are you getting?” you asked.

“strawberry.” he replied.

“again?” he smiled.

“it reminds me of you.”

© wonbokkies on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize any of our works. likes and reblogs are appreciated !

send an ask if you'd like to be added to our permanent taglist!

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#☆ mi.🎧 #miso’s!!🍵 #boys planet masterlist. ★ #boys planet #han yujin #boys planet imagines #bp999 #boys planet 999 #han yujin fic #han yujin imagine #han yujin drabble #boys planet drabbles #boys planet fics #bp999 icons #yujin fic #yujin imagines #sung hanbin #boys planet fluff #fluff #han yujin fluff #boys planet mnet #boys planet yujin #boys planet x reader #han yujin x reader #zero base one #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader

[renata-has-thoughts]

I've never done an ask before so this might suck

There is little to no narrator x readers and your writing is the best I've ever seen!!!!

If you have spare time could you pretty please possibly make another narrator smut where he's all pent up desperate and whiny but then fucks fem reader as rough as he can?

Kinda friend's to lovers almost?

If it's stupid or embarrassing please ignore this request all together!

Outlet

Pairing: Tyler Durden (Narrator) x f!reader W/C: 1.6k

Includes: NSFW!Friends to lovers, rough sex, penetrative sex, mutual orgasm, and, as requested, pent up Tyler.

A/N: Stupid? Embarrassing? Anon, we have nothing to be ashamed of. The Narrator is hot, this is indisputable fact.

“So you’re telling me…you have a club…where you fight. That you’re in…” you muttered, punctuating your words by tapping the table between you two alongside your disbelieving words.

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded without further explanation, taking a sip of his drink as if he had said enough. As if this were a normal thing to say.

“Y’know, when you told me you couldn’t hang out because you had ‘a club meeting’ all those times, I thought it was something stupid-or more importantly, normal, like a book club…or chess club, or something. But here you are willingly going to get your ass beat every week.”

“Why are you assuming I’m the one losing the fights?” Tyler asked, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

You paused, and shrugged. Granted, he has become a lot more toned over these past few months. More prominent muscles, a bit more confidence, the like.

“Right. Well, to each their own, but…try not to get too hurt, alright? Don’t expect me to nurse you back to health.” You sighed, staring at your drink.

“I wouldn’t burden you with something like that.” Tyler said, finishing off his own drink. A moment of comfortable silence passed. You two were good friends, had been for awhile, so it never was awkward anymore.

“Why?” You asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Why do you fight? Why are you in that club?”

Tyler ran his finger along the rim of the empty bottle for a second, then replied, “it’s helpful, I guess. It’s an outlet.”

“As in, therapeutic?”

“Yeah. I mean, everyone has their ways of getting out that anger. Getting an adrenaline rush.” He explained, his eyes leaving yours, and added, “I guess some with actual therapy, yeah, or healthy things like writing or sex.” He didn’t look up, especially at that last part. You noted that he hasn’t had a girlfriend, or otherwise, in the whole time you’ve known him, which was a good amount of time. Then you realized, neither had you.

“I feel like there’s a difference between things like therapy, writing and such, and sex.” You said, and put your drink aside, with your final swig. Usually by now, during these afternoons where you’d meet up at your house for drinks, Tyler would say his goodbyes, but now he merely shifted back in his chair.

“Depends.” He mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, as in, it depends on the sex.”

“Why? Is fighting for you a substitute for sexual frustration?” You laughed, but partly a genuine question, too.

“Well it’s not like fighting gets me going or anything, but they both relieve a similar thing.”

A silence simmered yet again.

For once, it was awkward.

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex?” You questioned softly.

“…I dunno. …maybe a year by now.” He responded, meeting your eyes again.

You thought, and recalled that it had been the same amount of time of celibacy for you, too.

“Same here.” You admitted, and caught his gaze.

Yes. You were very much attracted to him. It’s no secret you two had flirted playfully, but it was nothing more than banter, right?

By the way he looked at you then, you could tell it was never that casual for him.

Suddenly, he looked away again, clearing his throat as if catching himself.

“Thanks for the drinks, as usual. Uhm, I should get going.” He said, rising from his chair.

You mirrored his actions, but then rounded the table to stand before him in a swift action.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Tyler.” You stopped him, grabbing his hand.

Something flashed in his eyes when you said that, like a prediction of your coming words.

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath when your other hand grabbed his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Tyler, I-I think you’re-“

“Say I can kiss you. Tell me to kiss you. Right fucking now.” Tyler interrupted, intertwining his fingers with yours. His eyes widened.

“Please.” You whimpered.

He tilted his head, eyes closing as he pressed his body to you, along with his lips to yours. It started small, drawing away for a second for him to breathe in before returning, open-mouthed this time, his tongue sliding next to yours. He moaned into the kiss, and soon so did you when his hand slid to slowly knead your waist.

You began shifting back, tugging him by his shirt while you broke the kiss, guiding him to your room.

“Tyler,” you explained as you headed to your bed, “get it out on me.”

“W-What?” He gasped as you let go of him to slide off your shirt.

“The tension. All that’s pent up in you.”

“Oh, fuck,” he whined under his breath upon seeing you now only in your bra. “Yeah, yeah, I…I can do that.” He nodded, swallowing down his nerves.

“I can take it, Tyler. Whatever you give me. I can take it.” You promised, staring into his eyes.

“Really?” He murmured again, still in that whiny tone.

“Yes.”

His breathing halted, then sped up, like a racehorse when the gun fires, he fumbled at his jeans, stripping them off. He pushed you down onto your bed and climbed on top of you, keeping a hand pressed down on you after he threw off his shirt.

“God, you’re so hot. I’ve always thought that,” Tyler rambled, tugging your pants off.

“Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of you?” You moaned while he rid you of the rest of your clothes, bra and all.

“Fuck, holy shit-don’t even-don’t even tease me like that. I don’t think I can g-get any harder than I am.” He exemplified this by taking off his boxers, leaving you both naked and panting already.

“Please, please use me,” you cried, gripping onto his shoulders.

“Want me to treat you rough? Huh?”

“Yes!”

Two fingers dipped down into you, smoothing along the wetness you had ever since he had mentioned the mere idea of sex.

You moaned loudly, not just by the feeling, but the fact it was Tyler. It was Tyler, of all people, fucking you. Finally.

His fingers left you to grab himself, pushing him into you steadily, groaning at the feeling of pressure around his cock, you easily inviting him, warm and slick.

“I knew you would f-feel so good. I knew it.” He whined, both hands groping your waist and pulling you down along into him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and your head rose to mouth desperately at his neck. That was his final breaking point.

He began thrusting into you, using every inch of his cock through your impossible tightness. It seemed like every part of you went numb except for the places he was hitting.

It was euphoric. It was Tyler fucking you. And he was fucking you good.

His breathing occurred through grit teeth and growls, his pace unyielding. The spots in which he was grabbing your waist to shove you into him while he thrusted would surely bruise in the morning, and your body got hot just by thinking about that.

Tyler shot one hand up to your neck, just under your jaw, and you gasped in surprise, although it was quickly drowned out by stuttered whimpers as he continued his abuses. His fingers prodded into your mouth, with his palm firmly on your neck. You took them in hungrily, licking and sucking on them, making him moan. His reaction was enough to make you shiver.

“You f-feel so good.” You managed through the obstruction of not only his fingers but the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yeah?” He promoted, removing his hand placement on your neck in favor of slotting his damp fingers above your clit. “You like it rough?” He growled, proceeding to change his quick thrusts to hard slams.

From the combination of everything he was doing, you felt sweat form on your brow.

“Tyler, I-I’m gonna cum,” you moaned.

“Yeah? Hm? Cum for me.”

“Don’t stop! Please, fuck, don’t-“

“Baby, I don’t plan on it.”

There it was. Your orgasm approached you with the same raging force as Tyler’s pace. Hot and dizzying. As he vowed, he did not stop, staying at the same speed despite the mumbling of curses under his breath, stammered ramblings of ‘so tight’, ‘yes, fuck yes’.

You couldn’t help but bite his neck as you let the remnants of your orgasm finish onto him. He groaned loudly as your teeth found purchase in his skin, and he pulled out just as your orgasm faded to grab his cock and guide himself through his orgasm, cumming onto your stomach with breathy whines, his composure shattering with each small sound.

You left a kiss on the mark you made on his neck, letting your head fall back onto the bed to look into his eyes, drained but still transfixed on you.

“Tyler? You there?” You smiled.

“Y-Yeah. Fuck.” He replied, catching his breath. “Are you alright?”

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had, Tyler.” You were saying that genuinely. “Of course I'm alright.”

His eyes seemed to light up, despite his exhaustion when you said that.

“Thank god.” He mumbled, lowering himself to lie by your side, running his hands through his hair to collect himself. “That was definitely the best for me, too.” His eyes fell closed.

“Could I ask you one more favor?”

“Sure, anything.” Tyler responded, opening his eyes again.

“Uhm…” you began, and gestured to your stomach, where he just came on.

“Oh! Right! Shit, sorry.” Tyler laughed, getting up from the bed and heading to your closet, grabbing his boxers along the way and sliding them back on.

You felt content in that moment. You first regarded your attraction to Tyler as frivolous and one-sided, yet now you watched him leaning down beside you, wiping you off with a washcloth and kissing your forehead.

#the narrator x reader #fight club smut #tyler durden smut #tyler durden x reader #the narrator smut

[lovelynim]

Losing Count

Genshin Impact - Alhaitham x Kaveh

A/N: So... if anyone is wondering where this came from, I found a fanart in Twitter that greatly inspired me. After two polls, here we are

Summary: After having his work out routine disturbed, Alhaitham decides to give Kaveh a challenge

Word count: 1279 words

“83… 84… 85… wow, you are really good at this!”

“You know….” Alhaitham grunted, pushing his body up despite the weight on his back, “you are not… really helping.”

Kaveh grinned at his boyfriend’s complaining, crossing one ankle after the other as he allowed himself to enjoy the ride. “Come on, how do you expect to gain something from your training if you don’t step up the difficulty?”

Alhaitham regretted all his past actions that led him to his current state. “Whatever… just keep… counting…”

He didn’t know why he agreed with all this. Maybe he just wanted to show off or tease Kaveh in some way… still, it was too late to go back on his words now and he didn’t even want to think about how annoying Kaveh would become if he gave up.

“Right right, where was I? Ah, yes, 66… 67-”

“You were… at 86…”

Kaveh chuckled again, feign ignorance as Alhaitham finished another push-up, “sorry, I keep losing count ~”

With the blonde sitting on his back, the scribe felt like his 100 push-ups session was being dragged for hours and hours in an unending cycle. And with Kaveh counting out loud - constantly going to and fro between the numbers - he was starting to believe that he had already beat that mark a long while ago.

“87… 88… 89- Huh? Come on, Haitham, you are so close!” Kaveh cheered, giving the other a couple of taps on his shoulder and thanking the archons the scribe couldn’t look at the grin in his face right now. 

Lying beneath him, Alhaitham was giving it his best efforts to tense the muscles in his arms again, but he was really starting to give it in. 

“Y-you are… too h-heavy…” he groaned, managing to get back up, adding one more to the count. 

“Hah?! Heavy?!” Kaveh gasped, acting as offended as possible, “just admit you are too weak to finish a session, Haitham.”

‘As if you could do half of it’, the other man thought as his boyfriend continued to talk. He just needed to ignore him a little longer and he could finally finish this endless session. “Just… keep counting, K-Kaveh…”

Tsking at his his boyfriend’s comment, the architect rested his hands on Alhaitham’s back to give himself some extra support. “Fine… where was I at? Right, 71… 72…” The smugness on his voice was clear, not even hiding the fact that he was messing up the count on purpose anymore.

The muscles of Alhaitham’s arms were already sore, his legs tired from the constant tension and drops of sweat falling off his forehead. Yet, Kaveh didn’t seem to mind his struggle, even amusing himself with it.

“What? Are you giving up?” Kaveh hummed in mockery, tapping his boyfriend’s shoulder as Alhaitham laid flat on the ground, with his arms sprawled next to his head. The scribe muttered something, but his words didn’t quite make it to Kaveh’s ears. “Hm? ‘You’ what?”

“I said… I’m. Done.” Alhaitham repeated, a little louder this time. Before he could alarm Kaveh any further, the scribe used the last bits of his strength to push his body up and make his partner fall off him.

Letting out an audible grunt as his butt hit the ground, Kaveh barely had time to react as Alhaitham rolled him over and sat on his back. “My turn now,” the scribe huffed with annoyance clear in his voice.

“W-wait, agh… I-I can’t!” Kaveh struggled beneath him, not able to move a single inch despite all his efforts.

“You don’t need to do 100, just 10. Or ‘are you too weak to finish a session’, Kaveh?” Alhaitham chuckled, enjoying the taste of revenge as he wouldn’t even bulge no matter how hard Kaveh tried to get up.

“Y-you are… too heavy, Haitham! Aghh, g-get off me!” 

“Only when you finish your session,” Alhaitham mused, placing his hands on Kaveh’s shoulder, “come on, start it already.”

Kaveh groaned in frustration, able to make far from enough strength to actually do a push-up. Truth to be told, he wasn’t even sure he could do it on his own, and with Alhaitham sitting on his back? He knew he didn’t stand a chance against that task.

“I already told you, I can’t!”

“Hmm,” Alhaitham muttered, looking down at Kaveh as an idea popped up in his head, “I believe you just need the right… incentive.”

Sliding his hands down Kaveh’s back, Alhaitham rested his thumbs over his boyfriend’s wing bones and dug at the blonde’s ribs with the rest of his fingers, making a high-pitched and surprised squeal leave Kaveh’s lips.

“AHALHAHAITAM!! AhahAHA, nohOHOH!!” Shrieking as if it was some kind of murder attempt, Kaveh pressed his elbows down to his sides, trying to protect himself from the merciless assault.

“Come on, do it. I’ll stop if you can finish the session,” Alhaitham muttered in a calm, uninterested tone. His words could barely be heard through the loud laughter as he prodded and poked, tickling Kaveh with ease.

The architect kicked his feet behind his boyfriend, squirming left and right like some kind of worm, but he couldn’t move a single inch with the scribe resting like an imobile boulder on his back. “Y-YOHOHOU! AhahAHAh, h-hohorrible mahAHAn! LEHEHET GO!”

“Keep talking and you’ll have to do 100,” Alhaitham scolded, clearly enjoying the turn of tables. Much to his surprise, Kaveh actually tried to do one push-up despite having his ribs mercilessly tickled by his boyfriend. Of course, he wouldn’t let that go without teasing, “you know, you need to keep your arms away from your torso if you want to do it properly.”

“S-stoHOHOp tahahalking!!” Kaveh whined, letting out another squeal when the Alhaitham used his index finger to poke his underarms. 

“I’m merely giving you some advice,” the scribe continued, letting out a lazy sigh as he continued the tickling, continuing to wiggle his fingers despite Kaveh’s attempts to block him, “you also need to keep your legs straight, otherwise you won’t do it right.”

Kaveh cried out softly through his laughter, resting his face against the floor as he could do nothing but laugh. All the (little) strength he had was leaving his body with each tickle. It almost made him regret messing with his boyfriend earlier, “I cahAHAn’t!! HAHahaitam, pleheHEHEHAhase!”

Despite his begging, Alhaitham didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. Stopping to move his fingers, but keeping them pressing against Kaveh’s oh-so-sensitive spots, the scribe leaned his face down, muttering a little close to the blonde’s ear. “Not so easy, right?”

“Y-yeheah! I g-gehehet it!!” Kaveh admitted, feeling as his whole body tensed with anticipation by having Alhaitham’s hands ready to strike at any moment, “I-i’m sohohorry, o-ok? Don’t b-be mehean!”

“Mean?” Alhaitham chuckled in a way that made Kaveh shiver. The architect had a bad feeling about this. “I only asked you for a 10 push-ups session, it’s not even the same thing…”

“A-AlhaithAHAHam!” Kaveh squealed as the scribe gave his ribs another squeeze, making his heart beat even faster than before. “N-nohOHo, please!”

“Let’s go for 5 then, is it better, Ka-veh?” Alhaitham mused, digging his finger in again and making another high-pitched and embarrassing noise come out of his partner. Waiting for Kaveh’s answer for his offer, Alhaitham raised his eyebrow as he felt his body moving up, noticing that Kaveh was actually doing it. 

“One…,” Alhaitham said once Kaveh’s arms were totally tense. After lowering his body, Kaveh’s body suddenly dropped back to the ground before he could finish the second push-up.

“ALHAHAITHAM! AHahah, n-nooho!” 

“Ah… sorry, I lost count, Kaveh,” Alhaitham muttered, smiling wickedly, “let’s start again, yes?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #ler!alhaitham #lee!kaveh #ticklish!kaveh #tickle fic

[emyluwinter]

Yuu and streams.

I've always wondered what if Yuu uses his smartphone to conduct simple amateur streams? Over time, they even gain a small popularity and audience. But no one at all can intelligibly say that such Yuu.

All their followers could find was that they study at Night Raven College, but their dorm is unknown to anyone. And there are ghosts there? Some particularly energetic followers sometimes build wild theories about the life of Yuu and about the life of ghosts.

Next I will write that Yuu is a girl. I'm so comfortable.

Yuu usually streamed her normal life. Washing dishes after dinner and cleaning the kitchen. A quiet place, with simple actions and some tired charm in every movement, something hooked everyone who accidentally stumbled upon this stream. No magic despite the fact that this is her uniform belongs to one of the famous colleges of magic. Occasionally she puts a gramophone nearby that can play the music you remember. (This thing is in the guest room in the game) This thing is so old that some go to search the Internet for what it is.

On some streams, Yuu cooks a recipe book for beginners or something a little more complicated.

-Add 4/1…w h a t ? - Yuu squints at the book in puzzlement and then her eyes blink in surprise.

Her expression changes to confused and confused. Leaving the spoon and the bag of butter on the table, Yuu takes the recipe book and turns it upside down, shaking it slightly along the way so that all the joking notes from the former owners of the recorded and enclosed scraps of paper fly out.

-Pretend you didn't see it.. - Yuu asks awkwardly, unable to hide her reddened ear tips from shame.

Having a habit of pronouncing his actions, Yuu tries to follow everything according to the recipe, occasionally adding one or another spice to his taste if it is permissible.

-Oh, what a delicious syrup. - Licking a drop of syrup that fell on her finger, Yuu thinks for a second and adds even less than a teaspoon to the pie mixture more.

At one of the not birthday parties. Cater suggested that Yuu make some settings for donations or the location of the chat for followers that Yuu can see live.

It all started with pretty simple and cute donations. 15 madols on a new sponge for dishes, because this follower can't look without pain at this horror with which Yuu washes plates.

45 madols for a new light bulb so that Yuu can use them for a new light bulb in the kitchen, without fear that the last working light bulb in the chandelier will burn out and have to cook by candlelight.

Grimm wanted to participate in this for a while, but he was so lazy to do anything after classes and a good dinner that he just slept peacefully or dozed next to Yuu while she was hosting.

Accustomed to the "definitely not feline" habits of the Grimm, Yuu did not even swear when he suddenly fell asleep in the middle or at the beginning of his work.

But the followers, Grimm definitely liked it.

Ace and Deuce definitely watched every Yuu stream if they weren't busy with club activities. Why? Because somehow even the mere sight of Yuu through the screen calmed them down and motivated them to continue their training.

Despite his completely "not sincere language", Ace left any emoticons under each stream of Yuu.

Deuce really liked doing homework in the living room of the dorm while watching Yuг stream along the way. His favorite streams were when Yuu was studying or cooking something. He could not explain why he could concentrate on studying on such days and better assimilate the material. In truth, both of them could not find the strength to overcome the desire to go right now to visit Yuг and Grimm and ask for a portion when the Prefect was cooking something delicious.

Trappola more than once ran away from his duties when Yuu made pies or buns, just for the sake of being the first to try them. He gets punished by Riddle, but in a lighter form because Ace "pays off Yuu's cooking"

He ends up doing double punishment anyway.

Often Deuce is also involved in this.

Yuu's followers just go crazy when they can't find a single song they hear on her streams. Someone even made recordings and sent them to local radio or music stations, but no one could give an answer to the name of the song or melody. Which is why there are even more theories.

Detective stories that she occasionally retells while Grimm finishes his homework. And as a reward receives the answer to the riddle. He definitely likes to feel this tension from the tightening mystery like a narrow bottleneck. And then swear that the solution was so obvious and he would have guessed if Yuu had given him more clues.

Some book clubs almost pulled out their last hair trying to find the name of the book or collection mentioned by Yu. But there is not one even close to what they heard from her.

Absolutely insane theories about who the Prefect of Yuu is are starting to go around on the Internet and Magikamе.

Her dorm? There is not a single official document that it was ever possible to find. There is not one of the accounts among College students who would be there. But absolutely EVERYONE could confirm that such a dorm REALLY EXISTS. And yes, the Prefect is a living person.

One day Yuu comes to one of the streams of the next donat "1000 madols. User xxxx2546 asks - Yuu are you some kind of forgotten deity or a lost child of a famous family?"

Of course, she is very flattered that she will be donated, mostly small amounts, but she definitely improves the hostel on them so she definitely won't complain. And never in his life will he tell Director Crowley about it.

After reading the text to the donation, Yuu quietly choked on air and laughed merrily covering her mouth with her palm. Her cheerful ringing laughter bounced off the old shabby walls and pale faded wallpaper, giving the room a more lively look at least for a moment.

-Forgotten deity?! Do you guys seriously think that I am….pf… Oh, I can't… - Yuu doubled over with laughter and then suddenly straightened up.

-First of all, thank you for your help, I can finally buy some pots. And secondly….what nonsense is this?!I'm not a forgotten deity, I don't even have magic…look here..

Standing in a ridiculous hero pose, Yuu points to the window with his index finger.

-Let there be thunder and lightning! Hdysch! - having invented the ridiculous sound of the spell, Yuu jumps on the spot when thunder begins to rumble loudly on the street so much that the glass in the window frames vibrates and the room is illuminated by a thunderbolt.

Biting his lip, Yuu awkwardly looks at the camera. Now she definitely won't be able to reason with some of the people who watch her.

-I swear to you…..it's not me….

Suddenly realizing something, Yuu again makes a ridiculous pose and hand gesture.

-I want to become rich!

But nothing happens, except that the thunder and lightning increase.

-Oh, come on….it's not fair. I only know one who could….Oh shit!

Running up to the window and quickly opening it, Yuu leans out of the window and shouts loudly to someone on the street.

-Tsunotaro, please let's not rain today! I just hung up all the laundry!!!

Suddenly, the whole storm subsides and the chat just blows to shreds from text and messages. Yuu looks at his phone even more confused.

-I don't think I can explain it to you for sure….

I think that Vil also makes streams from time to time. Because he is a media personality and he needs to maintain his level.

So on one of the streams, several of his followers notice a terribly familiar interior and furnishings that they have definitely already seen somewhere.

-Schoenheit I brought you tea as you requested.. - a quiet voice-over is heard in the room while Vil continues his stream.

-Oh, thank you, put it on the table, please.

The chat begins to fill up with questions whether it could be someone from the staff or college students. And what kind of relationship they have with a celebrity.

Behind Schoenheit, a small figure in an apron can be seen placing a tray with a cup and a small teapot on a table behind the place where the model is sitting. The face does not get into the frame. And the chat is even more crazy.

-Is there anything else you need? - again an unfamiliar and quiet voice for everyone.

-Yes, here is a list of what we talked about earlier. And don't forget the ointment.- Schoenheit puts some paper in her hand with a plaster on the brush.

-Okay, I get it. Thank you, that helped a lot from the burn.

A few days later, on Yuu's stream, some people notice the same hand with a Band-Aid and the same paper in her hands.

"150 madols. user xxxx45461 asks - what happened to your hand?"

-Oh thank you, oh…. a trifle I burned myself in class today. I've already been given a good ointment so it's okay. Today there will be a short stream because I will need to do a lot of tasks from the list. And it's secret.

A huge wave is now pouring into the piggy bank of theories about the origin of Yuu, what kind of relationship she may have with the most famous Schoenheit model. Magikame buzzes like a pterodactyl from all the most impossible and ridiculous options.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst yuu #disney twst #twst mc #disney twisted wonderland #twsited wonderland #twst yuu stream

[shirefantasies]

Hello again! I have another request that came to me as I was submitting a different one. How do you think Thorin's or the LOTR companies would react to reader having a buzzcut. Especially for dwarves who pride themselves in long intricately done hair and braids. Would they think something bad must've happened to the reader for them to have short hair. Cue misunderstandings and fluff, with maybe hair petting(buzzcuts are super soft!) Hope this sounds interesting enough to do, have a good day again! :)

(I literally lied on my last post THIS is my last pre-op post by the 45 minutes left before my operation appointment)

Heck yeah friend I love this! I don’t quite have a buzzcut but my hair’s far shorter than the average lady’s & definitely so for a dwarf, so I wonder about this too 😁 hope you enjoy 🥰 Warnings: a little violence in one reaction, injury mention in another

Thorin’s Company When You Have a Buzzcut

Balin

“You’re causing quite a stir with everyone, you know that?” Giving a chuckle at Balin’s cheeky look, you lean forward with your chin upon your hand. “And why is that?” “At risk of offense,” the older dwarf answered, “they all want to know what happened to your hair.” “Yourself included,” you shot back with a grin, “or else you’d not be asking.” Taken aback, Balin stutters a bit. “Ah, well, I confess I am a bit curious, after all. Reminds me of when my brother first took all his off. What a stir over something so silly. Do what you like, I was just wondering if Dwalin was trying to get you all painted up too.” “Not yet,” your smile softens and you give him a wink, “but if he does you’ll be the first to know. Ahead of all the sensation.”

Dwalin

You start the conversation on this one, seeing that Dwalin is the other company member with little to no hair upon his head and considering it a bonding opportunity. “Well, I’ve got a reason,” he shoots back to your comment of similarity, arms crossed but expression teasing, “what’s yours? You need some tattoos up there at least.” “No thank you,” you tell him, “if I’m adding any tattoos it won’t be on top of my head! Feel how soft it is up here.” Dwalin looks at you, prompting you to take his hand and put it on top of your head, his eyebrows raising at the sensation. And perhaps because touching one’s hair is a much closer and more intimate thing for him than perhaps you realize. You are quite forward, aren’t you?

Thorin

Pays little mind to how you wear your hair…or lack thereof. In fact, by your appearance he gauges you to be a warrior of some kind, thus taking command of your actions in a fight and seeking proof of your prowess. Before your first encounter with a threat the king’s questions are more along the lines of “What is your weapon of choice?” and “From where in these lands do you hail?” The day the company fights a pack of orcs, you manage to take down more than Thorin expected and at one point, you even jump in front of Dori to parry before a potentially deadly strike takes him off guard. Rising from the struggle of battle, black blood splattered across your layers and even your shaven head, you feel a hand upon your shoulder. Thorin. "It can be hard for us to look beyond our own kin," he tells you, "but you have well proven yourself today. We may not always understand each other, but there is a beauty in that, too, I see."

Oin

Wincing despite your gratitude, you shifted in your seated position while Oin packed the poultice into the wound your side had suffered. "Don't worry, you'll go numb in a bit. If it stings, that is quite alright, that simply means you are getting clean again." Thanking him through heavy breaths, you watched as the dwarf reached a hand up toward your head, running a hand over the soft, shorn little bit of cover it had. "And this one's healing quite nicely, quite nicely indeed. Why, I cannot even see the scar!" The sting in your bloody side faded down a bit as you tilted your head to fix Oin right in the eyes. "What scar?" "Did they not have to sew up your head at some point? Figured that's why they shaved you down," he answered, finally removing his hand from your head. You giggled at that, regretted stretching yourself at a new, though much smaller, arc of pain. "No, my dear Oin, I am afraid the only thing my head has suffered is my typical madness," you teased, waving your hands mystically and grinning at the way the healer laughed.

Gloin

"Pardon me, my dear," your name rolled smoothly off Gloin's tongue as he shuffled forth, hands folded in front of him in the picture of innocence. Oh, this was going to be good. "Yes?" You indulged him, swiveling to give your full attention. The auburn-haired dwarf pointed to his head, his own flowing locks. "What happened t'yer hair?" Perhaps sheepishly, his voice suddenly quickened. Feeling your eyebrows involuntarily raise, you tilted your head- this was not exactly what you’d expected, after all. “I cut it,” you shrugged, “got tired of how it was before. Simply wanted a new beginning, you could say.” Gloin’s eyes never left yours. “So no accident?” “No.” “Ha!” The dwarf bellowed, waggling a hand at his brother and a small scattering of company members a ways back. “I was right! By choice! Now pay up and remember I told ya it was worth the risk!” Shaking your head, you playfully smack him on the shoulder. “I’d better get a cut from this, you ol’ scallywag!”

Bifur

Catching Bifur signing, you turn his way, seeing the motions he performs by his head. “Did you cut your hair yourself?” You realize he is asking. “No,” you sign back, “another did it for me.” “You must trust them a great deal.” Simple enough words signed and yet there is something in the way his eyes shine, the fond inquisition in his smile, that brings a little shock of joy to you. Barring royal dressings, it was far more common for one to do their own hair or entrust it to a loved one, and you could see intimacy in the act. It almost brought a pang of regret that it was just some small-town hairdresser that sheared it at your asking and payment. Your hands freeze for a moment as your eyes search Bifur before you finally sign a response. “I suppose. Perhaps if you ever want to do something different with your hair, I could help you, too.”

Bofur

A mix between caring and teasing, he offers you cover! “Your head looks cold. Need to borrow my hat?” Thinks he’s so funny he laughs at his own joke whether you roll your eyes or joke back. “But really, any particular reason you took it all off?” "It was uncomfortable having it long," you admit, "I was tired of it all being in my face." The way everyone spoke of dwarven culture, you half expect disapproval, but this is Bofur you speak of. Instead he nods acceptingly, smiling in that way that always has you feeling seen and reassured. "I understand that." "You do?" "Sure I do! Why do you think I keep mine braided out to the sides like this?" At that, you smile back. "Besides," he continues, "helps me see all the best sights. The trees, the flowers, that smile of yours..."

Bombur

“Singe all your hair off?” Bombur nods sagely despite the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. “I’ve been there. Burned my beard leaning too far over the stove.” You can’t even correct him right away because you’re too busy laughing. Finally, though, you explain to him that your hair was simply so unhealthy it needed to start over. “Ah, I see, I see! Trying to take better care of it, then?” At that, you nod. He looks at you with new interest, eyes shining eagerly. “So what would you like to do with it next? I’ve got some things you might like to put in it, and I think it would look mighty nice if you wanted to try…”

Dori

"Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," Dori remarks one day, rolling blue eyes illuminated beneath the sun that peeked between the branches. Shifting carefully so as to not disturb your pony, you turned back to face him. "Do what?" "Cut all my hair off just to save some time in the morning!" He replied with a wave of a hand in your general direction. Chuckling, you gave a conceding nod. "I suppose you would gain back an hour, wouldn't you?" At that, it was Dori's turn to laugh. "But then again," you continued, "then you couldn't wear as many of those nice clips and cases. That is one thing I miss about having it all." Puffing up like a proud little bird, Dori smiled. "They are quite nice, aren't they? You know, if you ever get so bored you're tempted to let it all come back, I could make you some of your own."

Nori

Abrasive as it was, Nori's question found you in a way that raised such amusement you forgot to be upset with him entirely, instead simply falling back with a bark of laughter before you answered. "Looks like you're tryin' to hide your identity. You on the run from someone?" He continued musing, in fact, as you laughed. "Law somewhere? A scorned lover? Simply run off with something too valuable not to do that?" Finally, your voice returned. "All this because I've sheared my head down?" You burst out incredulously. "Ever consider," you gasped in mock-scandal, "I like it like this?" "Sure, but that's not exciting," Nori shot back with a smirk, "I like a good story." "Well," you crossed your arms, "perhaps I still have some of those, too."

Ori

Shuffling up to you was the youngest dwarf in the company, sweet Ori; Ori was one of the dwarves who accepted outsiders most readily, and you spent plenty of time at his side watching his drawings and records come to life. That day, though, what was in his hand was not his book, rather a bundle of fabric. "I made this for you." Eyes widening, you extend your hands to accept the soft knitting, peering back at Ori. "I thought your head must get cold," he explained his craft as you unfolded it, revealing a thick, sturdy cap you immediately began pulling onto your head, "does it fit?" Yarn hugging your head perfectly, you nodded. "It's just my size. Thank you." Before he could speak again, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me in some time. Thank you."

Fili

“One of my braids came undone. Kili?” The younger Durin prince seemingly did not hear the request for his presence, so you stepped forward. “I can help.” Goggling at you, Fili posed a question. “Do you even know how?” Hand falling to your hip, you shot him a look. “Though I may not possess them myself, I am quite capable of doing them up.” The golden-haired dwarf looked sheepish, a bit of the mischief fading from his blue eyes. “Suppose I assumed you didn’t much enjoy doing them either,” he told you with a nod toward your head. “Well,” a teasing smile drifted across your face, “I certainly would…unless you are scared.” You were no fool. You knew how the Durins were with challenges. And if you remembered correctly, you knew how dwarves were with braids…

Kili

He cares some of the least out of the dwarves being the least traditionally presenting himself. He’s sort of the type to be a little attracted to everyone, enjoying the unique traits of all types of people. You still cannot help being a bit surprised when he flirts with you, though, not expecting someone with a cut like yours to catch his eye or draw his teasing. “Not one for a courting braid, I see? No one worthy of putting one on you, no doubt.” For all his jesting questions, he never actually demands an answer, though. Instead he simply launches into a story about a haircut prank he pulled with his older brother once to keep light conversation flowing. “Well, by the end of it our uncle looked quite like you! Except he didn’t pull it off half as well.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins | Let me know if you'd like to join!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #thorin’s company #thorin’s company x reader #balin #dwalin #thorin #oin #gloin #bifur #bofur #bombur #dori #nori #ori #fili #kili #ask #letmelickyoureyeballs #requested

[ebullient-beauty]

- - - fuck you dumber - - -

aged up mike wheeler x bimbo cheerleader reader warnings for the series: agedup!mike wheeler, smut, swearing, nsfw warnings for the preview: agedup!mike wheeler, swearing, references of sexual actions, nsfw

preview: Mike Wheeler, aka Wheeler Boy, was elated. He had recently gotten to be Dungeon Master during a Hellfire meeting, he was doing good in school, but best of all, he had a fucking hot girlfriend. You were one of the most popular girls at Hawkins High, being part of the cheer team helped with that, but that wasn't why. It was because you were… sexy and you fucking knew it. So you dressed like it too. Short skirts, deep V-necks, almost everything being some shade of pink, and every once in a while you wore that dress that was so small you had to wear shorts underneath.

But Mike loved it. He loved seeing you feel at home in the spotlight, he loved overhearing you talk about him to your cheerleader friends, he loved when you called him over to the popular people table, "Wheeler Boy! Get over here!", and loved when he got to sit next to you while you made it obvious to the jocks sitting near that you were off limits. But what he loved a whole lot was that fact that sometimes (most of the time, actually) you would tease him for the full school day and then get him off or let him fuck you the second you guys went home.

You only ever teased Mike for a day, knowing how he got when unfulfilled, but you had decided 3 days ago that you would try to torture him for as long as possible so he would fuck you the way you really wanted. He had only ever done you like that one time before, when he went a full 2 weeks without seeing you because he was in California. When he got back- let's just say you could not walk correctly for a full day. But he had left you craving for it, for that feeling where you knew he held absolutely nothing back from you.

You had your wonderful idea planned to the T and written in your notebook, and tomorrow was the day you would put it into action. You knew to play your cards right, you couldn't make it obvious that you were teasing him relentlessly. So the plan was as follows:

Thursday- Day One: Excuse of not meeting with him after school is that I have cheer practice and after family dinner, then off to bed.

Friday- Day Two: Excuse of not meeting with him after school is that he has Hellfire and by the time it's over, I'm "too tired".

Saturday & Sunday- Days 3 & 4: I'm out of town with my parents for a family gathering at Aunt Rosie's house.

Monday- Day 5: Excuse is that I have cheer practice and after I'm going to Cathy's house to study and sleep over.

Tuesday- Day 6: Basketball game that I'm required to attend, because cheerleader, duh and we leave during last period.

Wednesday- Day 7: Cheer meet after school and then all the girls and I are having a sleepover party at Nicole's house

Thursday- Day 8: Plan for Armageddon Wheeler Boy

And that was all you had. After a week of torturing your poor boyfriend, you didn't know whether it could go on past that. You sighed in exhilaration, opening the drawer on your nightstand, and slipping in the journal before shutting it closed. As you laid in bed, all you could think was that this is gonna be fun.

part 1 [unavailable atm] part 2 [unavailable atm] part 3 [unavailable atm] part 4 [unavailable atm] part 5 [unavailable atm] part 6 [unavailable atm] part 7 [unavailable atm] part 8 [unavailable atm]

DM me or reply to a post to be added to the taglist!

[mike wheeler] taglist: @riouri @marsneo @clonewifey49 @m1ke-wheeler @madtheivery @b0kutoswaifu @w-wheeler @littletroublegirl444 @agustdeeyaa @smileyswifeyy @im-better-than-your-newborn @vl-p @doingurmom69 @elainavmarie @kingsmanperfecthartwin @lovelycm @joekeeryhoe @dontforgetabtdharms @justbreeisfine

[fuck you dumber] taglist: @riouri @dragonsvelour @morganasimp26 @strawberrykittyv @luv4mike @whitemanswhore101 @shawtyasf1 @lovenotesxo @givemehickeysplease @mikewheelersactualgf @angelar4 @sspikey69 @buckys-slave @sunflower-120 @justmsstuff @tsukishimawhore @tragicdiary @okjaeminn @trashmouth-munson-thingss @grffdbicv @bucket-hat-bestie @runninngyouth @smodgie @uhmislaigs-blog @hdhdhdhdhs-stuff @prom1es @xxxjaexx @nicciekawegosblog @pytbasha888 @yoirfriendlyneigborhoodfairy @dayntplanet @ilovemitskii @riiikaaa @turtleshroooms @smileyswifeyy @sappynappysworld @vl-p @str4nd3d-lull4by @yourleastfavx @ady-hilborn @strxvnge @miiikkeey @raquel12 @mushroomsoup1920 @doingurmom69 @renssonly @viixen01 @irinity @elainavmarie @justlillythinking @kingsmanperfecthartwin @cybergiirl @justbreeisfine @222micah222 @bigwhore4levi

#redredredredred #want me dead #never again #mike wheeler smut #mike wheeler x you #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x y/n #mike wheeler fluff #mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler oneshot #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

[builtbybrokenbells]

22 with Danny 🥹

Doing each others hair

w/c: 2k

pairing: danny x reader

warnings: showering together but no smut, fluff 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!! ♥️

Prompt list here

The main door of your home opened, sending a jolt of panic through you. You weren’t expecting Danny to be home so soon, and your current state was very much reflective of that. Half of your hair was tied up, and the bottom half was doused in hair dye, although, admittedly, very poorly. You had greatly underestimated the dedication it would take to dye your own hair, and your arms were growing more tired by the second. Plus, it didn’t help that you couldn’t quite see what you were doing. The bleaching was an easy process, it didn’t take long and you still had motivation while you were doing it. Once you rinsed it out and blow dried, the mood shifted. You were hungry, tired, and ready to give up on your mission.

You expected to be finished by the time Danny returned home, but the process was taking longer than anticipated. When his footsteps echoed down the hall, you realized that it might just be easier to ask him to help, rather than to send him away. “Y/n?” He asked, nearing the door to the bathroom.

“In here,” you replied, loud enough so he could hear you over the music playing. “Come in.” You added, awaiting the door opening. After a moment, it did. He peeked his head around to get a look at you before he stepped inside. When he caught sight of the scene, he was met with a one that he certainly wasn’t expecting.

“What uh… what are you doing?” He asked, a smile on his lips and a small laugh following the question.

“Baking a cake.” You rolled your eyes. He chuckled, fully stepping inside.

“You need some help?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed. “My arms are killing me.” You set the brush down inside the bowl of red dye and turned to look at him. He lifted your chin, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips while being cautious about touching the dye. You carefully slipped off your gloves, motioning for him to give you one of his hands. When he did, you put it on him. He gave you his other hand so you could do the same.

He grabbed the brush, dipping it in the dye and positioned himself behind you. He was already aware of the process. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped you out, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You were quite keen on changing your hair up every so often, and in a true boyfriend fashion, Danny was always willing to lend a helping hand. “Red this time?” He asked, slowly applying the colour to your freshly bleached hair.

“Yeah, haven’t had it in a while. I thought it would look cool.” You shrugged.

“It will,” he agreed. “I like it already.” You smiled at his statement. He was always so accepting of anything you did, and made sure to cheer you on while you did it. He was the best boyfriend, and there was no arguing that fact. You had already done most of the work; he only needed to touch up the parts closest to your scalp. He worked in almost silence aside from an occasional comment. He finished it up with ease and placed the brush back in the bowl. He gently arranged the dyed portion on top of the towel you had draped across your shoulders. “All done.” He informed you.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to face him. He smiled down at you, just happy to finally get a good look at your face. That was something you loved about him; no matter what you looked like, or how much disarray you were in, he always looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world; like he was so lucky just to be able to be near you.

“Anytime, bug.” He replied, removing the gloves from his hands. Once they were safely on the counter, he grabbed you by the waist and gently guided you into him. He leaned down, giving you a proper kiss. You held him there for a moment, content with the action and realizing how much you’d missed him all day. When you parted, he gazed over your shoulder and looked to the dye that was still left. “What are you gonna do with the rest of it?” You turned, looking quickly at what he was referring to. You pondered, unsure of what you could use it for. You’d overestimated the amount by a little, leaving just enough to make you feel guilty about throwing it away.

An idea sprung to mind, eyes lighting up and a mischievous grin spreading across your cheeks. You turned back to him, letting your gaze fall on the blonde streaks that ran through his mess of dark curls. You reached up, finding a highlight that ran underneath his hair, hidden mostly from initial view. You looked to meet his eyes, just to find him already watching you. “We could match?” He let out a small laugh, already knowing what you were thinking before you said it. “Just an idea.”

“Yeah, why not.” He shrugged. “Just one, though.”

“Of course.” You nodded, feeling the excitement bubble within you. He’d never let you do anything to his hair before, but at the same time, you’d never really asked. “You sure?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah.” He assured you. “I think it would be cool. And I’d get to match with you, so that’s even cooler.” You felt a blush dust across your cheeks. Even after years of dating, he still managed to make you blush. Even after so much time, you often still felt the nervousness and giddiness of the crush you had on him all those years ago. You hoisted yourself up on the edge of the countertop with your hands so you could sit. Once you were secure in your position, you guided him towards you.

“Take your shirt off.” You said, grabbing the dish of dye. He did as he was told, throwing it on the floor. Your eyes drifted to his now exposed torso, finding your heart speed in your chest.

“Like what you see?” He teased, a smile still stuck on his lips.

“Always.” You breathed, no tone of joking present. Instead of lingering on the topic, you moved most of his hair around to one shoulder, securing it there with the elastic you had around your wrist. Carefully, you separated one streak of blonde. “You can still back out, you know.”

“I’m okay.” He laughed. “It’s just hair.” You couldn’t argue the point with him, because you always said the same thing. Without any further hesitation, you started applying the colour to his hair, too. It only took a few moments to completely saturate the hair, as it was only a tiny amount. Once you finished, you placed the dish back on the counter once more. You shifted slightly, pulling him into you a little bit further. You wrapped your arms around him, enveloping him in a hug. He looked down, careful as to not disrupt any of the hair that was processing the colour, and placed a kiss to your forehead. “How long do we have to wait?”

“‘Till it’s ready.” You hummed, cheek pressed against his bare chest.

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.” He laughed.

“About thirty minutes.” You said, closing your eyes and appreciating the warmth of his body. “How was your day?”

“Less exciting than yours.” He teased, fingers tracing small patterns into your lower back. “Lots of meetings, preparing for the next tour.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mumbled, your grip on him tightening a little bit.

“So you just decided you needed a change?” He asked.

“Yeah, got bored.” You explained, but he was well aware of your constant need to change up your hair. Over the years, it became normal for him to come home to the bathroom in complete disarray with coloured hair dye and towels all over the place. Often times, he ended up having to finish the job for you, but he never once complained. You thought the change kept things exciting, and he was always happy to see you happy. Plus, he’d think you were the most beautiful person in the world, even if you had no hair. He was in love with you no matter what, and proved it further every day that passed.

Minutes went by, filled with small chatter and many stolen kisses. When the time came to rinse the dye out, both of you thought it was easier to hop in the shower together. You stepped in first, the warm water instantly relaxing you. He let you enjoy the warmth for a moment before he helped you wash the colour from your hair. Once the majority was out, he searched for your shampoo and poured some on his hand. “C’mere.” He beckoned you towards him. You did so, allowing him the opportunity to lather the soap throughout your hair. He did it in a much more gentle manner than you would have, and took some extra time to massage your scalp, easing the tension in your head. Once he was satisfied with the amount of bubbles that had formed, he took it upon himself to try to form your hair into a giant spike at the top of your head.

“Stop,” you giggled, trying to push his hands away.

“No, hold on. I almost have it.” He pleaded. You stopped trying to fight it, in no way able to stay annoyed at him when he looked so happy. After a few moments, he managed to get it to stay up somewhat well. “There. It’s perfect.” He said in triumph. He only admired it for a moment before it inevitably fell. He didn’t dwell on the disappointment, wasting no time guiding you back into the water and washing it out for you. The beauty of the bare intimacy without the intent of anything sexual was overwhelming.

Once the shampoo was washed out, he carefully combed some conditioner through the ends of your hair. You stepped out of the way of the shower head, letting it sit for a few minutes. “Your turn.” You said with a smile. He stepped back into the water, wetting his hair and trying to maneuver himself down so you could comfortably reach his head. You did the same thing he’d done for you, leaving out the mohawk bit, and allowed him to wash the soap away. When it came time for the conditioner, you took extra time coating his hair and combing through the knots. Once you finished, he only gave you enough time to rinse your hands off before he was pulling you into a hug.

“I love you,” he hummed, guiding your face up so he could kiss you.

“I love you.” You mumbled against him, eyes closed in bliss. You both sat for a while, caught in an embrace neither of you wanted to break. Eventually, you parted and finished washing yourselves, then stepped out of the shower. You wrapped yourselves in towels, finding yourselves gravitating back to each others hold. “Thanks for helping me.” You mumbled, face once again pressed to his chest.

“I’ll always help you, bug. That’s what I’m here for.” He said, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Plus, I got a pretty cool hairstyle out of it, too.” You could feel him smile against you.

“We match.” You added, looking towards the steam streaked mirror. You lifted your hand, picking out the thin lock of red hair from his curls. “When you’re gone on tour, you won’t be able to forget me, now.” He let out a scoff, completely dismissing your comment.

“Like I could ever forget about you.” He pulled you a little bit closer, just to show you he meant what he said. “But, we do look super cool.”

“The coolest.” You agreed. “Everybody will be so jealous.” He laughed at your statement, nodding in agreement.

“I love you so much.” He whispered. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He ran his fingers through the freshly dyed hair.

“I love you,” you smiled. “And I have to admit, you look quite nice, too.” He pulled you into another kiss, both of you completely content by just being in each others arms. You knew that it would always be your happiest place, because you were certain you’d never find anyone else who was so willing to join in on your crazy ideas.

•

god i love danny he’d be such a good bf, always supportive and nice and sweet and i just love him sm :(

#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #danny wagner #jake gvf #sam kiszka #gvf fic #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner imagine #danny wagner fic #danny wagner fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet blurb #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf imagine #gvf fanfiction #gvf x reader #gvf blurb #gvf fluff #danny wagner blurb #builtbybrokenbells #josh Kiszka #anon <3 #gvf fandom

[torhues]

suna rintaro.

w : suggestive, probably some mistakes idk

something about suna makes you nervous.

you can't point what it is, but something about him has you lost amidst a hundred different thoughts. it could be because of his eyes, the way they seem ever so uninterested and yet, seem to capture every single detail. maybe, it's the way he speaks, his voice, the tone, the faint smirk that always resides on his face for no apparent reason except adding more to his facial features. or perhaps, it's in the way his hands settle on your waist.

you don't know how you ended up on his lap.

the last thing you remember is coming out of shower and, his amused grimace when he saw you in the t-shirt he gifted you on your birthday. suna looked more surprised watching you wear the minimalistic piece of clothing instead of the subtle realisation of the fact that this is the first time you're wearing it in seven months. he tells you how well it suits you and how nicely you pull it off, says it would look even better if you pair it with wide bottom jeans. he offers to help you dry your hair, which isn't odd at all since you both have been used to drying each other's hair, sharing clothes— which is mostly on your side— letting the other person stay over. it's a blessing to have a friend who's willing to share everything.

suna thinks you look pretty. you smell like citrus and rosemary, it's as if you glow even more under the dim yellow lights of his living room. but you look pretty all the time— in suna's mind, there isn't a moment when he didn't associate your image with all the adjectives one could use to compliment someone. though all that aside, suna thinks your shirt looks prettier. it fits you so well, just ever so perfectly; it looks so pretty that suna now wants to take it off.

and you end up on his lap, you don't know how you got here. you can't seem to remember it. the hair drier is lying astray on the couch, the towels on the floor, a faint sound of his phone ringing up breaks through the decorum and his hands tighten around your waist to have your attention back to him. for a second, you consider getting away, for he's your friend, best friend, someone you've shared the most intricate and important moments of your life with, maybe it's the fear of losing something that's keeping you on your tip-toes, but all those thoughts evaporate out of your mind the moment his fingertips brush against the bare skin under your t-shirt.

your hands are around his neck, his lips are barely inches away from yours, your eyes refuse to leave contact with his; your breath hitches, suna makes you nervous. his hands travel further up your skin, leaving transparent patters all along, and it's as if his actions solely managed to get a control of your conscience, because you lean in closer to him, cupping his cheeks before brushing your thumb against his lips.

it seems as if suna has won again.

he pulls you closer as if you weren't already close enough, as if the two of you weren't impossibly close to be any more closer, but he manages to make it happen. while his one hand continues to rest on your back, the other one ghosts up your waist and lands on your thigh, immediately prompting you to exhale deeply. it's not your first time being in such close proximity with someone, but something about suna makes it feel exactly like the very first time you fell for someone. something about him is so intriguing that it makes you drop all your worries about what your actions may lead to, compelling you to give into your desires.

something in the way he looks at you is so ravishing that your hands grab the ends of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head before it's discarded in some corner of your room like any other piece of unnecessary stuff lying around. you look at suna, your breathe gets caught up in your lungs.

you don't think he can get any prettier.

your fingers skim against his collarbones like feathers, suna closes his eyes in satisfaction. you didn't know he had such beautiful layers of expressions under the nonchalant grimace that always masks his face. the nervousness wrapped around your fingers starts to dissolve, his grips against your thigh, you lean into his touch, and suna has been trying his best to not kiss you breathless, but he can't control anymore.

he tilts his head towards you, eyes on your lips. it freezes you in your stance. you gulp, leaning in closer, there's hesitation dripping through the cracks on your skin and it seeps under his skin. you lean in further, letting his warm breath fan against your lips. a second passes, you wait for him to take a lead, but you know something's up.

"rin," you whisper against his lips.

and suna backs out. "let's do this when you're ready,"

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintaro #haikyuu suna #haikyuu fic #suna fic #haikyuu fluff #suna fluff #haikyuu drabbles #suna drabble #haikyuu headcanons #suna headcanons #hq suna #haikyuu imagines #suna imagines #haikyuu #BEST FRIEND SUNA? BEST FRIEND SUNA #im so down bad for best friend suna like give !! me !! more #oikawa im sorry i swear i still love u