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harlowcomehome · 2 months

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Our first place:

Series link!

It had been two months since you and Jack had moved in together, and more than half of your things were still in boxes. You were growing increasingly frustrated feeling like you were losing track of what box held specific items.

Your Christmas tree was still up despite it being weeks past and you felt overwhelmed by the disarray of your apartment. Jack wasn’t a slob by any means but he definitely made the place look more “lived in” than you.

You couldn’t blame him for the mess and it wasn’t your fault either, life had been a whirlwind for the both of you. Spending most nights in another state, another hotel, and still trying to have some form of privacy.

Jack had been nominated for two Grammy awards, was featured on the cover of Forbes magazine and was also awarded with hitmaker of tomorrow with Variety.

The celebrations and jet-setting rarely stopped, making your head continuously spin.

Fans grew suspicious of the new woman on his team, suddenly traveling everywhere with him and overanalyzing every glance you’d make at one another. The two of you giggled as you scrolled through Reddit posts and Twitter posts. Never confirming or denying it felt more organic, letting this just be.

The talks of making a big move about going public with your relationship were quickly swept under the rug, and the pressure felt less intense now that you were touring with him and traveling full-time together.

Christmas was hectic, having spent half your time in Kentucky and the other half bringing Jack back home for the first time. It was beyond overwhelming. Your family gravitated toward him and fell in love with him quickly, seeing the glimmer in your eyes as you looked at him was enough for them to know this was in fact the real deal.

However, since getting home from your trip you felt a disconnect between the two of you, an unspoken distance. Neither of you wanted to touch the subject and it was giving you an unfamiliar ache in your chest. You were finally at your breaking point, feeling out of control was never your strong suit.

The front door of your place opened and Jack came barreling inside with Urban, Copelan, and his producer Angel. The three of them bounced final ideas off one another, as you gave them a limp wave and rushed to hide in the bedroom.

Jack immediately sensed your discomfort, leaving the guys to the living room to eat lunch as he followed you into the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The sound of your audible sobs stopped him in his tracks, a wave of immediate guilt came over him. The sight of you sitting on the carpeted floor of your walk-in closet broke his heart.

“Fuck- baby. Talk to me” he kneeled, holding you as you cried into his chest. You didn’t know how to begin, or where to start explaining because right now it felt like everything was wrong, every single thing.

You coughed, trying to catch your breath, embarrassed that you had reacted this intensely, embarrassed you now had an audience, and mortified he had to excuse himself to pick up the pieces.

“You’re going to make yourself sick. Let’s try breathing exercises, okay?” He pulled you away to look at you, his blue eyes filled with emotion too. He helped you take deep breaths, sitting with you as you tried to regain composure.

Urban sent him a quick text, letting him know they were leaving to his place that was just down the street, having been able to tell immediately that you were upset.

“After we took that trip to Kentucky, I feel like everything between us has been off. I feel like you’re being distant and the apartment is always in shambles. “ You shrugged trying to hold back tears “I’m overwhelmed and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells because your career is everything to you, and I get that! I do!” Your voice was heightened, growing emotional and defensive again.

He blinked away his instinctive frustrations having heard that last sentence. “My career is important to me. You’re right but it’s not everything. It’s not everything to me. You are, this is” he grabbed your warm hands, kissing them as he held them in his.

“Then talk to me? What’s going on in there?” You sniffled, lightly tapping on his head playfully making the tension dissipate as you both chuckled.

He sat down more comfortably on the ground, leaning against the wall as he motioned for you to come sit with him. You scooted closer as he spread his legs for you to sit between them, facing him.

He was working on becoming more vulnerable, something he found difficult with most people but you made it easier, lighter even.

“This next album is going to change things for us. Being home put a lot into perspective and-“ he sighed, still worried about your reaction to what he wanted to say.

“Talk to me, I’m listening” You brushed his beard with your fingers, comforting him and encouraging him to continue.

“I know we just moved in together, and I know we still haven’t settled in completely so what I want to say sounds selfish and I don’t want you to think that every move we make is because I want to make it” he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

“You want to move to Kentucky?” You knew he did, without the words being spoken yet. You saw the way he just better fit there, he belonged. Having spent Christmas with his family, seeing how he loved everyone so loudly just made sense.

“I want us to move to Kentucky but I just feel like that’s insane right?” he looked at you with widened eyes, worried you were misunderstanding the direction of the conversation.

“We should move” you smiled, leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips.

“But what about? And we just-“ he couldn’t finish a complete thought completely taken aback at your response. “I’m sorry, hold on. What the fuck?” He laughed almost uncontrollably making you lean into him and laugh too, eventually leaning your cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I feel like moving to Kentucky makes the most sense and I want you to be happy” you sighed, pulling back to gauge his response as you searched for emotion in his eyes.

“I don’t want my happiness to mean you’re unhappy” his bottom lip quivered as he tried to bite back a layer of emotion he had been suppressing.

“I think you’ve done all you can do in Atlanta. I know I’ll need to adjust but I can and will- I just want to be where you are” You kissed his slightly pink freckled nose.

“I can probably find someone to cover this lease” he shrugged, thinking about all his connections in Atlanta. “That's not my worry though, sweetheart are we good?” He motioned between the two of you, his main focus.

The pet name “sweetheart” rolled off his tongue naturally as if that was your given name. You nodded, a deep breath of relief escaping the both of you.

“Yes, besides kentucky seems like a good place to raise some kids” you teased knowing he’d like the sound of that as you played with his intertwined fingers.

“Don’t turn me on- i’ll give us one to raise right now” he chuckled knowing there was no truth to it.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep” You rasped as you cupped his face, pressing your soft lips against his. Your tongue was able to slip in, your fingers getting lost in his curls as the intensity heightened, making for a very relieving evening.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fanfic

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mothdruid · 1 year

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A Snowed In Baby Bird

pairing: robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader

summary: you and bob are childhood best friends, your families being friends before you both were born. a storm rolls in at your families shared cabin, that the two of you volunteered to lock up. now the two of you are stuck, but is that really a bad thing?

wc: 4.4k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, fluff at the end, alcohol use, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, blow job, pet names (baby bird), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bob fucks.

a/n: we've gotten two out of three winter storms in michigan so far this week! we currently have six inches of snow and are supposed to get six more this friday! so i was inspired to write a snowed in fic! this was also lightly based on a twitter porn video.

“Well, fuck.”

The weather outside was getting progressively worse. The wind was picking up, whipping around the thick white flakes of snow outside. It was practically a blizzard. Something that you would have seen in a movie and definitely didn’t feel confident driving back in. And you didn’t want to pressure Bob into driving back in this weather.

“What’s up?” Bob asked, walking over and stopping behind you.

“The storm showed up early.”

Yeah, the two of you knew about the storm. But it wasn’t supposed to show up for another three hours. Or at least the last you checked it wasn’t supposed to.

“That doesn’t look good.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Might as well get a hold of our parents.” Bob said, turning to go search for his phone.

Both of your families had left earlier that day, leaving the two of you alone. You two had volunteered to lock up, not wanting the rest of the family to be held up. After spending the whole weekend with each other's families, you two really wanted to take this time to catch up. You two had hoped to get alone time this weekend, but your families made it borderline impossible.

Your family and Bob’s had been close for years. Neither of you knew how or when your parents became best friends, but you both remembered each other from day one. Bob was only a few months older than you, something he always boasted about when you two were kids. You were a little surprised when he came home this time.

He was a little different, not the shy Bobby you grew up with. He was more confident and composed now, college having changed him. He had goals he was aiming for now, flight school being his driving force. A part of you was beyond proud of him, but it was still worrying watching the person you had loved for years take off without you.

You had never confessed that you loved him to anyone. You had always assumed it was some type of childhood crush, affection towards the first person who was kind to you. But then it never went away. Even when you both left for college, your heart ached at the loss of contact. The texts never stopped, the occasional video call every now and then, but it was just never the same.

“Yeah, ma. We know, we know. Yeah. Love you, too.”

You watched Bob pace back and forth around the living room, texting your own parents that you two were stuck at the cabin due to the storm. You bounced your leg lightly, a little anxious about the new predicament. There was barely enough wood for the wood stove to keep the cabin warm through the night. You leaned back into the couch, watching Bob hang up and walk over to you.

“You good?” Bob nudged your leg with his.

“I mean, kind of?”

Bob plopped down next to you, setting his phone on the coffee table. You mimicked the action, placing your phone on the coffee table.

“Getting snowed in wasn’t on my trip checklist.” You joked.

“Mine either.” Bob said, smiling at you. He wrapped an arm behind you on the couch, adjusting his glasses as he looked at you.

The two of you sat there for a moment, contemplating what to do next. The two of you decided that you would stay downstairs, not wanting to burn through all the wood trying to heat the entire place up. Bob offered to sleep on the couch, letting you take the only downstairs bedroom.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get too cold.” You said. The urge to say you would just share with him was strong, but you decided to tuck that away.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll just sleep in a sweater or something.” Bob chuckled. He stood up, moving to the wood pile near the wood stove.

You watched as he opened the front of the stove, taking a log and placing it inside the stove. A part of you wondered about how his arms looked under his sweater. The knit material hid the way his biceps flexed when he picked up each log. Bob had always been lean and fit, but you knew that since he was headed to flight school he might have started working out.

A heat started to bubble inside of you, still watching him. You could see a small rosy tint on his cheeks when he looked back at you. You gave him a small smile, getting up and heading to the open kitchen. You sought out two shot glasses and a bottle of fireball. If the fire wasn’t going to warm you up quickly, this definitely would.

Bob had moved to the fireplace when you returned to the living room. You watched as Bob got the fireplace lit, cracking open the bottle of fireball. He looked back as you filled one of the glasses with amber liquid, setting the bottle down before throwing back the shot. The liquid seared your throat as you felt it travel down, settling in your stomach.

“Fireball?” Bob asked, watching you pour another shot. “Are we in high school?”

“Says the one who didn’t drink til he turned twenty-one.” You threw back the second shot quickly, grimacing lightly.

“Sorry I was following the law.” Bob joked, tossing his hands up in a defensive way. You watched him grab the bottle and pour his own shot.

“Always being a good boy, aren’t you Bobby?” You teased.

Bob rolled his eyes, throwing back his own shot. The bob of his adams apple caught your attention. Your tongue ran over your lips, watching his lips detach from the shot glass. The shots in your stomach were starting to warm your body, adding a light haze to your brain. You weren’t sure when he had started watching you, but when your eyes caught his he blushed, looking away swiftly.

After the both of you downed a few more shots, you had finally started to catch up. You learned that Bob had got a close knit friend group at college. The group helped him push himself, going out of his comfort zone and learning more about what he was comfortable with. Bob had learned that you were still sporting a high GPA, even with graduation right around the corner.

“So, you heard about flight school?” You asked, pulling a blanket you had found further up your body.

“Yep, got accepted.” Bob nodded, holding another shot up to you as a toast before throwing it back. The bottle of fireball was almost empty now, maybe only a handful of shots left in the bottle.

“Congrats! Baby bird got his wings!” You squealed. Excitement with a tinge of sadness flowed through you, knowing that naval flight school would be hard. It would put him further away from you, making your heart ache. But you knew the two of you would make it through, just like you did with college.

“I haven't got 'em yet.” Bob said, looking at you with a bit of a sad look.

“What’s that look for?” You questioned, afraid you might have said something wrong.

Bob shrugged as he crossed his legs, grabbing at his pants leg now. He looked so small now, like that kid you grew up with. The kid that was always making sure that he had enough to share with the class. The one who always made sure that nobody was left behind in the line or fell behind in class. You thought about the one time he found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, which really upset him when he found out it couldn’t be put back. The incident that earned him the nickname ‘baby bird’ from you.

“It.. it’s nothing.” Bob whispered, trying to give you a small reassuring smile.

“That’s a lie.” You stood up, pointing down at him. “You have to tell me.”

Bob stared at your finger, leaning back a little bit. He was a bit perturbed at your action. His face scrunched up, eyes squinting to look at you. You watched him adjust his glasses, a part of your throat went dry as you watched him. Eventually, he swatted your finger away, pulling one knee up to his chest.

“Why do you want to know?” Bob questioned.

You made your way around the coffee table, moving to your knees in front of him. His cerulean eyes were deep pools of emotion, hiding something you couldn’t see on the surface.

“Because you’re my friend.” You reached out for his hand, feeling his soft skin against your own. “If something is bothering you, I’m here for you. You can talk to me.” Emotion had started to take over your face.

Bob could feel everything bubbling inside of him. It was all settling in his throat, threatening to break out. He had thought about his fears for a while. Being shipped off to the other side of the US, away from everyone he knew and loved. Away from you. The two of you weren’t together now, but a three hour drive was much more bearable than an almost day long drive.

“I’m scared about leaving. Being away from everyone.” Bob figured now was better than never. “Not having anyone I really know around. Not having anyone to lean on. Not having you.” Bob’s hand tightened around yours, the alcohol giving him confidence. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your heart ached at his words. All the shots of fireball were making his words confusing. It felt like a confession, but you weren’t sure of what. Without thinking you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his.

“I’m not leaving you though. I’ll always be here.”

Bob brought his free hand up to your face, caressing your cheek. You watched his eyes flick down to your lips, tongue moving to wet his lips. You scanned his face, taking in his now bright red cheeks and ocean like eyes.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours, softer than you ever imagined. You tightened your hand in his. The movement was gentle, his lips softly moving on yours. It wasn’t pushy or desperate, more refreshing than any other kiss you had experienced. The hand on your cheek moved a little bit, sliding to cradle the spot right below your ear. Bob pulled back from you, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“Is this okay?” Bob whispered.

“More than okay.” You nodded, feeling his glasses move with your motions.

The two you reconnected, a little bit more passion behind the kiss now. You let your years of emotions start to pour into it, giving him everything you had to offer. Bob doing a similar thing, letting all of his hidden emotions come to the surface. He let go of your hand bringing it up to the other side of your jaw, keeping you in place as he kissed you. The small wire frames of his glasses could be felt against the plush of your cheeks.

“Let’s move to the couch.” You whispered, kissing him lightly before standing up.

Bob moved over to the couch, sitting on it as he watched you saunter over. You placed a knee on each side of Bob, settling in his lap. Bob’s hands moved to your waist, lightly settling but not grabbing or applying pressure. You rolled your hips down onto his, feeling his semi-hard cock in his jeans. Bob leaned his head back into the couch, reveling in the feeling of you grinding against him. His eyes were focused on you, watching your hips roll against him. His chest was already moving heavily, each breath filling his lungs to the brink.

You gripped the back of the couch, rolling your hips as you felt his hard-on grow against your ass. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, breath passing quickly as you rocked against him. You felt your sweater tighten around your waist. You looked to see Bob’s hand tight on the material of your sweater.

Heat was starting to pool in your abdomen as you rocked against him. You pressed your chest against his, latching your lips onto his neck. A gasp left Bob, his blue eyes opening wide. His hips rocked up into your grinding motions, pulling a whimper from him. Soft noises started to pour from him when you sucked the spot below his ear.

“Can I ride you?” You asked.

You could feel how hot and wet your panties were as you rocked against him. It was barely anything, but god was it getting you ready for him. You felt like a teenager in high school during your first make out session. But the one thing you couldn’t get past was Bob not touching you. Did he actually want this? He was the one that asked you if it was okay? Maybe he changed his mind?

“Please.” Bob said, leaning up and trying to capture your lips again.

You gave him a small peck before climbing off of him. He watched you unbutton your jeans, sliding them down and kicking them to the side. Bob clenched the cushion of the couch, his other hand moving to lightly rub over the bulge of his jeans. He was watching you with such devotion and innocence, making you wonder if he had ever even lost his virginity.

“I’ve got a question for you, baby bird.” You asked, slipping your hands up the back of your sweater. You unhooked the clasp of your bra, bringing your arms in to take your bra off. “Have you ever,” you let your bra drop from under your sweater, “thought about this?”

Bob swallowed as he watched you. You stood before him in just your underwear and knit sweater. It was driving him crazy, thinking about your nude form underneath the sweater. The way your nipples must have perked up when the material of your sweater brushed them. He almost forgot about the question you asked him. He nodded eagerly once he remembered your words.

“Another question.” You settled on the floor in front of him, hands moving to his belt. “Have you ever, ya know?” Your fingers unlooped his belt, pulling it out from his pants. Your fingers swiftly undid the button to his pants.

“Yeah, it’s just been a while.” Bob quietly said, lifting his hips as you started pulling his pants down his legs.

“That’s okay, I promise to take it easy.” Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, easing them down his thighs.

Bob sighed when his cock was freed, the cooler air covering his cock. He spread his legs a little bit, watching you look at his cock. A small bit of embarrassment was starting to flood inside of him, not sure what you were thinking. It was all drained from him once your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly.

“Oh god.” Bob let out, letting his head drop back. He closed his eyes, breathing almost hitching with each stroke.

A warmth bloomed inside your chest as you watched his reaction. His cock felt like silk against your skin, a pearl of pre-come catching on your thumb. You spread pre-come along his cock, reveling in the sounds he had started to make. You grabbed the inside of his thigh with your left hand, keeping your right one stroking him.

The groan was ripped from Bob when your tongue licked at his tip. You kitten licked the head of his cock, earning soft whimpers from Bob. You took him into your mouth, easing him further into your mouth. Bob’s hand clenched near his sides, bringing himself to look at you. He moaned when he looked down at you, lips wrapped around his cock. It was something he had dreamed about for years.

You bobbed against him, taking him further and further into your mouth. You brought a hand to his balls, massaging lightly. Bob’s hips bucked a little, pushing the head of his cock into your throat. A gagging noise came from you, but you didn’t pull off of him. You wanted to give him everything you could. Take care of him the best you could.

Bob could barely handle it. The sounds of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth were pushing him to the edge. His abdomen was tight, a heat boiling in the base of his spine. He knew that if you kept this up he would come soon. Without a warning, you pulled off of him. He leaned up a little, getting ready to speak. You smashed your lips against his, earning a moan from Bob.

“I need you in me.” You said, slipping your underwear off as you started to stand up.

Bob nodded, watching you place a knee on each side of him. You hovered above him, staring at him as you grabbed his cock. You rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, catching on your entrance every now and then. A whine fell from you when it rubbed against your clit, a wave of pleasure rippling through you.

You positioned him at your entrance, preparing yourself to take him. You slowly started to sink down on his cock. A moan fell from you as he stretched you open. Bob’s hands shot to your waist, still hesitating to grab you. His breathing picked up, chest heaving as you fully seated yourself in his lap. Soft sounds continued to come from him.

“You’re not going to come, are you?” You asked softly.

“No.”

Bob’s fingers started to skate under your sweater. Without warning, you grabbed your sweater and took it off. Bob’s fingers grazed over your midsection, not knowing exactly where to touch. Bob’s eyes eventually found yours, not leaving your gaze as you took his glasses off of him. His cheeks were bright red, causing a warmth to blossom in your heart.

Your hips started to roll against him, his cock sliding in and out of you. Your fingers moved to the back of the couch, grabbing it for more leverage. Bob’s hands felt like they were hovering over your body. You started to lightly bounce on him, his cock stretching you with each downward motion.

His hands moved to the couch cushions, gripping them with each motion you made. A part of you was confused, wishing he would just touch you. Your hands found his, placing them over your breasts. Bob licked his lips when he felt your breasts in his hands. He kept his hands there, too nervous to grab or knead them.

You kept working your hips, thighs starting to slowly burn. A steady heat had formed in the pit of your belly. You placed your hands back on Bob’s thighs, rolling your hips and slightly presenting yourself to him. Bob just sat there watching, whines and moans falling from his lips. His hands stayed barely touching your breasts. His tongue ran over his lips, wetting them while teasing you.

You leaned over him, placing your hands on his jaw. You licked his lips, silently asking for him to open his mouth. His hands drifted to your waist, sitting there as your tongue moved against his. You ran a hand through his hair, pressing your forehead to his as you broke the kiss.

“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me.” You said, rolling your hips.

“I’m nervous.” Bob whimpered.

“You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”

Bob kissed you gingerly.

“But what if this is the only time.” He let his head fall back.

You started to kiss his neck, marking it lightly. It was cute, the concern and nervousness he was showing. You were also worried about this being the only time, but if he wanted to do this again, you definitely weren’t going to say no.

“We can do this however many times you want.” You whispered in his ear.

Bob pulled back to look at you. He leaned against you nodding before smashing his lips against yours. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you down tightly against him. A moan escaped you, his cock pushing deeper inside of you. His hips started to roll up into yours, meeting your own movements.

Bob leaned up, taking a nipple into his mouth as you rode him. His tongue swirled around the bud, pulling a moan from you. You threaded your fingers into his hair, keeping him pressed tightly on your chest. Moans started to pour from you as Bob started to take control. His hands gripped your hips and rolled them against him.

One of his hands disappeared from your hips, slipping between the two of you. Bob’s fingers slid between your legs, finding your clit. Your body shivered when he started rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves. You were so used to him not touching you that it was a little shocking. It hadn’t occurred to you just how close you were to your climax.

“Jus-just like that.” You whimpered as your hips rocked heavily against his.

The head of his cock was pressed tightly against that sensitive spot inside of you. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock pressed against your g-spot had you tumbling over the edge. Your walls clenched around his cock impossibly tight. Whimpers fell from your lips, his hips not stopping.

“B-Bob!” Your hands gripped the shoulders of his sweater tightly as you came around his cock.

“I’m not gonna last.” Bob whimpered, feeling you clenched around him.

“Inside of me, please.” You whimpered.

Bob groaned at your request, thrusts started to become uneven. His whimpers started to grow louder, hands tight on your sides. With only a few more thrusts and whines, Bob was coming inside of you. You moaned when you felt his come fill you, coating your walls and spreading warmth inside of you. You pulled Bob in for a heated kiss, tongue and teeth clashing.

Eventually you two pulled a part, Bob guiding you to rest your head on his shoulder. He started tracing small patterns on the skin of your back, taking a moment to appreciate what just happened. The material of his sweater pressed against your cheek as you started to drift. You shifted in his lap, his softened cock falling out of you. The both of you moaned when he fell out of you, his cum starting to fall out of you.

“Hey, let me go get something to clean you up.” Bob whispered, shifting you off of him and onto the couch.

A thumbs up was all you gave him as he got up and trotted off to the downstairs bathroom. You looked around for your sweater, locating it on the floor near the couch. By the time you slipped your sweater on, Bob was returning with a wet washcloth. You accepted it from him, whipping away the mess between your legs. He tracked down his underwear to put on, finding yours too. He held your panties out to you, trading you for the washcloth.

Bob left after the trade, heading back to toss the washcloth into the dirty clothes basket in the bathroom. You slipped your panties on before he came back, finding the blanket you were curled up in earlier. Bob picked his glasses up from the arm of the couch, placing them back on his face. He sat down near your feet, placing a hand on your now blanketed calf. You kicked your legs up, making sure the blanket covered his legs and yours.

The cabin was darker now, the fireplace barely had a flame to it and the night had consumed the weather outside. Silence settled between the two of you. It felt comfortable yet awkward.

“I was serious.” You said, staring at the dimly lit fireplace.

“Hmm?” Bob looked over at you, confused by your words.

“About it happening as many times as you want.” You looked at him, watching a shy look take over his face.

“Oh, I.. Okay.” Bob adjusted his glasses as he looked back at the fire.

You sat up, moving closer to him. You took one of his hands in yours, squeezing it.

“Are you okay?”

Bob smiled and turned to look at you. The shadows of his glasses casted over his face.

“I’m better than okay.” He squeezed your hand back. He leaned towards you, kissing you softly.

Warmth flooded you as he kissed you, spreading through your body. You brought a hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. He pulled back and pressed his forehead to yours. You heard him take a deep breath.

“I like you.” Bob whispered.

“I like you, too. Always have.” You whispered back.

Bob pulled back from you, a small look of surprise on his face. You smiled at him, repositioning the blanket on your laps then resting your head against his shoulder.

“I’ve always liked you.” Bob said, staring at the fireplace. He was contemplating getting up to add more wood to it. He didn’t want to give this up, having you cuddled against him.

“I think I’ve always liked you too. Liked you ever since we were little.” You said, thumb rubbing along the back of his hand.

Bob kissed the top of your head, then removed himself from you. He made his way to get a piece of wood to put in the fireplace, checking the wood stove in the process. He made his way back over to you, letting you rest your head on him again when he sat next to you.

“What’s gonna happen when I leave?” Bob asked. It was quiet, something you barely picked up.

“I didn’t leave you when we left for college, I’m not going to leave you when you go to flight school.”

“But it’s a lot farther away.”

You sat up, pulling your knees up and sitting on them. Bob watched you move quickly, facing him completely now. You grabbed both sides of his face, keeping him from looking away from you.

“Bob, what about ‘I’ve liked you since we were little’ do you not understand? I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I’ll be with you till the end.”

Bob scanned your face, taking in your features. Sincerity was all he could find. Your words were honest, full to the brim with truth. You had never lied to him before, why would you be lying now.

“You love me?” Bob asked.

“Yes, baby bird.” You pressed a kiss to him.

“I love you, too.” He whispered back.

#robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x female reader #bob floyd x female reader #robert floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd smut #robert floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fluff #top gun fic #lewis pullman

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wolfie-bee · 2 years

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Ties that bind

read it here as a twitter fic

"You know, when you showed up at my door this morning I didn't wanna let you in." Kara's words are a soft vulnerable truth, but the weight of them lodges deep in Lena's chest.

She knows, had seen the inky lines of mistrust etched across Kara's face that morning when offering the beginnings of an apology and a plea to help stop Lex.

There's tension in the lines of Kara's shoulders and Lena's eyes get stuck there as she looks down at her feet and stacks her hands on her hips. Then they dissolve into silence.

Well why are you still here? Lena wants to ask. Why am I here? But the words feel heavy, hurt springing like blood on her tongue.

Guilt immediately rushes in, you stole from me, you convinced me to steal for you and you used kryptonite on me!! an echoing ring in her ears that instantly liquefies her resolve. Her jaw tenses and ticks, and she dips her head, shifting her eyes away from the otherworldly gravity that Kara's holds.

Kara lifts her head and her eyes fixate on Lena's as the silence stretches, a stormy sea of emotions churning in their blue depths. The intensity in them tenses Lena's spine and she folds her arms tightly across her chest like a physical shield from their direct assault. She doesn't recognize this look, hates the uncertainty as bitter indignation crowds her stomach and the words you betrayed me, you broke my heart lock with startling force behind her ribcage.

"Alex was right," Kara chuckles humorlessly, "I'm not rational when it comes to you. I think with my heart and not with my head."

"Funny, Lex said the same to me."

Kara's expression turns inscrutable, and Lena doesn't know if it's because of the mention of her brother or their similarities when it comes to dealing with each other. She figures it's a little of both.

"But…" Lena continues, swallowing her pride and the lump forming in her throat, "is that such a bad thing?"

Kara doesn't answer. Instead, she lets out a shallow breath, forehead crinkling like this conversation had already become too much. She had shut this conversation down one too many times when Lena had tried to broach it earlier. But damn if it doesn't make Lena want to crawl out of her own skin.

She'd thought they were making some progress, had felt the tentative stirrings of reconciliation as they'd worked together to stop Leviathan.

It's disconcerting that she can't get a read on Kara's eyes as she takes a step back, red boots scuffing against the floor. And Lena's heart aches at the physical distance like an ever widening chasm between them.

"On Krypton, trust was something sacred." Kara starts softly, inhaling a large gulp of air that draws Lena's eyes to the glyph on her chest. "We broke that in each other, we caused each other so much pain and -"

"Pain is a necessary part of life," Lena says hoarsely, the words quivering on her tongue. "I learned that the hard way when Non Nocere failed."

Another bout of silence falls over them and Lena uses it to turn away from Kara, gathering strength for what she's about to say next.

"So I get it. You don't have to trust me in order for us to keep working together."

"But I want to…" Kara answers immediately, and there's earnestness in the soft tremor of her voice. "you came through today at every opportunity and I - I'm not saying that you have to keep doing that but, I want to trust you, Lena. I want to let you in again."

Lena releases the breath she didn't realize she was holding, relief spreading like fissures across her heart, a warm hopeful balm in her veins as she squeezes her eyes shut.

"Kara," she breathes out, lips trembling as she forces out the word. A host of reasons why they shouldn't do this flashes through her mind, the biggest of them being that Lena didn't think that she deserved to hold on to the tentative reins of trust being offered.

She hears her take a step.

Then another.

And another.

Until Kara's pressed right against her, a comforting warmth at Lena's back that makes her heart tremble as those warm familiar hands land on her shoulders. The touch nearly makes Lena flinch. She doesn't know why it surprises her since Kara has always been the more tactile one between them. And her brain stalls in trying to furiously calculate exactly how long they've been apart.

Kara notices, of course she does. She breathes out shakily, hands drifting along the curve of Lena's shoulders and the small of her back.

Lena trembles at the feel of it, her touch starved body aching to be held in Kara's arms again. Because Kara is warmth and light and Lena still loves her with the inevitability of a new day and the gravity that binds them to each other.

Kara's touch is an irresistible force and Lena can't even find it within her to be angry that her defenses were practically nonexistent as the tension melts from her in seconds.

That warmth reaches all the way to her toes as those hands slide in a comforting press down the arch of her spine to settle lightly at her hips. Before Lena can think herself out of it, she turns, just to see her face as the desire to reach out, to touch, loosens the threaded beat of her anxious heart.

The hands on her hips bunches in Lena's blouse almost to the point of contention and she freezes, lifting her eyes to Kara's. This is the closest they've been in a while but the uncertainty in Kara's eyes is almost Lena's undoing. She allows herself a small conciliation, grasping onto the hands already clinging to her, as if that could somehow convey the mix of emotions thrumming inside her chest.

The wall between them all but falls away as Kara loosens one of her hands to reach out and cup her face. Lena leans readily into the contact and Kara's eyes soften, allowing her a glimpse of the woman she'd fallen in love with.

"How do I let you in again?" Kara asks, a shaky plea that loosens tears from her devastatingly attractive eyes. Lena wants to reach up and kiss them away, but her insecurities leave her rooted to the spot.

"Maybe you shouldn't," She answers truthfully, her doubts manifesting as those small broken words.

Kara's palm trembles against her cheek and Lena closes her eyes, moving to shift away. But Kara's other hand presses more insistently against her side, warming her through her clothes and Lena nearly chokes on her name, can't find her voice which gets lost somewhere in the trembling cry struggling to break free.

"I know I hurt you by not telling you my truth." Kara says, drawing Lena's eyes to hers. "And I'm sorry. I haven't had a lot of practice doing this. Growing up I was forced to hide my abilities because the people around me could get hurt and I - I know that's no excuse, but I hope -" Kara stops abruptly, lips trembling too much to continue.

And Lena doesn't want to talk about this anymore, can't talk about it without breaking down again. Her heart aches for Kara, for this woman born of different stars and the hardships she faced. So she closes the rest of the distance, folding herself into Kara's embrace.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that." She whispers, tucking her face against Kara's neck as those warm arms go around her.

"Lena," the way that Kara says her name has never failed to make Lena's breath hitch. "I hope that one day you can forgive me."

Her trembling arms lock around Kara's shoulders, and Kara nuzzles against her hair, chest expanding as she breathes Lena in. Lena closes her eyes and oh, Kara's touch is grounding and these arms feel more like home than any place on earth ever could.

She doesn't expect the soft lingering kiss that Kara leans in and presses to her temple and the intimacy and affection of it shatters Lena's careful composure. Tears fills her eyes, tears that spill down her face as her breathing shortens and they don't have time for this, they have to stop Lex from whatever he's plotting, they have to -

But patient, gentle Kara frames her face between warm palms, tenderly brushing the tears away with the pad of her thumbs and the anchoring force of another kiss pressed sweetly against her skin.

Her kiss is light dawning in the darkness, darkness that rushes out from Lena's heart and flees from the crevices of her soul as Kara's kisses move across her temple and down to her eyebrows. She doesn't stop, pressing them in reverence across her eyelids, sweeping along the bridge of Lena's nose down to the apple of her cheeks, a sweet calming force that quiets Lena's mind.

It's new, this level of intimacy, the fact that they've never really used kisses for comforting each other in all of their years of friendship. Lena finds that she can't get enough of it, craves the press of Kara's warm mouth on her skin and can't believe that they've never done this before.

She flushes brightly when Kara tilts her chin with a hand covering her jaw to drop a kiss just below Lena's ear and stills long enough for Lena to reopen her eyes.

Kara's cheeks are a lovely red and Lena's eyes get stuck there, admiring their rosy hue. She doesn't know what expression her face forms as Kara moves back a little but they stare at each other, all heavy lidded eyes and soft breaths mingling in the short space between. The staring lengthens to the point where Lena feels like she's about to combust beneath the allure of those magnetic blue eyes.

So she moves in, drawn to Kara, softly touching their noses together. The action elicits a wobbly smile from Kara's pretty pink lips and Lena closes her eyes again, hands falling to grasp onto Kara’s suit clad biceps. Her nose skims across the rise of Kara's cheek, and down to her calming fluttering pulse, overwhelmed by the scent of peaches clinging to her skin.

One of Kara's hands finds her hip again, the other mindlessly tangling in Lena's hair and Lena can't think of a safer place than these arms as she absentmindedly noses along the slope of Kara's neck till the point where the supersuit starts. Her lips tingle where they accidentally meet warm skin and she draws back a little to intentionally press them lightly against the hollow of Kara's throat.

It's a bit concerning that she doesn't have the wherewithal to be mortified by her actions, but Kara's only reaction is a quiet breath against her ear.

So she does it again, soft, tentative.

This time Kara makes a tiny noise of encouragement that fills Lena with ardor and she wants to hear it again, has to hear it again. So she opens her mouth a little and scrapes her teeth along the corded muscles of Kara’s neck, feeling them flutter beneath the soft roll of her tongue. Kara's breathing turns heavy.

Lena delights at the response and the feeling of Kara's fingers tightening in her hair. She grows bolder with her kisses, moving back up Kara's neck and across the line of her jaw like a woman possessed.

This isn't something that best friends do. But right now they weren't even friends. And Lena's always been a little too in love with Kara to truly make her an enemy.

"Lena," Kara says, the name a soft aching sigh as Lena presses a litany of sweet kisses along Kara's soft reddened cheek, unable to stop or draw herself away as those fingers clench tighter in her hair.

Kara's breathing is a mess, and she closes her eyes as Lena carefully tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, lips still pressed to soft warm skin.

"I'm sorry too." She whispers, soft, penitent. The tears come again, the shame at what she'd done a suffocating force as her lips tremble against Kara's skin, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. "I hurt you and I know I can't make up for what I did but I promise, I'm going to try."

Kara's hand slips beneath the blouse that had loosened from where it had been tucked in her jeans and Lena's breath hitches as her warm hand lands on equally warm skin. She kisses Kara's cheek again, pressing closer, feels like they aren't truly close enough as she kisses her again and again.

Kara's lips catch the last kiss aimed for the corner of her mouth and her hand slides around to Lena's lower back, making Lena's heart flutter.

She doesn't lose stride, if anything, she's embolden, her silken mouth parting Lena's lips with a soft tremor. The kiss immediately deepens, no prelude, no hesitancy, only a soothing whisper of Lena's hands moving to tenderly frame Kara’s face and kisses as inevitable as freefall.

Kara's kisses are transcendental and Lena's mouth parts below hers as her thumbs sweep against the apple of Kara's cheeks, lips aching with apologies and promises.

The crest of the House of El presses tight against her chest and Lena presses a palm directly over it, a silent promise, a deep shuddering breath escaping her lips as Kara's second hand moves to join the other as they frame the dips on her lower back.

Lena's hands shift to tangle in the red cape on Kara's back as she kisses her with salt on her lips and forgiveness on her tongue. Kara's mouth trembles against hers, a reminder of the more difficult parts of the conversation still to come and a sweet tentative taste of the reconciliation awaiting them.

Happy Supercorp Sunday everyone!! Once again this fic was written on Twitter today in response to the gif tweeted above by @CSIRJen who's awesome and just provides inspiring tweets that make me write these weird little stories 😅 thank you to everyone who's gotten this far, I'm always amazed when people read all of my rambling words.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #ties that bind #s5x19 scene extension #basically i saw supercorp's handshake in this scene and thought the cee w could have done better #my toxic trait is that anytime i see s5 angst as a gif or video i think supercorp should just hug and kiss about it #so here is me making them do exactly that #nothing like kisses to heal wounds 🥺💗#my writing #my fics #supercorp twitter fic #twitter fic chaos #s5 finale re-do?#happy supercorp sunday

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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hey fang, how do we feel about isagi + prone bone position and him moaning in your ear telling you about how much he loves you and how perfect you are for him

im thinking deeply of him today and this just came on my mind and wanted to know your thoughts

tell me, tell me, i tend to you | y. isagi

✮ tags ; prone-bone <333, porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (referred to as isagis girlfriend), aged-up charas + isagi is a pro player, reader is a dorming uni student, fingering, creampies, praise and affection, isagi is a little bit of a tease 18+

✮ wc ; 3.1k (idek)

✮ a/n ; anon you sent this in sept im so sorry. but he's in my mind. i desire and want him bad. title from a brent faiyaz song

✮ synopsis ; isagi is always wanting to be as close as possible.

Isagi lingers on you like a shadow.

He sticks famously to your sides. All your paparazzi photos that eventually blow up on twitter are taken with him wrapped around. His face buried in your shoulder while you're standing in line. His hand in your lap while you watch movies.

Just a few months, he was trending on twitter because of his P.D.A. A video taken by his manager, closing in on him resting his sweaty head in your lap. Rubbing his face against your thigh with a pout before reaching out for your hand and rubbing his thumb over your ring size.

Through the muffled audio, only one thing could be heard. The sound of your named in his voice, lips curling around the words i like you before placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

He isn't very public about your relationship otherwise. When people ask about you, he's minimal with the informaiton. But every time it does end up in the public eye, it's almost always because everyone finds the way Isagi sticks to you to be endearing. He likes being close to you.

He's always been big on physical touch. When he's tired or stressed - the first thing he does is collapse on top of you, itching to be looked after. He'll bring your hand all the way to his neck and wait for you to scratch his scalp asleep.

And when he misses you, the first thing you'll recieve is a bone-crushing hug and a plethora of kisses all over your face. Always followed by a muffled confession of longing.

It should be no surprise to you that Isagi is always aching for ways to close the gaps between you. Searching for solutions to ensure he can be as close as he can, fit himself into the crevice between your heart and ribs just because.

It's not surprise to feel Isagi hover over you after a long week away from home.

You lay flat on your stomach as you sift through the syllabus of your classes next semester. The sun is barely starting to set and you're comfortable in your bed - heather grey sheets and a big comforter over you.

You smell like citrus and soap. Crisp, cool evening air lets you breathe easy as you read through a bunch of repeated plagarism policies and pre-emptively stress about due dates. Your face is propped up on your palm. Your legs are up, crossed at the ankle and swinging as you read.

You're too entrenched in it to hear the shower turn off. You only notice Isagi when he's already entered back in the room, feeling his presence before you turn your head to look.

He clicks the door behind him gently, locking it before leaning back on the door frame. You turn your head without looking first, before Isagi clears his throat to catch your attention.

When you finallydo look, you feel something stir in your stomach. You've got a good looking boyfriend, you always seem to forget. His shirt is gone and discarded - a part of basketball shorts just barely pulled up over his boxers.

His hair is wet, pushed back and dripping on his shoulders where a grey towel is hung around his neck. You feel conscious of yourself, and your proximity. How many weeks it's been since you've last seen him. So you laugh, soft, crossing your arms and resting your chin on your upper arm.

"Hey, handsome."

He grins at you.

"Jeez. Hey. I missed you."

Before you get a chance to reply, Isagi makes his way towards you. Feet padding on the floor before he stops, pulling his knee up till its resting on the matress. He's just in front of you, your face directly towards his abs.

He bends down for you, hands on the side of your face. You pull yourself up, pushed up on one hand to meet in the middle. When Isagi kisses you, he's soft. He's a lot more confident than when you first started dating, slow strokes of his thumb across your cheek. Everything feels likes its stopped around you.

Isagi looks hungry when he pulls back, kissing the corner of your mouth as he cradles your face in his hands.

"You been busy?"

"Mm, a little? University is opening up again soon so I was being pro-active."

"Woah, you're so smart. My girlfriends so cool."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm getting in your good graces before you abandon me for your dorms."

"You're already in my good graces, dummy."

"Nice."

He kisses you one more time, this time your forehead before pulling away. When he's stood up again, you move to pull the comforter off your body and let him join you in bed.

But Isagi reads your actions before you can do it. He pulls them off in one fell swoop before pausing, breath catching. When you look up, his eyes are blown out. You turn your head to look at him clearly, brows tightened in confusion.

"Baby?"

"Ah," He says, dropping the comforter on the other side of the bed "What're you wearing..."

You raided his closet not too long ago, fitting into one of his stretchy tanks before putting on some shorts. You've got on socks since it's cold, white and tight around the ankle. House clothes.

"Comfy clothes. I borrowed your tank."

"Yeah... noticed that too."

He reaches his hand out and places them on the back of your thigh, squeezing softly. Your eyes widen.

"Isagi?"

"Mm?" He says, innocent as you feel him get on the bed. You can't turn your head anymore when he does "Don't worry about me, focus on your school stuff."

You huff out some air.

"And how do you want me to do that, huh? What're you—"

You feel Isagi above you. Both of his knees on either side of your hips, his thumb and forefinger reaching around as much of your waist as he can reach. He hooks his thumb underneath your tanktop, pushing up slowly. You hold your breath at the sudden contact, and when you go again - to figure out what exactly he's doing, you feel something hard pressing into your ass.

It clicks all at once and you gasp.

"Isagi."

"Don't even—," He punctuates his words by bending over you. Isagi fits above you like its nothing, he's overpowering sometimes. The presence of subtle intimidation as he fills his voice with airy cheer "—worry about me. Just focus on what you need to do."

But of course you can't. You couldn't even if you tried. Isagis hands squeeze your sides, pushing under your weight to squeeze the fat your tits between his palms. Calloused and rough against your soft skin, caught between the thick cotton.

A moan splinters off from the sentence you intended to form, soft and easy. Like habit, you push your ass against Isagi's bulge as you feel it. Hard through the cloth and eager against the curves of yoyur body. He lets out a little whine.

"I missed you," He hums, syllables drawn out as he gropes you. You feel his mouth at the nape of your neck, pushing your hair away so he can reach it. He kisses down the slope of your throat, down your shoulder - before sinking his teeth in. The hard point digs and digs, until there's something like a bite mark that throbs in your skin.

Isagi kisses it afterwards and you draw a deep breath as he opens his mouth to do it again and again.

"Sure seems like it," You giggle, turning your head just to peek at him "You're like a leech today, hm?"

"I'm always like that. You just look uhm...sexy in my clothes. Makes me wanna.."

"Makes you wanna fuck me?"

"Ngh, yeah. Just like this."

"Whatever you want. Congrats on your big win, sweetheart."

"Fuck, you're so," He says through a laugh, where his voice pitches off. Deeper and sexy and confident in that unusual way. It feels like he's possessed by something but you love it. You love stroking Isagi's ego. You love the way he acts when you do "Don't even know. Maybe it'll make more sense if I fuck you."

"Isagi," You whine this time, again with purpose and he laughs "I missed you too."

"Don't rile me up on purpose."

"But it's fun,"

"Not for me," He says, and he means it. You know that he does because he makes a grunt of frustration as he rolls hips up "Just makes me...want to keep you all to myself."

"I'm all yours, Isagi. Always and forever."

"Yeah," He pulls the fabric of your shirt all the up until the material is bunched at the top of your breasts. When your skins all exposed, he presses his soft lips at the top of your spine and slowly works his way down. His hands squeeze your ass hard enough to pull you apart. He rests his forehead on your back "Always, love."

There's something resting in his voice that makes every nerve in your body heat. You're aware of your proximity. Of Isagi's bare chest and the warmth that's radiating off of it. Your heartbeat thrums in your throat like you're about to spit it out.

Isagi doesn't pull your shorts down far when you feel his fingers in the elastic waistband. He doesn't even tug it down to your knees, instead leaving them tight and half-way squeezing your legs together. You feel yourself collapse into your bed, arms crossed in front of you.

You squeeze your eyes closed as you feel his hand. He's hover over your calves and his hands are pulling your pussy apart. You can feel your clit throb, arousal sticky and pooling in thick strands. It drips as Isagi keeps you open with his hands, thumb starting at your clit and running against the seam of your cunt with a deep sigh.

"You're prettier than anyone I've ever seen. So pretty."

"Isagi." You moan, whimpering as he teases you. Pulls your pussy open until you can feel it stretch without anything inside, running his fingers along your folds until they're sticky without pushing in "Give it to me."

"You want me?"

"Uh-huh. C'mon, c'mon."

"Yeah, that's right. Shouldn't keep you waiting," He says, humming, before you feel his hand close to your face. "Open up."

You follow without protest, lips parting as Isagi's fingers enter your hot mouth. His fingers are long, thin and pretty - reaching the back of your throat without any effort at all. You moan around them, sliding your tongue between them.

"Get 'em messy. Nice and messy,"

Your head feels heavy on your shoulder, mouth drooling around Isagi's fingers without a single thought in your head other than how much you want to be closer. How much you want to stick to his usual routine of clinging. You feel the spit drip down on your chin, onto your chest. Isagi coos at you.

"That's good."

He pulls his hand way before tilting your chin, kissing you gently depsite all the drool and mess. Maybe because of it.

He sneaks his hand between your thighs, middle finger sliding against your folds and your whole body trembles at the promise of being touched. Everything feels like it's melting around you, sliding and and the air in the room is thick. Isagi has nice hands. Gentle and nice with a few scars on his palms, and his fingers are long.

They don't hurt when they stretch you out. But you feel them, feel the texture and feel the length and feel the rest of his hands rest on his ass. You can feel the beat of Isagi's heart nearly, at the proximitity and suddenly one finger feels like too slow.

He pumps it out of you, slow and and steady and you whine and whine. You feel like you'll collapse if the wait is any longer. With mercy, Isagi slides another finger and helps you stretch out. He hums through it, buries himself all the way down to the knuckle. Deeper and deeper until he's touched that part of you.

You feel your body losing strength as Isagi works you open, till it doesn't feel so tight so he can fit into you easily. It's all emptiness, all waiting to be full with Isagi all over.

"Gonna put it in, okay?" He informs you. You can't see him behind you, so you're left to conjure pictures of it. It makes your heart flutter, stomach flipping as you think of what Isagi must look like above you.

You hear his clothes come off, the silky swish of shorts and the smooth and texture material of his cotton boxers going next. Isagi lets out a warm puff off air from his lips. He rubs the tip of his cock against the roundest part of your ass in what feels close to affection. You can feel it, how it leaks and twitches and throbs against you like a promise.

And Isagi does that for so long, rubbing his cock against you. Against the puffy folds of your cunt and against your thighs and the creases of everywhere he can reach. He's teasing you. It leaves you gasping, arousal coming to the boiling point of frustration.

"You want something?" He says, almost coy. Near playful in that egotistical, mean sort of way he doesn't usually do unless you plead. You moan, voice coarse.

"Yoichi," You say, figuring maybe that'd be enough for him to push in but he doesn't it "Please, baby. Give it to me."

"Give you what? C'mon, tell me, hm?"

"Want your dick in me." You say with a whine. He laughs over you, bubbly and boyish and miserably attractive. If you weren't so horny, you'd be angry but he sounds so good like that.

"Really now? Guess I should give it to you since you asked so nicely."

"Thank you, thank you—oh fuck."

Isagi feels good when he pushes the tip into you slowly. He pushes it into you slow. His cock is hard and longer than thick and it feels so impossibly good. Your stomach tenses in anticipation for every inch and he gives you it just as promised. With a smooth roll of hips, his own body reacting naturally to your soft, wet heat.

He's so hard inside of you, throbbing. The skin on skin is too intense to breathe - even the tiniest motion leaving you falling forward. Whatever you feel is strengthened by the sound of Isagi's voice. The harsh way he groans.

His body weight melts into yours and nothing exists outside of you. All you can think about is Isagi's cock, and the weight of his body. His chest and the rest of his body is alarmingly strong, pure sinew under the skin that tenses and strains. You feel his chest, plush and broad, right up against your back.

And this time you can hear his heartbeat, really. You can hear it pump against his, how loud and fast it is and how it rings in his ears. Isagi is inside of you and all over you. His chin is resting on your shoulder and you can hear his breathing in all of it's uneven desperation.

All of Isagi is all of you. You don't know where he starts and where you stop. Isagi is inside of you and he's so close to you and your everything is in carnal cohesion with one another. The only thing your body wants wholly is for him to move.

And he does, eventually - after pushing his cock all the way to the base. And you're still laying flat on your stomach, now pinned under his weight.

Instead of a hard thrust, your met with a deep and shallow one. It's different. It doesn't knock into you. More like a carving, a gentle scraping touching a part of you you'd never thought you'd reach. The euphoria of scratching a deep itch, Isagi melts you into him.

"Oh, love." He groans, hips rolling over and over "You're perfect, feels perfect, feels so good fuck."

You whimper against your sheets, cheek planted onto them as he fucks you with the weight of his whole body.

"I'm so lucky. Gotta keep—ngh, fuck—winning so we can stay like this, yeah? You like when I win, right?"

You nod your head wearily before forcing out a soft yes.

"And I like winning for you. I like when you brag about and I like that everyone knows that you always cheer for me. You know that? Love you so much."

"Isagi," You beg, with all the patience and need you can muster "Fuck me, fuck me."

Isagi laughs against the shell of your ear, teeth nipping slightly.

"Uh-huh. I will. C'mon, grind against the bed a little. Make yourself feel good."

You don't know if Isagi is just good at reading you, but you whimper. He lets up just so you can angle yourself - your clit rubbing against something that you were laying on. A blanket squished underneath you, Isagi moves so you can rut yourself on it while he fucks you. It's thoughtful. Makes you so horny you can't do anything but lose yourself to him.

You squrim until your little achy clit catches onto the material. Everything is tight together and Isagi smiles as he feels you clench around his cock hard. You're gonna cum soon. With just a little more effort, and he knows.

"That's what you needed right? I'm gonna move with you. Cum when you feel it."

He matches your paces with terrifying precision. The control in his movements is intoxicating, matches the perfect rhythm for you're grinding yourself and everything around you is coming undone.

You're going to cum. You're going to cum hard and it's going to be around Isagi's cock while he's in you all the way. Everything is so snug and your whole body is locked. A fist clenched or the weight of something before it breaks.

When you cum, everything blurs together. Every motion and every sound and you're so dizzy. Everything smells like sex and sweat and Isagi is whispering sweet nothings in your ear. It's pure euphoria and you choke on the air around you. Your body shudders and your cunt throbs like it doesn't want Isagi to leave.

Isagi fucks you through your high, and when you're all tuckered out - his lips are against your neck.

"Can I cum?" He asks, just in case. You giggle.

"Do it inside." You purr. Isagi curses over you, and another wave of pleasure floods you as he spills inside. Thick spurts of cum making your insides white until he practically collapses above you.

When he's finished, he rubs his cheek on your skin and you laugh.

"You're heavy," You tease. Isagi hums.

"Move later. Wanna stay like this"

"Not even gonna pull out, huh?"

"Nope."

#isagi x reader #isagi smut #bluelock x reader #bluelock smut #writing tag #bllk x reader #bllk smut

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parasociallymarryme · 2 years

Text

i saw this on twitter but cant find the original tweet anymore so.. have it. and a little blurb along with it.

smut, amab reader, oral (reader receiving), not proofread (i wrote it out of impulse help), nicknames (good boy, puppy), short blurb

imagine fucking sapnap's throat while he moans and whines around your cock, his own dick getting painfully harder by the second. you didn't let him touch himself until you came.

his mouth felt so good, his tongue slightly stuck out, the bottom of your cock sliding over it every time you thrust into his throat. just the noises he was making was enough to make you feel good. the wetness of his mouth and the amount of precum dripping out of you, not to mention the roughness of you fucking his face, was sure to make some pretty lewd, wet noises.

but you wanted to see him, how ruined he was. you opened your eyes to look down at him. god, he looked so pretty like this. eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, your length disappearing into his mouth. you can't help but thread your fingers through his soft hair, grabbing it to push his head in sync with your thrusts. you wished he'd sub more. it's such a heavenly feeling whenever he does, he's such an obedient boy for you.

"such a good boy, aren't you, sapnap? taking my cock like this?" you gave him praise, and you can tell it went straight to his dick. he whimpered in response and shuffled the way he sat. his hand started to reach for his crotch, but quickly pulled away when he remembered what you'd told him. if he disobeys, you won't let him cum.

soon you felt that familiar feeling pooling in your lower stomach. as much as you'd love to cum down his throat and force him to swallow everything, he'd look much better with your cum all over his face.

you pulled out, a string of saliva and precum connecting the tip of your cock to his tongue. he looked up at you while he stuck his tongue out, letting you tap your cock on it. you jerked yourself off to milk the cum out of you, white strings landing on sapnap's face and some in his mouth. what you didn't expect is for him to close his mouth and swallow what was in it.

"does it taste good, puppy?" he nods in response and looks up at you. you kneel down to his level and cup his face. "good boy." you wipe your cum off his face with your thumb, and held it in front of his mouth. he took your thumb into his mouth, sucking and licking it like he did with your cock. you gave him more praise, the look in his eyes is telling that he's deep in subspace.

you took your thumb out and replaced it with your tongue, you could feel his lips trembling when you smashed yours into his, tasting yourself on his mouth.

when you pull away from him, he looks at you with puppy eyes. "c-can i cum now, please..?" he asks weakly, and you take a glance to his aching cock. you smirk and gently push him back so he's laying on the ground, and crawl on top of him. he looks up at you with anticipation, heart pounding faster, cheeks getting redder. you look him in the eyes and whisper, "don't worry, i'll take care of you, puppy." once your palm makes contact with his clothed cock, he lets out the most pornographic moan youve ever heard come from his lips. "i'm going to make you cum until you can't anymore."

...part 2 soon ? maybe ?

#sapnap smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #spnp #[spnp]#sapnap x male reader smut #mcyt imagine #sapnap imagine

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werdlewrites · 6 months

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When I Saw You (Thomas x OC preview)

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

share support through likes, comments, and reblogs! Or through my kofi

summary: N/A warnings: ROUGH DRAFT, this story/drabble may contain violence, blood, and smut? maybe? wc: N/A in progress

The first time he sees her is late in the day - eyes trained on the doors in anticipation for what Chuck's promised. Machines built into stone, coming to life just before the sun begins to set. It's insanity, and a piece of him believes it was all some elaborate trick they played on every boy brought up through the box. Some sort of initiation, and it was sick. He pictures them all gathered, looks of joy in their faces while the newcomer spun out of control, unable to grasp onto this new reality. Thomas felt as if his mind had been torn not in two, but completely apart in scattered pieces. Shards of memory scrambled in with this new life - one that seems impossible, and too cruel for anyone to manifest. "Right on time," the shorter boy states with a wide and silly grin, almost pleased to share this moment with his new friend. To prove him wrong in a matter of minutes. The Newbie spots a dark haired boy first - shirt tight around well trained biceps, coated in sweat from a long day spent on the move. She rounds the same corner just after him - dirt stains paired with her own exhaustion, cheeks red and focus locked straight ahead - on freedom. A cloth lays tight against her face, concealing one eye, where multiple scars trail out from beneath and down towards her chest. He feels nauseous - not at the sight, but rather the idea of an unknown tale, and how it all came to be. Neither of them slow to a steady stride until each foot lands on warm grass, moving with purpose and ignoring the sight of a new Glader. She doesn't see him - but he sees her. Brown eyes are glued to her back as she joins others at the steel door, following the small group into the shadows of a mysterious building. "That's Gwen," Chuck chimes in with a smug expression, as if hearing the mental torment Thomas put himself through. "Didn't ask," is his dry retort, making a sad attempt to shake away the daze he felt trapped within - gaze still locked on the quiet building, heart aching to know its secrets. "You will. Everybody does." Thomas’ head turns, a look of confusion in his eyes.

What was so special about the girl named Gwen? Why do they care so much?

"Only girl in the glade." Thomas can't be sure if it's the boom of his heart rattling in his ears, or the metalwork coming to life inside the maze, but it renders all thoughts static.

The only…one?

"Don't get smart, Greenie. You're nothin' special."

#i'm reading tmr again and i'm invested #tmr #the maze runner #the scorch trials #thomas tmr #tmr thomas #thomas the maze runnr #the kill order #the death cure #chuck #newt #minho #gally

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inthemytdl · 2 years

Text

Leveled Up

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Spider-Man gets tricky when you’re ready to take it to the next level and he’s not

Word Count: 1910

The first time you met Spider-Man you were sitting on the fire escape outside your window when you saw him climbing up the side of your building. His odd bug-like demeanor sent a scream roaring through your throat, which sent him falling down two stories.

He never told you what he was doing there, but you had your suspicions. You had so many you sent a plethora of questions his way. He was surprisingly willing to answer some but avoided personal questions like his age. You figured he was around yours with his sometimes-squeaky voice and constant pop-culture references. You never thought they would bring you to this moment now.

“Can I?” Your fingers tapped on his shoulders where his mask met his suit. You had never seen Spider-Man’s face before. No one had. But you had been friends for so long tonight felt like the right time—when was peering into your eyes as you looked into his white lenses. It was strange, but you had gotten used to them: the constant barrier between you and him. It kept your relationship at bay and ached your heart. You slowly lifted his mask like you were peeling away wallpaper when he grabbed your arms.

“Wait…”

You peered into his lenses for a response you clearly wouldn’t receive, so you dropped your hands and faced the night sky ahead of you. You could see the street that led to Duke’s, a knock-off of Delmar’s, according to Spider-Man, from the top of your apartment building.

“Can I at least get your name?”

The silence filled with the sound of his heavy breaths. You knew the suit didn’t cut off his oxygen supply so he must have been nervous. Though he had no reason to be. He was the one hiding behind red and blue lycra.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He whispered after a minute of gruesome silence. “It’s not safe.”

“Bullshit.” That was the same excuse he used every time you asked about his personal life and it infuriated you. The way everything you knew about him could be found in a newspaper. Each story he told was one you heard hours prior on the news—minus the witty commentary. Who knew Spider-Man was so into pizza? Everyone that knew Joe from Bleecker street’s pizza shop. Who knew Iron-Man was his favorite superhero? Everyone on Twitter. Nothing you knew about him was personal. It could all be found online. “New York’s the safest it’s ever been—this is about you.”

“Actually, Linda from 3rd street almost got purse-napped the other day and—“ He rambled on about crime rates, anything he could to deflect the situation. Just like always.

“We’ve known each other for how long.” You interrupted and he quickly replied. “Eight months and 28 days—give or take a day.”

“Eight months and I don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s not true—“

“And everything I do know everyone else does too!”

“No… I told you about that churro I had the other day—no one knew that.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, swiping the screen to reveal a photo of him eating a cylinder shaped cinnamon stick. It had shown up on your Twitter feed after getting half a million likes.

“What?!” His lenses contracted as he peered at the image. “That’s my worst angle!”

You chewed your lips, refusing to give him the laugh he was so obviously looking for. You didn’t even smile. His unreadable expression made you bite your lips so hard a warm metallic swarmed in your mouth.

“Y/n,” he said, lifting a clothed hand to your face. His finger brushed on your lip and you pulled back when you looked into his cold lenses. Affection was always weird when you didn’t know who it was coming from.

“Don’t call me that.” You sneered, pocketing your phone as you stood. His lenses contracted.

“What?”

“If I don’t get to know your name then you don’t get to know mine.” It was petty, but nothing about your situation was fair. You told him everything. When you talked about your parents, he mentioned Stark Industries; when you gushed about your dream life, he raved about web-shooters and cameras; and when you bared your deepest secrets to him, he unveiled his affinity for board games. Because god knows he couldn’t find anything better to say, right?

“But I already know it…”

“Then don’t use it!” Your voice cracked as you continued. “A-and if I don’t get to see you then you don’t get to see me.” You b-lined past the patio tables and plant pots to the door that led into your apartment building. You hesitated when you grabbed the door knob, slowly twisting it as you squeezed your eyes shut. You wished to every star above that he would say something. All he had to do was ask you to stay and you would.

“I-it’s Peter!” You stopped in your tracks, turning around. “What?”

“My name. It’s Peter.”

His lenses contracted and expanded rapidly in a way that told you he was searching for a response, but your breath was caught in your throat. Peter. Out of all the names you thought of for him you never thought he’d be a Peter. You mouthed the letters, trying them out as your lips curved and expanded around the vowels.

“I’m from Queens and I live with my aunt.”

You stepped away from the door, allowing it to slam shut as you walked closer to him.

“You asked about my parents…” He took a heavy breath you could hear from meters away. “They died when I was a kid—plane crash.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you went with the best thing you could think of. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He exasperated. “I’m over it. Besides, my aunt took care of me with my uncle—he bought me my first camera.” His lenses fidgeted as he kicked at the ground. “But I took it apart to build an automatic can opener for my aunt.”

You let out a breathy laugh and his lenses expanded.

“It’s true! She never used it… until my uncle died.”

Your laugh came to a halt and you felt your throat constrict like earlier before. Who knew Spider-Man had been struck by so much heartbreak? You couldn’t imagine the pain of having a loved one die so the thought of losing three was inconceivable.

“It’s okay.” He said after a tick of silence, but the hick in his voice told you it wasn’t. “He taught me how to play chess. He always beat me—didn’t let me win once. Now I just play monopoly with my aunt, but Mr. Stark and I play chess every now and then.”

“Do you win?”

“Sometimes.”

You smiled, but it quickly dropped when you thought back to your earlier conversations. You never understood why he opted to talk about superficial things like board games and billionaires when you talked about your personal life, but it was starting to make sense. Those were his personal life. What he lacked in guardianship, he made up for with Tony Stark—who he couldn’t go three days without talking about. And his dreams were to build things—whether it were web-shooters or a portfolio of images. You knew he wanted to make things just as much as he wanted to play monopoly with his aunt and chess with his uncle.

The realization sent guilt rushing through your veins and you opened your mouth to speak when he interrupted.

“You know… I’m not, like, some ripped stud under here.” He threw his arms around. “I did academic decathlon in school and I was in band.”

“You’re a band kid?” You asked with a breathy laugh. It was news to you. But now that you thought about it, you could imagine him playing the trumpet or flute—although you couldn’t imagine him being good at it. For a web-slinging superhero, he seriously lacked coordination.

“Yeah…” His voice dropped. “I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I thought you’d think it was lame.”

“I don’t think it’s lame.” You wished you could look into his eyes and reassure him anything he did could never be lame to you.

“And half of this stuff—“ he motioned at his web shooters “—I made from dumpster parts. I don’t have a fancy lab or new tech to work with. I can barely afford my metro card.”

“What? You think I’m some gold digger?”

“No, I just… I thought you expected someone more exciting. Not some band kid who can’t afford a ride to tenth street.”

“Is that what you think I’m looking for?”

He shrugged.

“Wow, Peter, you really don’t know me.”

You wished you could see his face. Did he smile at your use of his name? It felt foreign but you would get used to it. You wanted to get used to it. You wanted to say his name in the playful way he said yours when he was excited and the grainy way he did when he was sad. You wanted to sing his name, shout it, and whisper it.

“Y/n—oh, shit, sorry, um what do I call you?”

“Y/n is fine.” You smiled, and his lenses expanded.

“I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head, running to hug him. His arms lifted behind your back when your chests collided and his suit scratched against your cheek when you shoved your face into his shoulder. He lifted his arm slowly and you pulled back when you felt a warm breath on your neck.

You were met with a head of messy brown locks with slight curls to them. They were the first thing you noticed with their brisk movements, and you wanted to run your fingers through them, but didn’t. After, you noticed his crooked nose and the way his brown eyes shone in the moonlight. You could’ve sworn you saw freckles dotted around but it was too dark to tell. You ran your fingers over his face, lightly, and he parted his lips. Now that you’d seen his face, you couldn’t imagine him looking any other way. You moved a strand of hair out of his face, gaping into his eyes. Any other day you would scold yourself for being so awkward, but not today. Today you had seen Spider-Man—Peter—for the first time, and he was definitely a stud.

When you didn’t react, he cleared his throat.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You shook your head, grabbing his face, and pressing your lips into his. Your heart stalled as you waited for him to kiss back. Was this too much? You hadn’t asked if it was okay—a decision you now regretted. You felt your chest explode with butterflies and began to pull away when he kissed back. His clothed hand rested against your cheek in a way that felt softer than before, sending the butterflies into a frenzy. Your knees felt weak and he must’ve noticed because his hands traveled to your back, holding you steady. You took in the non-industrial scent of his skin which smelt oddly like pumpkin spice, and it felt like hours until you pulled back, meeting his soft brown eyes. They were wide with surprise and sent a cheeky smile to your lips.

“I’m not disappointed.”

His pink lips pulled into a thin smile you couldn’t wait to get used to.

“So…” You began. “Can I get a last name?”

“We’ll work up to that.” He said, and you chewed your lip before kissing him again.

———

a/n: reposted w/ full version. enjoy!

don’t repost!

#peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurbs #peter parker x reader #peter parker fics #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshots #peter parker x you #peter parker x gn!reader #peter parker x gender neutral reader #mcu!peter x reader #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter fics #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x you #tom!peter x reader

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syneilesis · 1 year

Text

[fic+art] From Her Mouth of Strawberry

From Her Mouth of Strawberry

Ikemen Vampire | Vlad x Main Character/Reader | M | 2.7k words

ao3 link

So this is what everlasting love feels like.

An epilogue of Vlad’s Romantic Ending route. With art.

A/N: OH MY GOD I MADE IT. SOMEWHAT. HAPPY NEW YEAR. I post this as Lady Gaga plays in my neighbor's house. I wanted to finish and post this before I get Jossed in a couple of hours. Vlad's sequel is coming! So early, wow! Forgive the quality of writing in this one; I wrote parts of it with a clear mind, I wrote most of it dizzy and sleepy and trying to concentrate while my neighbors sing merrily in their karaoke (70s-80s songs is 👌, I approve). Title and the quoted verses are from Charles Baudelaire's Les Métamorphoses du vampire. Very apt, very apt.

I also have art for it! Which I'll include in a reblog, so as not to disrupt the flow of reading.

Tagging and shoutout to @akintosalt and @evil-quartett, who have witnessed my descent to madness finishing this fic and whom I have greeted as 2023 sauntered here with pomp and swag. This is for you guys! 💖

On the first morning of eternity Vlad is next to your side on the bed, elbow folded against the mattress, his upper body and head lifted to watch you slowly part your eyelids. The sun shimmers through the tall windows of his room, casting a long thick line across the carpeted floor, like golden lava that would sink you if you dip your feet in. The diffuse glow of the natural light hits Vlad’s skin and hair, his eyes shining like revelation.

“Good morning,” he whispers.

Something in your heart blooms, warm and soft under his radiance. There’s a little ache in there, too, a light squeeze that’s almost exquisite in its significance.

His other hand leaves its place and migrates to your face, knuckles ghosting along the corner of your eye down to your cheek then to the corner of your lips, and you tilt slightly to place a kiss there. Vlad smiles, and he leans down to press his own lips to yours. He opens his mouth and you taste strawberries.

When you separate, you smile back at him and say, “Good morning, Vlad.”

Outside, birds twitter among the freshly blossomed garden flowers, and Paris wakes languidly into the arrival of spring.

The days following your transformation march on like a steady drumbeat, rhythm never ruined. It’s as if nothing momentous happened; the world feels the same, still is the same, but Vlad knows that everything has changed. It’s in the way he views the world now. Before, it treads on the path leading to destruction; but next to you, the world seems to radiate renewal. The lens with which he sees things shifted, allowing diffraction, the direction of his ambition spreading into a dream, encompassing every scope, every shape, every color.

Before, Vlad was a god carrying the fate of the world on his lonely shoulders. Now, he has descended from the heavens to walk among humans.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. A bit weird—I can feel the sharpness of my incisors against my tongue—but not bad weird.”

“Ah. If you encounter any problems, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Of course.” A pause. “Hey, Vlad?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad—I’m glad that we found each other this time.”

An exhale of a laugh. “I’m glad, too. Didn’t we promise each other? I’ll find you wherever you are, whatever it takes.”

Years—decades, centuries—flickered by like a rapid flipping of pages. Empires rise and fall, and Vlad observed the milestones of mankind with the benevolent glint of a ruler surveying his kingdom. He’d been to plenty of places, all in search of the girl who saved him. He’d looked for her under the rust-colored roofs of Firenze, amidst the resplendent natural beauty of Zhongguo, against the tropical heat of Las islas Felipinas, and dozens more—the beat of the heart seeking for an echo, the one with the warmth of embrace and the mellisonant voice that dripped with pure light.

He recalled: they never did finish that conversation, did they. The one where she was about to part something. Sometimes, as he lay down on his bed, before he drifted off to sleep, Vlad wondered what she’d say. It must’ve been important, because her face was pulled taut, almost crumpled into tears, like she couldn’t wait for the words to cascade out of her mouth. That was probably his only regret. When he returned to the mansion, drenched in snow and blood, she was already gone, a wraith whisked off by the biting wind.

Would he find out what she’s supposed to say? Would he ever in his lifetime?

The question of thirst emerges right after. You know, based on your experiences with the residents in the mansion, that vampires can curb their bloodlust by drinking Blanc. Perfectly safe, perfectly moral. Food is an indulgence they all partake in, as evidenced by Vlad’s childlike preference for strawberries.

Charles offers to supply you Blanc, but you decline, insisting that you can provide on your own. It’s one thing to live forever; it’s another to be self-sufficient about it. Even if your life has upended and evolved, the same principles apply when trying not to be burdensome about it.

But it’s strange and baffling, this constant thirst. The others appear to be unsaddled by this dryness in the throat—or at least unbothered by it. This intensifies whenever Vlad is around, the itch clawing inside until it climbs to the roof of your mouth, and it all feels like sand, coarse and insidious, with parched tongue.

Of course, one look from Vlad and he understands.

“Drink from me,” he says later that night, when you’re seated side by side and only the moonlight reveals the expressions you have for each other. He takes your hand and nuzzles the inside of your wrist, eyes closed as if savoring the sensation of warmth. In bliss, reverential; his warm puffs of breath against your pulse sending heat all over your body.

He slants another gaze at you, this time beckoning, and you’re entranced by the hooded slits of red—passion, passion, burning passion in his blood-red eyes.

A tongue darts out. Licks the skin where your pulse is leaping against the wet, hot pressure. Vlad shuts his eyes and moans, ragged and so full of want that a shaky sigh escapes from you.

“Drink from me,” he murmurs again, the words pressed into your palm, and you can feel his lips shape the words against your skin. It tickles you, and you try to jerk your hand away but his grip on you is tight, intent on never letting go. “Love is tied to bloodlust,” he continues. “You desire my blood because you love me. I desire your blood because I love you. So drink from me, and I will drink from you.”

He unbuttons his shirt and exposes a shoulder. A portion of his scar peeks around the fabric. Softly, tenderly, he guides your head to his neck, and your lips meet his skin, clean but with a trace of sweetness, petals. The hand on your wrist remains, rubbing your pulse with his thumb.

“Go on,” he says, voice thick and encouraging. Even in love and lust Vlad is always the one who gives first.

“But,” you answer, your words muffled and hot; Vlad tilts his head back to provide more access. “Won’t this hurt you?”

“At first, yes. But I promise it will feel good for me and for you. Go on, take what you need.”

The sensation of fangs piercing flesh feels weird, but when Vlad’s blood bursts through and you finally get a taste of it, it’s a whole new thing altogether. Vlad gasps, a full-body shudder tremoring through him, his free hand grabbing your hips and tugging closer. You follow until you’re both pressed together, with nary a space in between. He reclines on the bed until you’re on top of him, still sucking at his neck for blood, the only sound in the room apart from his harsh breathing.

When your tongue swipes at the wounds Vlad groans, bringing both his hands on your hips and grinding. You both gasp at the hot pleasure.

“When she had drained the marrow out of all my bones, / When I turned listlessly amid my languid moans, / To give a kiss of love—” Vlad recites, almost like a mantra, almost like a prayer, his voice catching and clicking in the throes of ecstasy.

Vlad finds your eyes, hazy but lucid enough to ask, “Have you drunk enough?” A thumb caresses your lips and it glides easily because of the blood. Vlad inspects his thumb between you, fascinated before he brings it to his own lips, tastes his own blood. The sight of it makes you swallow, and the ache within you just grows and grows until it erupts and the words spill out of your lips like molten desire.

“No, I don’t think it will ever be enough, but that’s all right. What I want now—what I want—” You close your eyes and exhale a shuttered breath. When you look at Vlad again—his splayed hair like silver halo, his half-mast eyes drunk in pleasure, his parted lips stained with his own blood—all you see is a godling who deserves to be loved and worshiped like this. “What I want is to give you everything, so it’s your turn to drink from me.”

And like a giant wave he surges to crash against your lips, devouring your entire being. You welcome it, welcome him, your own hands unbuttoning the rest of his shirt then sliding inside to feel his skin, the hard planes of his muscles, the scar over his heart.

In this night of whispered sighs and ghostly touches, your heartbeats are in sync, and Vlad’s eyes glisten with pure want. Nothing else matters except the desire of flesh, your blood beating in want of him, and time dilutes and the world vanishes until only you and he remain.

The funny thing about memory was: accuracy wasn’t the point.

The expectant stare of the painter tilted sideways as Vlad stuttered into a halt, dreadful realization that he could no longer remember the face of his beloved savior. Sure he remembered the shade of her hair, waterfall brown that curled playfully midway. He remembered her pristine shirt, the color of snow before spilt blood—the color of her skirt. He remembered the shade of her skin illuminated by candlelight. But when it came to the most important thing of all: featureless light, uncrisp and blotchy.

It was funny because the way he felt about her was a solid, crisp thing, as palpable as the objects he could touch. The ember-warm ink-bloom that suffused his blood when she held him was indelible in his heart and memories; he could still remember the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat against his ear. Seedling-hope and ironclad belief tied together in her name. He’d find her, one day, even after the world ended, because he believed.

He remembered the sound of her breath before she opened the wardrobe that hid him from the world.

He remembered the buried sorrow between her words, threatening to claw out.

He remembered her hands, soft and delicate and yearning, and he ached to love.

He remembered her sweet scent—

He remembered her—

He remembered—

It’s been weeks since you’ve been cooped up in Vlad’s castle, adjusting to your new, eternal body and its needs, and now it seems to be the right time to venture out again.

So you visit the mansion.

The astonished faces of the residents when they see you are a sight to behold, and they pile on you like you’re their long-lost youngest sibling suddenly returned home.

Le Comte has to threaten Arthur and Dazai a spanking to pry them away from you. Sebastian declares a dinner party is in order, and it feels like the old days again, before Vlad came into your life and held your heart with snow-coated fingers.

Sebastian refuses your help to wash the dishes when you offered, arguing that the dinner was held in your honor and it’s silly to have you clean up after. Which is why you find yourself in front of the door that started everything.

Eventually Napoleon joins you in reminiscence.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, eyes not leaving the door.

But you turn to him, smiling when he meets your gaze, and say, “There’s no regret when it’s the destiny we chose, you know?”

Napoleon returns your smile, relief gracing his features. He ruffles your hair, the consummate big brother looking out for his siblings. “I’m glad.” He pauses, then adds: “Are you happy?”

That question bears no hesitation. “Yes,” you answer. “I’m very happy.”

Eternity is desire and ache and sorrow and loneliness—

He sinks his fangs into her flesh.

—and now it, too, is happiness.

One day, out of the blue, Vlad declares, “Let’s see the world.”

After consoling Charles and procuring assurances from Faust that he refrain from any funny stuff that Vlad elaborates:

“All the travels I’ve done in the past were always about searching for you. Now that we have found each other, I want to travel again—with you this time.”

And what can you say other than yes?

Decades pass in a snap of fingers, and Vlad’s enjoyed every second of it.

The world has become more precious: empires rose and fell, peace sustains its lilting melody, Vlad’s dream burns steady as life. Seeing the world tastes rich this time, a surprising burst of flavorful experiences—the sweetness of your smile against the backdrop of canola flowers in Jeju Island, the spicy car chase along Berliner Ring after getting accidentally involved in a casino heist, the tangy sunset after hours of café hopping in Vienna, the honeyed secrets exchanged under the bougainvillea-covered balconies in Cartagena.

Next to you the world teems with hope and faith, and Vlad tastes, this time, a robust future.

“Here.” You hand him a cone of ice cream that you bought from a street vendor across the pathway. The one you gave him has the color of flushed pink—strawberry—and yours is bright yellow—cheese. “Tell me what you think.”

There’s a bench a little far off to where you’re going. Vlad studies the ice cream carefully as he sits down, then he takes a lick. It’s light and sweet, a welcome chill on the tongue. The May heat melts it faster, and the ice cream drips down the cone, makes a small puddle in the fold of his index finger.

“This is delicious,” he says, and squints at your own cone. Cheese as an ice cream flavor is odd to him, but you seem to enjoy it. He swaps his hold of the ice cream and offers it to you with his right hand, his left raised to his lips, tongue darting out to lick away the melted cream. “Do you want to try mine?”

“Sure.” You lean towards his proffered hand and try the strawberry. In this close proximity, Vlad can smell your dulcified scent. A pleased hum escapes your throat. “This is good too!”

A first experience for Vlad: eating ice cream together with you as people relish their summer vacation, skipping with buoyant, dancer-steps, their laughter tickling his ears. Teenage girls steal glances in his direction, furtive giggling tucked behind coy hands. Vlad, indulgent, smiles at them, they laugh openly. You look on with amused affection in your eyes, ice cream gone, consumed.

“The last time I went here,” Vlad says, struck with a memory, “ice cream wasn’t introduced yet.”

“Oh? That’s a long time, then.”

“Almost three centuries since I’ve visited. Some buildings I recognize, but plenty have changed.”

It’s been a long time, indeed, but for Vlad, the passage of time runs differently from that of human perception. A blink, a sleep, a long pensive silence. Memories blur, betwixt one point and another. Just like his memories of your face, a gradual erosion attributed to absence and distance; but now, in this moment, Vlad knows that he will no longer forget.

A kilometer from where they sit, the sea murmurs, tranquil, and the people near it attempt to dip their toes into the water before it gets agitated. A month from now, typhoons will come, and the sea will rise and strike and beat the land with its ferocious waves. Vlad finishes his ice cream, the sweetness of strawberry and sugar cone lingering on his tongue.

“There’s a place here that I wanted to go to, but couldn’t the last time I came,” he says.

A beautiful smile blossoms on your lips. “Then let’s go there this time.”

He returns the smile with his own. “Yes, let’s.”

Another first experience: the heels of his shoes clacking against the stone pavement as children run and play tag, circling you and Vlad once, their chatter trailing in the air. His hand finds yours and entwines its fingers with your own, warm and comforting and real. It will continue in the years, decades, centuries—this solid and crisp warmth, this ink-bloom in his veins, your clear, unveiled face.

His dream of peace, of the world eternal, warless and free of destruction, held safe in your hands, beating on.

So this is what everlasting love feels like.

#fic #my fic #Ikemen Vampire #Vlad x Main Character #Vlad x Reader #ikemen vampire vlad #ikemen vampire vlad x mc #ikemen vampire vlad x reader #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp fic #the ice cream they're eating is sorbetes #sorbetes supremacy #cheese sorbetes supremacy

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pikaflute · 1 year

Note

HAI if you have any more oddly specific headcanons u haven't shared about sam and slash or max i would love to hear them

OOOO yes :) ill do both teehee

sam

okay im gonna start with his family cause i wrote some headcanons for them yesterday. he has two sisters who are younger than him. he was really good at taking care of them when he was little because he had to take of a worse child (max) all the time. they tease their big bro about max btw. max joins in. worst fucking husband of the year. they're like 10 years younger than him. their names are sara and sadie. listen the s names are good.

his mom loves him so much. like sam's her little angel. she spoils him rotten when he comes home and max laughs about it and sam tells him to jump off a cliff.

his dad is just like him (autistic). he's a lawyer (user pikaflute always tries to squeeze in lawyers in every media like their life depends on it FUKKKK … why sam’s dad a lawyer all of da sudden) and he's the reason why sam wanted to be a detective. they watched noir films together when sam was young

back to general headcanons now: sam is a gamer. yeah, old pc point and clicks and puzzle games. and arcade games. he's probably secretly really good at newer games but he's rather just relax and take his time and solve shit.

not a morning person. at all. he will not leave the bed until like 10 am and will guzzle a pot of coffee. he just wants to stay in bed. i say let him!

likes to window shop. he will walk around new york with max and when he sees something he likes he will look into the store and will stay there until max has to pull him away.

he can bake. him mom and grandma taught him :). he has max taste his stuff and it just ends up with max eating like 10 cupcakes in like 10 minutes

has like all these figurines of things he knows nothing about. the geek asks him where he got that limited edition collectible miku and sam's like "oh she's just a cute one isn't she?" "sam they made like 100 of these how did you get her" "i found her!"

i'm giving him my greatest struggle: ibs. boys who go through tummy aches are our strongest warriors!

baseball lover. go mets!

max

i know most family headcanons for max give him siblings but. i want to be funny. he's an only child. like he is that kind of asshole (source i'm an only child)

he has two moms. yeah deal with it. lesbianism WIN.

as a kid the only person his moms would let him go play with was sam because max would actually be calm around sam and they wouldn't have to be on high alert for their kid biting someone's head off

he will make accounts to go on forums to argue with people about shit he knows nothing about and is 100% wrong on but will win the argument anyway. he truly has the heart of a poster. he's also banned from most forums and like twitter and facebook

i think he has a bunch of different things he picked up as a hobby. knitting, wood carving, poker (obviously), video games, drawing, pottery, solving puzzles (he sucks at those and asks sam for help), and many more. he can't keep his mind focused, he's gotta do it all!

speaking of video games, he plays violent ones. he likes the blood and gore. it's funny to him. he also plays fighting games online and is extremely toxic to everyone around him. he just like me fr.

he loves spicy food. like he will guzzle spice packets into his open mouth all the time. then he'll get a stomach ache from eating like 15 spicy packets from taco bell

hates hot weather. it makes his fur all puffy and static. he also hates the heat in general, make him irritable (more than usual)

i think he stims a lot. he moves around a lot doing stuff in the games but i think one day sam gets him a fidget toy and max is like oh my god. oh my god sam i could make love to you. and sams like. play with the toy instead jackass. and max does like all the time everyday forever.

hockey lover. go devils!

#sam and max #TEEHEE I HAD FUN WITH THESE

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mogglewrites · 10 months

Text

Stay Still

LukeJamie confession fic (Jamie Ver.)

[Also posted on AO3 and my Twitter as a thread fic]

This fic has two different outcomes and Jamie's ending won the poll, so y'all get to see this first.

Thank you to my friend @miss-evening for being my beta reader! Now let's get to boys being in love 🫡

----------

It's after hours at the Buckler training center. Two men are fighting, each throwing punches and kicks like their lives depend on it.

All over a simple wager.

"The loser has to do whatever the winner wants."

It's childish, really, but too tempting to pass up.

It's a chance.

Jamie sweeps out Luke's legs from under him, tripping him prone, then swiftly climbs up to sit on his chest. The blonde tries to fight him off, but the drunken master pins down his wrists. It takes a little time, but eventually Luke stops resisting. He stares up at Jamie, his hair undone from all the fighting, though he hasn't taken a single swig from his gourd yet. It makes a curtain of black against the lights above, however messy it has gotten.

They both agreed to make this fair. That's why they're fighting here instead of in a random alley on the streets. No chances of passerby interrupting, no stray rubble to kick up into the other's face, no property damage to worry about.

All according to plan.

Jamie's heart is about ready to burst. He's light-headed, but in the best of ways.

"You give?" he asks, hands an iron grip on his rival.

"...Fine," Luke turns his face to the side to avoid eye-contact. But Jamie doesn't care about that right now.

Because he has won.

The Hongkonger whoops in delight and laughs. He lets go of Luke and rolls off to lay down next to him. Yes! Yes, he had won!

"Ughh, that took way too fuckin' long," Jamie groans in relief, stretching out his arms and legs. His muscles are aching and he can hear Luke's breathing from here. They're both exhausted after their fights every time, yet they just keep coming back for more.

Jamie used to be annoyed by Luke. He's always smiling, always so ready to welcome a challenge or anyone who walks through those large double doors. He shines so brightly that Jamie couldn't stand to look at him.

But over time, he grew familiar to that smile, and begins to answer back with one of his own. Their matches used to be filled with insults–not that they aren't anymore, of course–but now they are made in a playful manner. A comment here, a taunt there. Their blows have lost the usual malice and became tests of skill. Who will come out on top this time? It gives him such a rush!

Luke sits up. Tired eyes glance his way, and Jamie returns it, still beaming.

"So, what do you want me to do?" Luke runs a hand through his hair in an effort to style it back into a somewhat presentable look. He's met with a grin.

"Why the rush? You wanna serve me that badly?" he teases at the blonde, pushing himself up as well.

"Just get it over with." Luke's tone is surprisingly neutral. He's expecting Jamie to demand something ridiculous. His best guess is having him grovel at his feet or admit something humiliating.

"Alright, alright. Let me think..." he makes a show of putting a hand on his chin. Honestly, he's doing all these theatrics to buy more time for his heart to settle. His request isn't going to be easy, after all. He needs all the time he can get.

But he's made up his mind! He's going to do it tonight! Regardless of the outcome!

"I want you...to close your eyes and stay still," Jamie finally says.

"What? Are you gonna punch me or something?" Luke narrows his eyes at him.

"Oh please, I already got enough punches in for the day. Look, I promise this won't hurt at all." He's telling the truth. What he has planned is the complete opposite of bodily harm. Why won't he trust him?!

Their gazes lock for a moment. Jamie is being as sincere as he could. He keeps a smile on his face, the very same easygoing one he had since their match is over. He can only hope he will believe him and play along.

Luke sighs once more, accepting his fate, then closes his eyes.

Jamie's smile drops. His heart picks back up again. He gets on his knees and leans closer to Luke.

Fuck, he's handsome...

He takes a few seconds to stare at him. If this doesn't end well, it may as well be his last time seeing Luke's face. He wants to remember it. Every single detail.

Just do it. Like he said, get it over with.

He squeezes his eyes shut and closes his mouth over Luke's.

He senses rather than hears Luke taking a sharp inhale through his nose, but he doesn't pull away. Jamie stays there for a bit before licking at those lips because why the fuck not, right? He may as well do it since this might be the only time he gets to. Luke's lips are softer than he imagined. Hah, he wouldn't put it past the boy scout to use chapstick or something.

He doesn't do much more, and after what feels like an eternity, Jamie withdraws and opens his eyes.

To meet Luke's.

Jamie tries to think of something to say, but comes up short. Those blue eyes hold him in place. His heart might as well burst out of his chest now with how fast it's beating.

Then Luke pulls him in for another kiss and he nearly explodes.

It's not a simple one like before. Luke kisses him like his life depends on it, and Jamie gets swept along for the ride. He gasps, and a moan comes out of him as Luke's tongue delves into his mouth. They separate just to catch their breath and go right back in again.

At some point, Jamie ends up in his rival's lap. Luke is still peppering kisses all over his face and damn it, he just can't stop smiling!

"Down, boy. Jeez, and I thought I was the thirsty one," he holds Luke back with a hand to his shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm just–really, really happy," Luke replies sheepishly, "I mean, I didn't expect you to like me back."

"I didn't expect you to like me either. You didn't exactly give me any hints," Jamie pouts. Luke tucks a strand of black hair behind his ears. He feels like his cheeks are on fire.

"Meanwhile you just kept hitting on me over and over."

"Hey, Jamie Siu doesn't hit on people! Other people hit on Jamie Siu," he huffs. Though he supposes there is some truth to Luke's statement. He has been coming around to see Luke more often after he realized his own feelings. Even going out of his way to seek him out sometimes.

"Yeah, yeah. And you definitely didn't plan to make a bet and kiss me tonight too, huh?" Luke gives him another peck on the cheek. His confession must have been magic, because it turned Luke into a puppy. Jamie leans into the crook of his neck, mumbling something.

"Woulda...done more..."

"What was that?"

"Nothin'. Don't worry about it." Shit! He didn't think Luke would hear that!

Luke only rolls his eyes and tightens the hold he has on Jamie, pressing their bodies closer together.

"Well if it sounds good to you, wanna come back to my place?" he suggests.

"Hm?" Jamie perks up. Is Luke implying what he thinks he is?

"What? You think I'm gonna leave you alone after kissing me like that? No way."

"Taking me home already? I'm not gonna say no-Ah!" He barely finishes his sentence before Luke suddenly stands up with him in his arms. He smacks him on the chest to scold him, but Luke just laughs it off.

Hmph, guess the wager was worth it after all.

#mog writes #lukejamie #street fighter 6 #sf6 #sf6 luke #sf6 jamie #luke sullivan #jamie siu

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pinguinosentado · 8 months

Note

1 4 26 30

1. First OC? I never know what OC actually means so by my own definition I’d have to say Talia. She’s the first character who had no place in Skyrim and, in her first draft, was no one special. Just some normal thief who survived some crazy stuff. She changed a lot for Nightfall and ended up taking on a much more central role in the story at the very end. I still think about what that story would look like and the idea of Eira, Serana, and Talia wandering around together is very fun and chaotic.

4. For the Fallout OCs, Nora very much listens to the classics of the era, loves Pistol Packin Mama and all the other stuff DCR plays. Olivia listens to more modern stuff and is always digging through the local market hoping to find a holotape of some underground indie band she listened to in college. Her taste in music is awful and Piper lets her know it every day once they’re living together.

Skyrim OCs, Eira wants her bards to play not sing. Most of Skyrims tavern songs don’t really do it for her. Unlike Alanna who is all about Ragnar the Red and pretty much anything else she can belt out the lyrics for. Sayena loves anything that isn’t about her but of course prefers music from Hammerfell, something very hard to find in Skyrim. She makes fast friends with the redguard hiding in Whiterun over music from home and complaining about how Skyrim wasn’t ready for any instrument more complicated than the lute.

26. Favorite books right now are definitely the Discworld novels, in particular I’d recommend the Night Watch series and the Tiffany Aching books, although Going Postal holds a special place in my heart for being so fantastically unhinged.

Also This is How You Lose the Time War. Don’t wait for someone on Twitter with a funny name to recommend it. It’s very short and very good. Give it a try.

30. How am I doing? I’m tired but honestly very excited. I really want to get back to writing and now that Starfield is out I have a feeling I’ll be writing a lot of stories about space adventures very soon.

#pinguino answers #thanks for the ask!

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justmoonythings · 2 years

Text

I never considered my coming out experience to be fortunate. I never thought I would look back one day and say “I was so lucky” But the last couple days have taught me that I was in fact lucky to have come out 8 years ago, and not today. Because seeing how some people treat questioning people, treat the lgbtq community as a secret club you don’t get to go in unless you fit a certain type, and can show for a specific experience you get shunned and kicked out and treated like garbage... I am lucky. Seeing the discourse happening on here, on twitter, anywhere really, made me realize that I would have not wanted to come out today. And not because I consider myself big or important enough to get hate, but because I came out back then, because I had a massive community backing me up for my experience and my choice and my lack of labels and my inability to be true to myself before I was ready.

I came out at the delicate age of 13. I knew I liked the same gender back then. I knew it then and I know it now. And nothing has changed except the labels I don’t wear anymore.

I was raised into religion. Into christianity to be exact. And I was raised protestant. I was raised by going to church once or even twice a week and when I found my sexuality to be NOT STRAIGHT I was at church four to five days of the week.

The first time I heard about homosexuality was through the F-word. My mother refused to address them any differently. My brothers bullied other boys for “appearing gay” and my little sister once told me the thought of two girls or two guys kissing made her want to throw up.

But I still told someone about my assumed sexuality, because I had people online who supported me in a way that I cannot express. They were here when needed and made sure that the lgbt space I learned about was a safe one that accepted everyone who did not consider themselves straight.

From my first girl crush, who I don’t talk to anymore, but still follow on instagram, to a guy I met through fanfics that told me about himself and his boyfriend. People called him a predator because he was older than me, but he has never made me feel anything but safe. He was the one who gave me my first online nickname, and was someone who taught a lot about bi-sexuality. I never met him. I don’t have contact to him anymore. I wouldn’t even know how to reach out to him at this point, but he was a big influence on my life as it is now.

And knowing how I cried myself to sleep for years because of me being queer, and the fight I had with my mother when I came out, and the fact that she still refuses to accpet my sexuality, stings. And I would have never in a million years considered this fortunate.

But here I am, at 22, witnessing as another 22 year old gets ripped to shreds because he does not have the “lgbt experience” or because he doesn’t fit your stencil of a “lgbt person”

Seeing someone my age get ripped apart like this over something that should be supported and celebrated, makes my heart ache. I know this would have ruined me at 13. I know if this is what I had witnessed at 13, I would have prayed to God every single night to make me not gay.

I would have promised and tried my best to be as straight as can be.

So please, when you sit down and consider hating on someone for their sexual orientation, always remember: They might not see it, but your followers, who rely on safety, they will. They will see it, and read it and they will take it to heart. And you can ruin lives that way.

And I wanna welcome Dream and everyone who is questioning or unlabled to the LGBTQ communtiy, you are valid and loved just the way you are. Your experience cannot be wrong and I hope you remember that labels are not a necessity.

#lgbt #coming out #coming out experience #drama #dreamwastaken #dreamblr

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4dtk · 2 years

Note

was having a normal day scrolling thru twitter until i saw this 💀 https://twitter.com/matchanh/status/1451727793826373632?s=20

BUT if it's okay, since your smuts are *chef's kiss* can i request softdom mark with this?

why do i always rmb irl p*rn whenever it's mark... LMAO anyway. the prompt only comes at the end honey, hope you don't mind

warnings: cunnilingus/eating out, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, kinda mirror sex, breeding/creampie, irl p*rn at the end

N***SFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI

mark’s breath fans across your thighs, teasing your clit with small gentle strokes that as you jolting every few seconds. he’s gentle like always, looking up at you with innocent eyes and a teasing smile like he doesn’t drive you crazy.

“that feel good?” his voice is raspy from the lack of use apart from the performance, the fatigue lying in his bones rather as the group was to attend a gala with a display of their recent comeback. it was like that most nights, where the recent comeback became priority in recording, dancing, performing, and you aren’t mad. you never will be, knowing that it was mark’s passion.

though you can’t lie in how your body aches for him. so desperate to the point where you’d take matters into your own hands as you guide him through the winding structure of the hotel, gala forgotten and the other members drunk. mark’s now crouching on the bathroom floor, cold marble against his dress pants with your legs spread.

you pout, “hurry. the sink’s fucking freezing.” mark giggles, sending your heart racing before he nudges the fabric to the side, leaving no time for your cunt to be exposed to the cold air like you always complained again before suckling on your clit. it elicits a soft moan from you, careful and calculated as you place your bets on the locked bathroom door.

soon, your hands find purchase in his green hair, pulling him in more and more so you can feel every bit of his tongue. he eats you out gently, switching between your clit and your hole that continues to leak onto your outfit. “oh my god… mark!”

“yeah- mmh, that’s it baby. keep saying my name,” he slurps your juices up, producing such lewd, disgusting noises that you take pleasure in, knowing how mark loved your cunt. the large bathroom also provides the crazy amount of echo in it that you’re almost embarrassed to be there, wondering if anyone could hear the moans spilling from your lips.

“’s good- feels s’good, mark-!” it’s clear that mark’s frustrated with how long he’s been away from you too, wrapping his arms around your thighs so he could get every part of your pussy and your dizzying nectar. the way he hums and vibrates against your clit makes every breath shaky, every hand squeeze tighter, every moan sounds whinier. his tongue hits a sensitive spot and you go against his strength, closing your thighs around his head. “p-please, ‘m gonna-”

you only can see white as your thighs tremble around him, releasing all over his face while he continues his ministrations, leaving you hot and bothered for you to ride out your high with a heaving chest and soft moans leaving your throat. “feeling okay?”

mark only laughs when you give him a feigned glare, standing up to let you taste yourself on his tongue. with a hum and skilled hands, he’s already unbuckled the suffocating trousers where it reveals his strained boxers.

“are you feeling okay?” the other rolls his eyes, patting your thigh to signal you to get off, a low grumble of i can’t reach the counter on his lips. you coo at his height, either way, reassuring he had all the sinks and counters in the world to try out when you happen to buy furniture next time. it gets the other excited, turning you around to let you observe how ruined he’s already got you.

“you done teasin’ me, angel?” there’s small kisses on your neck as he whispers the question, tugging lightly on your hair to get your eyes back on the mirror. “want you to look at yourself while i fuck you, yeah?”

mark can’t contain himself, entering into you with a long whine and a large hand spread across your torso, the wet noises already contributing to the immense pleasure the both of you were feeling. as he sinks deeper into you, your moans couldn’t stop coming, with a mixture of his name and pleas for him to go faster.

he’s rutting into you in no time with the delicious sounds of his pelvis slapping against your ass, gasping out at how each thrust has him pulling on your hair again and again that grants you access to your fucked-out face. in a quick moment of clarity, you can hear the rush of guests outside, of questions of why the door to the bathroom was locked. none of you gave much thought — you’re drunk on how his cock moves in and out of you, mark drools over how your pussy fits him like a glove.

“fuuuck- baby, you’re-” mark can’t form any words, thrusting so hard into you that you can’t help but fall forward, eyes still trained on your mouth making pornographic noises. the hand that’s on your torso travels down to rub lazy circles on your clit, making you squirm against the cold marble that manages to permeate through the material of your dress.

“s’pretty. you’re so pretty, aren’t you?” mark asks, lips lingering around your earlobe where his breath heats your ears up. your head moves against him, nodding incoherently at the prompt.

“‘m close- mark-“ you whimper out, already sensitive from the previous climax that you find the knit in your tummy tightening sooner than usual, voice lost and lips speechless from the sensations. with a grunt, mark eyes you through the mirror as his hips stutter, his thrusts turn sloppy. you’re aware of his approaching orgasm with the way he taps against your skin, but he always puts you before him.

that’s why he’s whispering about how you’re his good girl. about how you want to cream his cock like a good girl that that’s all he can feel that you convulsing around his length that’s still moving in and out of you, however lazy it felt due to his tiredness. mark makes sure you’re cumming hard, make sure you’re seeing stars until all you know is his cock.

there’s a shaky gasp into your neck when he cums right after, painting your walls white unexpectedly. he loves the feeling either way, of how your pussy drags along his shaft. stilling in you, you can feel spurts of his hot cum leaking into you, mixing with your juices until you appear slumped against the sink.

with a gentle yank, he’s turning you in his arms, burying all of him in your neck where you only smile softly. even with his seed dripping out, you can’t bring yourself to move, feeling his giggle on your skin when he sees how it leaks onto the floor.

“we’re gonna have to clean that up, right?” you raise a brow.

“what kinda question was that? of course,” you tease him, pressing a kiss onto his forehead that’s perspiring, receiving another giggle as his arms tighten around you.

“i think we should probably sneak out. i’ll text johnny,” mark proposes, but makes no move to retreat from the comfort of your embrace. he was growing anxious, though, by the amount of people lingering at the foot of the door, but he was tempted to make an announcement that they should just head to the second floor.

with one more look towards you, mark realises it’s not too bad of an idea, exchanging a smile with you before puffing up his chest, redirecting the attendees away from the bathroom where he could fuck you senseless even more.

you couldn’t wait.

aha...... have fun (it's irl p*rn, like i said before, please don't click unless you're comfortable!)

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honouredsatoru · 3 years

Text

JJK Men Showing Up at Your Doorstep

pic cr. AnimeZerori on twitter

warnings : not-so-subtle implications of sex, praise kink, unedited.

author's note : I'm too lazy to proofread this. I also genuinely don't know how the nsfw elements managed to make its way into this. It was supposed to be fluff + crack aha.

genre : fluff + crack + nsfw

Saturday, 9:04pm.

You're watching your favourite movie series, The Conjuring when the sound of your doorbell ringing caught your attention. A nerve striking shiver ran down your spine as you slowly made your way to the door. You looked through the peephole and there they are. 6 men, standing right in front of your doorstep. Your hand started to shake the moment you heard Gojo's voice flowed through the layers of your mahogany red door ;

"Open up baby. We ain't gonna jump on you"

You mustered up the remaining drip of courage your poor soul owns, gulping down your saliva for you must face the destiny you were born to go through. You opened up the door and before you even knew it.

It's 10:48pm.

Your house is now loud as it's filled with laughter, occasional ecstatic screaming with the boys getting into an arm wrestling matches, Toji and Sukuna breaking a vase or two because they lost to Gojo, you sighed because you know that you got to buy a new vase, you've always been a sucker for pottery, Nanami sitting in the dining room, flipping through the pages of your thesis regarding ancient civilizations, not paying a single attention to the other men, ignoring Gojo's occasional

"Yoo~ hoo~ Nanami baby~"

Geto and Choso snickering at one another while playing table football, sipping on a shared can of Coke Zero. And you? You're just smiling at your view, slowly shaking your head before noticing your boyfriend's azure blue eyes staring into your soul with that soft yet cocky smile decorating his face.

It's 12:21am.

Things got calmer as they sat down in your living room, munching on snacks, with Gojo's arm around you, keeping you close to him, every so often wincing because of the scary scenes, Sukuna laughing at Gojo for being scared before returning his attention to the movie, Geto and Nanami silently discussing the movie's plot holes, Toji slowly drifting to sleep only to be annoyed by Choso grabbing the hem of his shirt.

It's 2:56am.

What time is it? Where is everyone? Oh right, they went back home. You wondered in that head of yours, trying to collect your train of thoughts only for it to be shattered every time by his sensual touches to your overly stimulated body. You're whimpering, hand weakly covering your dainty mouth to prevent your sweet, salacious moans from escaping. Gojo chuckles at the steaming hot sight underneath his body, leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead, tip of your nose, eyelids, cheeks, and lastly removing your hand, pinning it above your head, locking your lips with kisses that are a mixture of love, lust and passion. Sweat covering your body as Gojo's herculean member thrusting in and out of your puffy, cherry red cunt, your arousal coating his dick, a tuft of white hair and your inner thighs stained and glistened by the moon's frail light penetrating your bedroom.

"You really are enjoying this, huh? Look at you baby, so pretty, so fucking needy for me. I love you. I love how you are all mine, my dear darling."

You can only nod at him, presenting him that sweet, fucked out smile with the tip of your tongue out, panting as your eyes turned glossy, back arched, toes curled, occasional kitten-like squeals coming out of you. Oh, how his heart squeezed and oozed with love at this sight.

"Poor baby, she can't say a thing for her mind's too dazed under my love trance. Ah- fuck doll, you're trying to milk me, huh?"

It's 5:51am.

Your body is aching, your eyes slowly opening. You felt his body next to yours, lightly snoring with his luscious locks on the side as gravity pinned it down. You emitted a soft groan, your back and thighs giving you a tad feeling of discomfort but you don't mind, you liked it. No. You loved it. You found yourself being swept away by another wave of drowsiness, beckoning you to another session of peaceful slumber, your body gladly accepting it, especially when you are in the arms of the strongest one.

tags : @tojisveryown @sixeyesgojo @sukirichi @mahitochan @nkogneatho @sirthisisa-wendys

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malleux · 4 years

Note

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE

spell [3]. | corpse husband

part one ; part two

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff

-> Warnings: Anxiety, Self Doubt, Cursing, Hate Comments

-> A/N: here’s the long awaited part three! it’s definitely longer than the last chapters, but genuinely thank you all for 300 followers in literally 4 days lol. also, i wrote this under the small assumption that corpse’s main love language is physical touch!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

You didn’t realize that it was possible to shake so much. You were practically panicking- just from standing in front of an apartment door, ready to knock and meet the man who changed your life.

You’d woken up this morning bright and early. The Facetime call was still on with Corpse and small snores could be heard from his line. You had prayed that he’d gotten at least more than an hour, but doubted it as you hung up and sent a message about when you’d be leaving.

Corpse soon messaged back saying that he was awake as you finally finished packing- you’d stopped last night when he called- so you got in your car and drove the two hours it took to get to San Diego.

So now you stood in front of his apartment, practically trembling. Why you were so anxious, you didn’t know. You’d been talking to him for how long now? And it was never awkward.

But things could easily change when you met him in real life, couldn’t they?

You shook those thoughts out of your head and mustered up enough courage to knock on Corpse’s door, already becoming out of breath from such a simple gesture.

A crash sounded from in the apartment, followed by a small ‘fuck’ that made your heart flip. Soon after, the door opened and you looked up, finally coming eye to eye with him. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face, mirroring his own as he smiled at you as well.

“Hi.” You internally smacked yourself for not saying more, but that’s truly all that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Hey. You’re uh- you’re so much prettier in real life.” Corpse responded, looking nearly everywhere but you.

You flushed. “And you’re super attractive, but I already suspected that.”

You could tell he was taken aback by your compliment because he suddenly became even more shy, silently moving out of the doorway and gesturing for you to enter.

“I’m going to film again with everyone in a few minutes, but first I can show you my bedroom so you can make yourself comfortable.” Corpse said after he closed the door. “You can sleep in there and I’ll stay on the couch-“

“Absolutely not.” You interjected, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“But you’re the guest and I’m not about to let you sleep on my couch.”

“And you’re the owner of this apartment and I’m not going to take over your space like that. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Corpse groaned and reached his arm out towards you. You thought he was going to just shove your shoulder away for being stubborn, but instead he wrapped his arm completely around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as a hug. You grinned and turned, giving him a full hug and resting your cheek against his chest as his chin laid on your head.

“I’m for real glad you came to visit.” He murmured into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go. “Do you wanna stream with me tonight or just chill and watch?”

꧁꧂

“Corpse is streaming Among Us again with Sean, Felix, Rae, Sykkuno, Dave, and Leslie!”

“Where’s Y/N? I miss #CorpseY/N !!”

Twitter was truly your go-to platform when you were bored. You’d been scrolling on it for about thirty minutes now, laying on a small couch that Corpse had in his gaming room.

The man himself was sitting across the room at his desk, talking loudly as he defended himself from being accused as Imposter.

You continued to scroll, feeling a little anxious that somehow Corpse just magically knew that you were looking through your ship tag with him. These were your only worried thoughts until you went past your first… unsavory comment of the day.

“Y/N isn’t playing with them again today. Maybe she finally got the hint that they don’t want her around.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored it, but couldn’t help the rather loud sigh that escaped your lips.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to mute the mic for a second. Everything’s good, don’t worry.” Corpse said into his mic before turning around and facing you. “Is everything okay?”

Turning the phone off and laying it on your chest, you contemplated telling Corpse the truth. He’d just worry about you and you didn’t want that. But he already was worried about you- he’d muted Among Us just to check on you.

“Why are people so mean to others?”

Corpse studied you for a minute before patting his lap. “Come here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused. Now come here.”

You stood up and cautiously walked towards the man, who sat before you expectantly. He playfully rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his lap sideways. Your back rested against one arm of his gaming chair while your legs draped across the other.

Corpse had one arm reaching around your back, placing his fingers on the keyboard while the other rested on top of your knees, grabbing the computer mouse. You laid your head on Corpse’s shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck.

“It’s in that shipping hashtag, isn’t it? I swear- whoever says that shit about you is dead wrong. Tell me if it gets worse, I’ll put them back in their fucking place. Nobody gets to decide who I’m with or who’s worthy of me.”

You only nodded and closed your eyes, breathing in Corpse’s cologne as he unmuted his mic once more to defend his honor, much like he was ready to defend you.

꧁꧂

Your body ached.

As you had argued your first day with Corpse, you’d been sleeping on his couch for four days now. The first night was okay- his couch was rather comfortable, but it didn’t compare to a bed. Now, your back, shoulders, and neck were killing you.

Every day, 7am would roll around and you would wake up, the soreness preventing you from sleeping in longer.

Usually, you would go into Corpse’s room and talk to him as he messed around on his laptop while sitting in his bed, but today when you entered, he was finally sleeping. It was the first time you’d seen him rest since you’d arrived and you quietly left, not wanting to disturb his much-needed sleep.

You made your way to his small kitchen, pulling out the few groceries that he had in his refrigerator to make breakfast.

Corpse often ate fast foods and takeout, and apologized earlier in the week for not having much to eat. You reassured him that it was okay- that him just letting you visit was enough- and now, you were determined to make it up to him with the best breakfast in bed ever.

You were halfway through making breakfast when the soft thump of feet echoed in the doorway before a chin planted itself on your shoulder.

“Whatcha cookin?” You practically shuddered at Corpse’s morning voice before suddenly gasping and shoving him out of the kitchen.

“No! No!” You pushed him back to his room, “Stay! Go back to bed, now!”

Right as you turned to go back to the kitchen, Corpse caught your wrist and pulled you down onto the bed with him. You practically squealed as you fell, making him laugh.

“Why? What’s going on?” He turned to face you with a teasing smile.

“I was making you breakfast in bed! I was gonna surprise you when you woke up, but you ruined it.” You pouted.

“Aw, poor baby.” His hand reached up and brushed a stray hair out of your face before he traced down your jawline, reaching your chin and using his finger to tilt it up. “I think I’ve got a better surprise, though.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but before you could say anything his lips were on yours. Your heart stopped, but you almost immediately melted into his kiss, bringing your own hand up to cup his cheek while his moved to rest on your waist.

Corpse soon propped himself up on his elbow, never once leaving your lips- just deepening the kiss. He smiled and gave you a few more pecks before finally pulling away and looking at you in adoration.

“Those little hate comments? They’re wrong. If anything, I don’t deserve you. You’ve still got me under a little spell and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Corpse, you deserve the world and I’d be honored to be the one to give it to you.”

“God, you’re perfect for me.”

You couldn’t say anything else. You could only lay beneath him, admiring the man who was now yours. Corpse leaned down again to capture you in another kiss, but you suddenly jerked away before you could lose yourself again.

“Shit, the pancakes!”

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spell taglist: @tanchosanke @paoisabelll @save-the-sky @yukinesekki98 @stephn-prkr @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @lustypielita @bi-andready-tocry @coruscaret

corpse taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions @corbins-kinda-smart @harryhighkey @sokkaspaintings @saturn2000 @a-dot-dev @bean04 @helena-way07 @tooturntashbash @locallolli @simonsbluee @redperson58 @reddeserths @annshit @corpsie-bby @emperor-pizza @vacaprincess @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @rolls-and-rolex @supernovavision @bestgirlkonan @hughugh20 @theolwebshooter @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @shinyyoonie @milybones @propertyofdindjarin @qatiee @sunshineandrainyflowers @dontlookatmeidk @kxsmicsmain @corpsesgirl @witchybarb

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#fanfiction #x reader #fic blog #writing #corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagines #corpse imagines #series #spell #part three

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