#and fucked up. that is a very fucked up play. intentionally of course it's an antiwar commentary.

[blujayonthewing]

[hylianengineer]

The fun thing about living with a theatre major is that I get to be the rubber duck for art projects and literary analysis. This is great because I love literary analysis but don't get to take lit. classes anymore.

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy ���

warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.

dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.

B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.

dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.

this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.

E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.

we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.

dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.

G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.

dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.

H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.

dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.

I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.

he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.

dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.

say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.

the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.

M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.

dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?

N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.

I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.

you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.

P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.

dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.

Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.

if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.

R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.

dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.

dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.

T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.

ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.

U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.

dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.

V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.

dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).

dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.

‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.

Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.

dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.

Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.

he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.

[backwzzds]

can we talk about how konig would be someone who’s quiet when he gets jealous…then when y’all get home he js absolutely goes HAMMMM….

the way i got so excited to write this…it’s actually way longer than i intended but idgaf! part 2 soon 😏

NO BC YOU LITERALLY WOULDNT GET HOW HE’D BE SO QUIET LIKE ???

“papa, i don’t understand what i did wrong,” you’d frown at your man with an annoyed whine. könig, who was a whooping 6’10 would only give you a heavy grunt in response. you’d be on the way back to his car from the mall, dozens of your victoria’s secret and H&M bags held in his visibly large hand. the moment könig reached before you (with help of his tree-like long legs anyway), he opened the door for you, the balaclava on his face making his features ten times harder.

no matter how mad the big bear was at you—or more so, what you happened to get yourself involved in—he’d never disrespect you. anything other than sexually, at least. stepping on the custom made step for your smaller figure, you slide into the huge seat of his completely blacked out bmw suv, allowing him to shut the door behind you. you nearly jump at the visible shake of the car beneath your bottom.

you play with your curls as könig carefully sets your bags on the floor behind your seat. because his was set all the way back to accommodate for his long legs, your seat had the better amount of space for your things. when könig finally got back in the car, he immediately started it, causing the monsterous growl of his deleted muffler to come alive.

and he wouldn’t even break a sweat at you !!! you’re over here going over all your actions for the day, step by step, and all könig could think through his mind was what positions he was gonna force you in when you two got back home.

the sound of könig’s car matched the energy that was coursing through his veins. he know you didn’t do anything wrong; not intentionally at least. but the selfish ass part of him wanted nothing more than for your pretty little ass to sit in the passenger’s seat, overthinking on what the fuck you possibly could have done to rile him up this much.

the ride home is everlastingly silent as the small of your voice breaks the thick tension, “baby,” you don’t know how to further articulate your words. “i know you’re mad at me. i wanna fix it, but i can’t it you won’t talk to me. and you’ve been dead ass silent since we been in the mall.”

könig keeps his cool, though. he knew his silence was practically eating at you alive, shaming you with guilt for something you didn’t even intentionally mean to do. but with the way your pretty body sits in the black skims dress you’re in, accompanied by your black and white dunks—his eyes could practically frame your nipples right through the see through fabric, and he was sure that fucking doorman at victoria’s secret could have as well.

you keep talking. “was it the dude at VS? i swear, i made it very known that you were my man and—“ your words are endless blabber to him as the disgusting and pervasive thoughts cloud könig’s mind.

he looks so sexy in his balaclava, protecting his face from the harsh upcoming winter temperatures. he’s sported in an all black outfit, helplessly matching yours. anyone who saw you two together would automatically know that was your man. i mean duh, he walks around with his hand on your ass protectively 99% of the time.

when you get the sense that the brute isn’t listening to a fucking word you’re saying, you let out a frustrated sigh and turn your body away from him. but the sudden placement of a large hand on your knee takes you by surprise as you eye the man who’s ice blue eyes refuse to falter from the darkening road before you.

the moment könig pulls up in the driveway of your shared home, you can’t help but twiddle with the polish on your acrylics. anxiousness is bouncing off you, and könig could tell. you turn your head and open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off for the first time that night.

“go inside.” könig’s voice is very low, but you don’t miss the command in it. there’s no emotion behind the dark eyes of his balaclava. usually you could decipher exactly what and how he was feeling, but in the moment—

“kö—“ your boyfriend’s snow blue eyes harden at your talk back. with softer features, you whisper, “will you be inside?”

“soon. need to make a call first,” you watch him pull out a fresh cigar pack. “be ready for me when i get in.” you open your mouth to talk back again, but wire it shut when könig lovingly grabs your face. leaning in so the pink of his lips ghost over your full brown ones, he whispers, “now, mama. i won’t ask again. can you listen to that one thing for me?”

with a small gulp, you give him pretty doe eyes, feeling between your legs tingle at his masculinity radiating onto you. in the most confident voice you could muster up, you nod your pretty head at him. “yes daddy.”

könig gives you a nod of approval and runs his hand along the curve of your ass. “good girl. go on, liebling.”

you exit the huge car, already getting idea of what was to come when könig came back inside. with a heavy heart, you head upstairs to your room and slowly begin undressing, hoping that the slower you went, the more your punishment would be delayed.

your hopes were proven to be false the minute you were completely naked and turned around to see könig leaning against the threshold of the door, silently watching you.

you jump in fear at the sudden sight in front of you, but feel your heart beat calm down when könig strolled over to you. naturally, your head tilted backward as a way to get a full view of his face. his balaclava remained on, so you knew he was still upset about the events from earlier.

könig takes his large hand and rests it on your cheek, giving it a comforting rub. “you know i love you and respect you more than anything on this earth, right?” the brown of your skin instantly heat up at his words as you slowly nod your head at his sudden expression, unsure of where he was going with his words. könig’s lips can’t help but lightly turn upward into a small smile. you had no idea what was gonna come.

“good. because for today, libeling, i’m gonna fuck you like you mean absolutely nothing to me.”

[anistarrose]

So, it's not a moral failing to be bad at what I'm about to describe. But collectively, most of Tumblr is bad at identifying polls that function as bait for bigotry and harassment. Polls that, either intentionally or unintentionally, encourage people to spew hatred about a marginalized queer sub-community — because that sub-community is considered, at least by some, an acceptable enough target.

Most of us have probably seen that polyamory poll go around (as of September 2024). Fewer people have probably taken a look at the notes on that poll — and in many ways, that's for the best, because a lot of the notes are fucking vile. I won't link the poll itself, but content warning for threats of domestic violence and suicide in just this sampling. I don't know enough about the poll creator to make assumptions towards their intent, but that poll was functionally bait, acting as encouragement for people to spew vitriol and bigotry.

And none of this is specific to that individual poll! In December 2023, a single person made a series of polls about friends with benefits, and the "question" of whether aromantic heterosexual cisgender men were queer — and those polls led to huge waves of arophobia and sex negativity (inseparable from, let's be honest, some mask-off radfem shit). On top of that, multiple polls about people's feelings towards sex, or experiences with such, have turned into a festival for bashing both asexuals and virgins — insofar as the people doing the bashing use those words as anything but interchangeable insults.

Polyamorous people. Aromantic people, especially aromantic allosexuals. Asexual people, especially those who are virgins or sex-repulsed. That's a clear and obvious trend — they're all people who do relationships differently. People whose relationships and identities are considered "cringe." Who are considered acceptable targets to mock within the queer community. Making fun of "polycule drama," making fun of "queerplatonic," making fun of a-spec microlabels.

So many people who call themselves sex-positive refuse to extend that positivity to polyamorous people and aromantic people. To casual sex, to sex without monogamous romance. They insist that the polyamorous, the aromantic, are in fact the predators, the abusers, the degenerate queers that the conservative pearl-clutching queerphobes were right about. They tack on asexuals to the "abuser" category, too, because allegedly no one could ever be happy in a relationship with an asexual; because allegedly it's manipulative to your partner to refuse sex! Meanwhile, asexuality and sex repulsion are conflated with the completely different concept of sex negativity, twisting the language of sexual liberation to demonize asexuals further...

And yes, polls play a role in all of this! Of course, not every poll about sexual experiences, for one example, is a poll intended to bait or to harm people! But if they blow up, there is a high risk of people feeling emboldened to comment things like: "so many people are okay with casual sex, or multiple sexual partners! this is what's wrong with the world, it's all just toxic hookup culture!" Or if not that, then things like: "look how few people on this virgin loser website have had sex! this is what's responsible for cultural sex negativity! they'd all be better, more progressive queers if they just got laid more!"

And that's not even getting into the obvious, and obviously intentional bait. The "cishet aromantic men" poll, most egregiously. Clout-chasers hide behind the veil of "I'm just curious about people's opinions!" and then, put out a poll catered to the most rancid, exclusionist, verging-on-radfem opinions. At the very least, catered to platforming them seriously, when people inevitably feel emboldened to say that shit they've been thinking.

And "emboldened" really is the key word here. These polls increase the social acceptability of saying cruel shit about polyamorous people, a-spec people, and whoever else becomes the queer community's acceptable target of the year. The groups discussed in this post are by no means the only popular targets for harassment and exclusionism, but they are some of the most egregious examples I've seen personally, and they are tied together by their non-normative approaches to relationships or lack thereof. Moreover, the groups overlap — I am personally aromantic and asexual, not polyamorous — but even then, my struggles with amatonormativity overlap with those of polyamorous people.

And I bring this up because for years, I've witnessed popular Tumblr bloggers attack a-specs and polyamorous people within the same posts. With the same tactics, using cringe culture in addition to demonizing alternative types of relationships. Now, polls are another weapon for harassing us. And, it is... absolutely exhausting.

Of course, there's obviously a sliding scale of how prone polls can be to harassment. I don't think polls just asking about people's sexual experiences need to be totally anathemized and blotted off the face of the earth, for example — but you know, maybe consider searching OP's blog for "asexual" and some other keywords before you reblog one?

Furthermore, maybe just don't reblog polls about "does X count as LGBTQ," even if you're in support, because you're still legitimizing the poll to begin with. Maybe proceed with caution with posts that mention polyamory, even if not in an inflammatory way, unless maybe you know that OP is polyam themselves. Maybe block, obviously don't harass, but just silently and unceremoniously block people that make a lot of clout-chasing polls about controversial queer issues.

I don't know. I don't have all the answers. I'm not an expert on catching these red flags myself — the first time I saw the polyamory poll, I ignored it just because it was irrelevant to me as a non-partnering person, not because I clocked it as something that would generate hate and threats. So really, if I do have a plea to end on — it's just to listen to people, polyam and a-spec and otherwise, when they say that some post is generating hate and threats towards them. And then, maybe, try to learn some red and orange flags from the experience.

None of us are part of every queer sub-community that Tumblr loves to harass. We all have blind spots, and that's inevitable, not a failure of you as a person. But after seeing so many of these bait polls go around, after seeing multiple rallying effects in the communities followed by people letting their guards down, and circulating a slightly different bait poll... well? I just hope that eventually, people will be willing to learn.

[taegimood]

Can we get sub!soobin getting jealous and possessive after you flirt with some guy in front of him

SQUEEEEE i was just telling berrie that i feel guilty for writing soobin too much but this one’s not my fault 🤓☝🏼 THE PEOPLE ASK AND I DELIVER 🗣️

edit: ……i got a little…..…. carried away 😶

ok soobin being such a little SLFNSKFJF he’s so pouty and defensive please

you would never intentionally hurt his feelings, but let’s say he’s been pushing it lately with the stubbornness. borderline brat behavior with how he talks back and whines over the littlest things, trying his luck with the pouty cold shoulder treatment that of course gets him nowhere (which then only makes him more of a baby about it).

at first, you can’t for the life of you understand what’s making him act this way lately; where did your sweet puppy-like soobin go ??? alexa play good boy gone bad

it’s not until he begrudgingly picks you up from work one day that you realize: oh…

he’s jealous.

you hadn’t thought anything of it when your new coworker joined your team a couple weeks ago, nor when he came face to face with your unsuspecting boyfriend who was picking you up from work that day.

sure, this new guy was very friendly, and eager to help where he could as you trained him for the new position, but you didn’t see it as anything more than that — while soobin, apparently, did.

you can see him now from across the room as everything clicks for you.

he’s sitting at the table by the entrance of your café, waiting as you take the last few minutes of your shift to go over a new latte recipe with said coworker, and you can tell from the furrow in his brows and how tightly his lips are pressed together that he is not happy with the current proximity between you and this other man.

like i said before.. you would never intentionally hurt soobin’s feelings. but when you laugh a little too hard at a joke your coworker just told and give his shoulder a light punch in response…

well, your introvert boyfriend is certainly not one for confrontation with a stranger, so needless to say you’re shocked as he immediately stands and stalks right up to the two of you with no hesitation.

“baby?-“

“don’t you think you’re a bit too close to her?”

you gape at him. he’s staring directly down at your coworker, who he towers over now that he’s right in front of him, and the other man’s eyes widen at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“u-uh, well-“

“your shift’s over, let’s go home.” soobin mutters to you then, not looking at either of you now as he takes you by the hand without another word and pulls you out the door of the café.

you’re scolding him in the car the whole drive home, telling him how he can’t just do things like that, how he can’t just start randomly being rude to people and that this is so unlike him, how he’s been acting out so badly lately and he seriously needs to put this attitude to rest —

but soobin is silent the entire time. looking straight ahead, jaw clenched, leg bouncing in his seat.

your eyes flit over to him in concern.

he’s still silent as you both get out of the car, as you go up the elevator to your apartment, as you finally enter the keycode and step inside — and that’s when it all comes out.

you gasp as you’re suddenly pressed to the wall, his lips urgently meeting yours and his hands gripping you as close as they possibly can; you’re so shocked at the sudden display of dominance that you don’t react at first, until he whimpers against your lips, a silent, desperate plea for you to return his fervor.

and so you do.

soobin has you thrown onto the mattress before you know it, clothes ripped off, his body pressed right up against yours, his lips and his tongue and his hands overwhelming you all at once.

“s-soobin-“

“you’re mine. you’re fucking mine.”

you gasp as he bites down on the part of your neck where he was just sucking marks into a moment ago; a dam seems to have broken as he starts babbling now, and finally you understand the reason behind all of his recent behavior.

“hate the way he looks at you… hate the way he follows you around like a lost fucking dog.”

you moan wantonly as his throbbing cock suddenly enters you in one thrust.

“no one else can make you feel as good as i can. no one else can be as good for you as me. you know that, right? right? f-fuck-“

you’re practically drooling as he fucks you hard, his quick, deep strokes overstimulating as his voice breaks and you can tell just how desperate he actually is for your reassurance right now.

“s-soobin- f-fuck, i can’t even think s-straight-“

“i’m your good boy, right?? n-no one else? i always make you feel good? p-please say it..”

his hips are stuttering as he loses his cool, barely able to maintain a steady rhythm as he buries himself over and over again in your dripping cunt, face pressed into the crook of your neck as he desperately tries to make you cum — whether for you or for himself, or both, you aren’t sure.

“b-baby- fuck, baby, of course you do- so fucking good for me, always so fucking good.. my good boy.. fuck, just like that, soobin-!”

you’re fighting to maintain the control of yourself that you know he needs you to have, but it’s so difficult as he pounds your pussy so good that you swear you’re seeing other galaxies.

your words have him whimpering, breaths coming out in short little moans as he clutches you impossibly tighter, begging to hear more —

you gasp at the sudden feeling of his hot cum shooting into you, and a broken cry escapes his lips, pleasure mixed with frustration as he doesn’t stop, his body trembling from sheer overstimulation as he chases down your orgasm.

“b-binnie-! binnie, slow d-“

“w-wanted you to c-cum first, m’sorry, m’sorry, fuck-!“

you feel as if the wind is knocked out of you before you even get the chance to respond, because suddenly his hot tongue is laving roughly over your nipples and his fingers have moved down to draw rapid circles around your clit;

his hips slam into yours, making filthy wet sounds as his cum gushes from your entrance, his teeth marking up your tits, his whines and moans pornographic as you cum hard around his aching cock and his own second load fills your pussy to the brim.

you have to lock your trembling legs tightly around his waist to get him to stop thrusting; you’re both breathing raggedly as his hips finally still and he goes slack on top of you.

he lets out an exhausted little whimper at the feeling of your still-twitching pussy. he doesn’t show any signs of pulling out, and you don’t even know if has the energy to do it himself;

“binnie,” you whisper, reaching up to card your fingers gently through his damp hair.

“mmh…”

“baby, look at me.”

slowly he lifts his head from its hiding place in the crook of your neck.

“you know… normally i’d punish the hell out of you for how bratty you’ve been… but i think i’ll let it slide just this once,” you joke softly.

his lips are already forming into a pout but you’re quick to add; “you don’t ever, ever have to feel threatened by anyone else. you’re absolutely perfect for me, bunny.”

poor sensitive soobin, bro… 🤧 he’s had such an overwhelming day of different emotions that he quickly tears up at your words, sniffling and mumbling explanations and apologies and so many i love you’s as you cuddle him to your chest, cooing over your sweet silly boy and making sure he knows that he’s the only one for you <333

he still gets grumpy when your coworker’s around — but that man will be staying far, far away now. (soobin’s stank face is sure to clear any place out for miles)

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

[loaksbitch]

imagine neteyam sully finally stood up and proved himself he was serious about you in two ways, one was obviously with his words while the other was physically fucking his love for you in to you yes? YES! this is the finale of the i trusted you miniseries! — wc 4.4k ( tag list in the comments )

warnings - mating press, kissing, lots of kissing, neteyam is switch dom, cursing, vulgar language, him ripping your loincloth mentioned, crying, confusion, fucking, missionary, p in v, p penetration, size kink, mention of squirting but it’s short, praising, making love, mating, bonding, neteyam is a cry baby, jealousy, kinda rough sex (?), pinning against a tree, neteyam fucks you while hanging you on air. i think that’s it, lmk if i’ve to add anything.

“i trust you.” — neteyam sully (꩜,⨳)

here is part (one) — (two) — (three) of this series

everything from neteyam’s perspective was boring.

it was so fucking boring he had started playing with the decorations that was put on throne-like chair he was sat.

some part of him was happiest that you showed up but almost all about him was anxious and in pain when thinking you’re leaving after this party.

neteyam was very uninterested in how äeya was eyeing him or whispering things to him or how she tried to touch him. her touch genuinely makes his gut tighten in disgust.

how can she not take a sign when he pulls his hand away from her?

neteyam’s eyes wander at the crowd of na’vi in front of him, who are having fun and dancing. you’re not there. his eyes keep wondering before they finally land on your figure.

it wasn’t a pleasants sight when a fucking na’vi is trying to hold you from falling.

neteyam’s eyes squint to figure out who was standing next to you, daring to put his fucking hand on your body. neteyam would be honest that he’s glad the male stopped you from tumbling down and falling but putting his hands as an excuse on your waist?

unacceptable.

he hadn’t noticed how his body was tense from jealousy until äeya put her hands on his shoulder.

“nete’?” her sweet like voice calls for him but neteyam was too far invested on keeping his eyes on you. his jaw is clenched and hurting from how he’s biting on it.

äeya was again ignored and her stomach tightens, it kinda hurts when the person she was going to be mated with is ignoring her. yes, she doesn’t want him but then again they’ll be bound for life. yet äeya never wanted to be mated with neteyam, it was her parents to strengthen the so-called family ties or whatever they call it.

deep down, she really wished the feeling was mutual since neteyam kept ignoring her.

neteyam on other hand arches his brow when you suddenly make eye contact with him and sickening smirk on your lips before murmuring something like ‘fuck it, let’s dance’ to the male na’vi that’s tempting neteyam to break his neck

it was as if everything was numb and dull in neteyam’s eye except for you and that pet bitch that keeps following you to the crowd.

once you two were in front of neteyam, of course you’re the one who’s doing this intentionally, you start to dance with the na’vi male neteyam doesn’t know about.

he tried to shrug everything so bad until he saw the male pull you to him and press your body against his. neteyam felt like this was his last straw to brush it off as a bullshit

the stranger was fucking up with his love and neteyam will make sure to fuck him up.

taking off from his seat, neteyam walks down right to where you both are. “neteyam what are yo…” he ignored the call of his parents. the only target right now was latching you away from the asshole what’s trying to grind himself on you.

once he is close, he doesn’t fail to notice how the male na’vi pulls his hand away from you and instantly stops moving. you were distracted for the first few seconds before noticing no’xus and neteyam hears you about to curse the male in front of you

“what is it?” you’re annoyed when you turn and almost bump with neteyam who’s too close for your liking.

“put your hands off of her.” your words are ignored as neteyam ordered the male na’vi, no’ us only looked at him manically. “i’m not fucking repeating myself.”

all the na’vi’s had stopped their dancing and celebration, too confused why the future olo'eyktan is in front of you and demanding the other male to let you go.

your body is jerked away from the stranger you just met and you hiss when neteyam tugs you close to him. what is he thinking? in front of everyone?

“fucking let go of what’s mine and find your own mate.” neteyam scowls dangerously.

“his mate?” the whole omatikaya village gasps and whispers. “neteyam, what’re you do–“ he silenced you with a sharp “i’m dealing with you later.” and turns to his family and äeya’s before speaking loud.

fear was gone when he started to talk.

“i, neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan, has already chosen my woman as a mate.” you’re too shocked to even process what’s happening, even no’xus was gawking in shock. “and my woman is her.”

you’re tugged close to him and jake gets on his feet, “neteyam.” he warns with a deep voice but neteyam doesn’t even budge as his hands are on your hips. “no father, i speak this time and you will listen.” neteyam warns back

“i’ve always tried to be the perfect son for you and the perfect warrior but i’m tired of really giving up my happiness this time.” your eyes are wide, what was he doing.

“i’m not mating with äeya,” he was now staring at äeya’s parents, “i’ve always had the beautiful and prettiest girl i loved and want a future with.” neteyam tightens his hold on yours

“we had already made love.” right the moment the words leave his lips, the na’vi’s are whispering loud and netyiri clasps her hands on her mouth. “it is already done in front of eywa.”

it’s ironically insane how both of his parents sees their young love story between their son and you

“you can disagree or hate me for this but i’m fucking ready to let go of everything for her.” your breath is caught in your throat.

“neteyam, please stop.” you say but he only ignored you.

“i’ll step down from being the future clan leader if you want me to.” he was ready to give up everything for you. “i'm sorry for not stepping up for us before.” he was facing you now.

your eyes blurry when he leans to place his forehead against yours, you wish this dream never ended. “i see you, y/n.” a silent sob leaves your lips and neteyam quickly catches your tears, “don’t cry, baby.” he whispers

as much as jake wanted to deny it, he knew how much neteyam must be hurting and everything made sense to netyiri why her first born was acting up like this.

“what is this nonsense?” ty’sak, äeya’s father growls and neteyam closes his eyes before leaning back and turning to face the furious man. “i’ll apologize for my actions but never will i apologize for choosing her.” neteyam says ready to leave since he knows his parents will deal with them

“princess?” he holds onto your soft hands, “let’s get out of here.” you’re fast to nod and neteyam firmly nods, pulling you out of the pooled na’vi’s not forgetting to knowingly bump his shoulder with no’xus.

you don’t know what to feel and if scared and happy was the right answer? maybe you would agree.

what will happen after now? you’re holding on tight to neteyam’s large hand while he leads you out of the crowd, what will happen after this night? you’re gonna leave after tonight. what will happen right next moment?

neteyam has proved his point that he's really in love with you and chooses you but at what cost? you’re not gonna stay here anymore right?.. right?

once the two of you are far enough from the chaos, both of you are breathing heavily while staring at each other. you’re now in the woods, forest covering both of you.

neteyam made sure no one would find you two here.

“hey.” his rough voice makes your inside tingle, “hi.” it was as if you're both meeting for the first time. then again, awkward silence settles and neteyam doesn’t like any second of it ticking.

“look,” he starts but you shake your head and he shuts himself down fast. what’s going on inside that pretty mind of yours?

“princess?” he calls for you, “i love you.” his words makes your inside twist, neteyam has literally proved to you that he takes you seriously. “please trust me when i say that.” pain was visible in his voice.

you open your mouth to speak and close them again, why’re you like this? tell him you love him and trust him. your mind is going feral and neteyam watches you closely

“i love you.” you whisper quietly but it was loud enough for neteyam to hear it.

he wanted to tell you right there, cry in front of you and kiss you but he can’t just scare you away like that, not when you are telling him you’re in love with him.

there’s no point that you’ll deny your love for him anymore. it was obvious eywa was testing you both and you’re admitting you’re in love and trust this dumbass with your soul.

“princess.” neteyam is a consensual type of na’vi as his soft voice makes you look right to his eyes. “can i kiss you?” you’re gasping now, tears flowing as you desperately nod.

he was so careful with you, hands coming for contact with you, it was like fireworks exploding and ice cold water splashing on you. you watch him take a step to you and press his lips onto yours.

this was it, you both missed this.

the first time, it was gentle smooch against your upper lip then the second one, when neteyam leans more was more desperate and needy.

taking your lower lips in his and nibbling them lightly, you’re whimpering how he’s good at this, you’re both made for each other. neteyam doesn’t hold back when you whimper, two of his large hands cupping your jaw and pulling you more to him.

he was going hard on you, biting your soft lip hard that you’re convinced he broke your skin because the metallic taste on your tongue says so. “neteyam,” you call and feel him kiss the corner of your mouth.

“i’m here, i’m right here.” he tells you, hands roaming on your body, you’re trying to focus on his hands gripping you and loving how they feel but your heart is hurting from missing him so bad.

neteyam was quick to pull back and check your face, “what is it, tell me what’s wrong.” you hiccup, again so open and vulnerable to him.

“tell me, pretty girl, talk to me.” his soft manner and gentle touches only make it worse. you’re the first to break eye contact and you only lean to him and this time, you’re the one to kiss him.

neteyam doesn’t say anything and stay frozen, you need him just as much as he needs you but neteyam was surprised at your move.

neteyam inhaled the smallest gasp when you opened your small mouth a little wider for him to devour you, he remained still knowing himself that he’ll not stop if he gives in and kisses back

he’s trying not to lose his grip of pressing you against the wall and fucking his feelings into you.

you kissed him again and his breathing stopped, another kiss you delivered and this time he kissed back, striking the match of your pace and fully kissing you, pressing his lips with equal force.

you don’t deserve her, his own brain accused him

you’re just gonna hurt her more, neteyam was trying to block out the awful thoughts

the exchange of oxygen became difficult and you broke the kiss, taking deep breaths as your chest heaved up and down. neteyam took this opportunity and placed delicate kisses down to your throat, nudging your face to the side for more access

i never meant to hurt you, he wanted to say

i always loved you so much it was painful, neteyam thought

your silent moans are only pushing him further and further. clinging to him for affections and him doing the same so you won’t escape him was proof you wanted each other so bad.

his hand found your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled both of you down to the grass. the way he pulls you to his strong thighs makes your breath quiver.

“neteyam,” you mewls when he pulls your lower abdomen to his, grinding you hard to his now growing bulge. your breath quickened when the increasing pressure of his shaft was on your center

was this really gonna happen?

neteyam’s mouth found yours again, licking your bottom lips and you granted his wish by opening your lips for him to devour you

he kissed you deeply until the need of breath won again eventually. foreheads pressed to one another, you two calmed yourself before you eventually locked eyes.

“i need you” your needy voice makes his cock stir.

neteyam tells you to hold onto him before bringing his hands to his shoulders and pulling the heaven material off of him. a relieved moan left his lips when he cracked his neck and looked back down at you.

you were much smaller than him and it was feeding his size kink well.

your heart starts to hammer when neteyam twists his arm and brings his braided queue in front of you, your eyes widen when you see his actions and look back at him, he was already staring at you and it was obvious he was scared and nervous just like you are.

the end of his queue moved and you gasped before speaking. “this means you’re forever with me, ‘teyam” you insecurely say and it pains him how broken you are about yourself.

he hums before looking straight into your eyes, “you are my forever.” he tells you and doesn't miss how you squirm under him.

your whole body is itchy with unbearable feelings and neteyam only waits for you.

it’s your turn to bring your braided queue to your front and see how the end of it twitches. neteyam was silenty asking you if you’re ready with his eyes and you only stare at his swollen scarlet lips and nod.

you’re both trying to breathe normal when you connect your queues and it was an audible gasp you both let out at the feeling.

everything was blurred except for both of you and how you saw each other.

you’re now feeling neteyam just like he’s feeling everything in you. and one thing you figured out from the connection was, this man is starving for you.

not only sexually but emotionally, you felt how he missed you and was hurting while neteyam on other hand felt exactly the same.

“princess,” he whimpered at the feeling and you closed your eyes shut. both of you tried to calm yourself.

once you’ve opened your eyes, neteyam was breathing shallowly and leaving no space between you as he tugged you close to him, “i need you close. i need you so close to me.” he grunts.

“i’m here,” you tell him and neteyam nods, “and i’m here, for you.”

your eyes are pleading him to make a move and make you feel full, neteyam doesn’t need tou to speak to understand when he’s literally connected to your brain.

a fleeting smile foresees his lips when you mewled as he grinds you down to him.

“neteyam, please.” yo breathed, tilting your head to the side, inviting him to mark you as his. “how do you want me?” neteyam voiced out in between marking you

“i don’t care…” you’re heaving, “just, i need you… please.”

you’re hurting and he wants to make you forget, remind you you’re his now and not gonna escape until death does you two apart. you’re calling for him, you’re telling him to mark you, fuck you or do anything with you.

you just want to be with him forever.

with his desires now uncontrolled, he brought his hands up from your hips to the pretty glowly leaves that are covering your chest and ripped them off away from you.

your fingers are sliding through his braids when he runs his hand on your bare back and grip you harder. neteyam sucked hard on your blue skin, making your eyes screw shut and breath hitch.

he’s gonna make you remember him when you’re trying to walk tomorrow with wobbly legs after he ruins you.

neteyam suddenly pushed you down to the grass and made you land on your back with a light tud, you begged for him and he’ll deliver it.

your legs are pushed wider, loincloth ripped away from you, he didn’t give you a second to feel shy as he went down on you.

long, pink flat tongue dragging all its way on your slit.

“neteyam!” you cried out when the pleasure striked. hypersensitivity winning on your heat, neteyam kept lapping on your arousal, hooking his arms under your soft plush thighs.

he pryed them open and tugged you to him way too close. he resumed his torture by delivering kitten licks on your clit and you keep crying out in pleasure. your hands sought to find his braids and pull hard on his locks, making him growl while eating you.

two fingers replaced his tongue, rubbing circularly has you on edges, you keep calling for him and neteyam only slides his other hand to your chest and removed on of your hand from his hair to intertwine his fingers with yours

he keeps massaging your spot and you cry out, two of his fingers sliding inside you, he curls them upward and your hips rise from the grass you’re laid.

“neteyam!” you yell.

you get louder when he ducks harder on your sensitive bud. your moans trembling and orgasm nearing, you feel your toes curl. when neteyam pushes his finger in and out of you while his lips im over your clit and lick it.

you’re almost there but the suddenly lose of his fingers and lips makes your eyes shoot open and you’re about to curse him but neteya had other plans.

“keep them open.” he demands.

neteyam gets on his knees, towering your body with his. he was fast to untie his own loincloth before removing them and you watch how his length sprang out, fully erect and big.

neteyam placed you a little higher to the ground and got between your thighs.

he didn’t make you wait long because he was now pushing himself inside you and taking each and every twist of your face, checking for any sign of pain since you’re physically more smaller and tighter than him.

neteyam groaned when he looked down.

he wasn’t even half way inside yet yoire squirming under him. “‘teyam” you whine when he keeps pushing and he only keeps brushing your hair out of your face. “too b-big.” you gasp.

“shh, almost there baby, i’m half way inside.” he soothes you.

patience running thin, neteyam places his hands on your hips and pulls you to meet his thrust. you scream but he was fast to shush you with a hard kiss on your lips.

“it’s okay, you’re doing good. taking me well baby.” he presses a sweet kiss on your forehead.

you grip on his arm, talking advantage of both of you being alone, you moan loud. “neteyam.” you moaned.

“say it again,” neteyam says, jaw clenched as he tries to help you adjust his size.

“neteyam,” you sigh.

amber eyes almost rolled into his head when he looked down at your, his mate’s state. “you’re so pretty.” he moans, “so pretty i’m losing it.” he was starting to slowly move his hips circular motion.

you only tighten your grip on his arm when you feel him move inside you, tip kissing the scarlet curve of your cervix. everything was perfect, so perfect to be true for him.

but then again, every time he opened his eyes and saw you under him, he knew it was real. he won you, and you won him.

“who’s fucking you so deep right now?”

he slowly dragged himself out of you only to plunge back. “say it, who’s fucking you deep right now?”

your legs tremble when you tell him, “you, you, you.”

“who’s making you feel good?” neteyam asks and you whine, why can’t he just shut up and fuck you?

“neteyam,” you bring your hand his hip, wanting him to go faster but he slaps your hand away. “answer me.” he roughly thrust and you gasp.

“who the fuck is making you feel good?”

“YOU!” you scream when he’s too deep and jolts your body up with every thrust he delivers.

“good girl.” your inside tightens.

“not that skxawng but me.” he says and your brows furrow in confusion before it hits you. he was jealous and talking about no’xus. “only me.”

he was now ramming to your heat harder and harder.

you feel your inside twist when you hear your mate whimper above you. the orgasm neteyam stopped you from having was returning and neteyam hisses when you tighten on his more than even.

“you’re gonna cum, huh?” he latched his rough thumb to down to your clit while he’s fucking his frustration into you and your body twitches, too much pleasure given.

your arousal milks neteyam’s cock and he snarls when your nectar and his precum decorated his cock. “ma ‘teyam” you mewl and cry when neteyam keeps fucking you, you wanted to tap out so bad but you’re good girl neteyam uses as his cocksleave

“for whom did you just cum for?” he was claiming you, no one except him makes you feel like this. “you!” you breath out.

just when you’re recovering from your state, neteyam suddenly pulls you up to him l by your waist and press you to him. “what’re you doing?” you ask when he grunts and pulls you both up from the ground while he’s still inside you.

making sure you’re not gonna fall, neteyam scoops you and places his hand under both of your knees before leaving you hanging on the air.

“netey— oh mother!” you scream when he pulls you down to his length fully, you’re dangling on his hand like a piece of an easy object and neteyam hold you and fucks you while you’re on the air.

“so good and easy for me,” he praises and you only moan, back arched and your breast pressed to his firm and strong chest. neteyam walks to the nearer tree and pins you against the wood before he’s jack-hammering you

kissing all spot with his girth.

“wait, neteyam, wait!” you whine but it was late when you explode down where you both are connected.

neteyam let’s a surprise chuckle out before looking down there then up to you before teasing you and placing a kiss on both of your reddened cheeks.

“you just squirted all over me, baby.”

you turn your face to the side, blushing and somehow surprised how he hasn’t came once. “i’m close,” he suddenly says, moans and grunts louder than ever. “so close, princess.” you pull him for a kiss and neteyam obliges.

“i love you, neteyam, i love you so much”

neteyam feels his emotions are winning over him when you say that and his eyes sting from the tears whelming up. “say that again, please?”

“i love you, ‘teyam” you smile and wipe the tears that were shed on his pretty skin.

“i love you more baby, i love you so much more.”

neteyam felt his lower abdomen contract and he moaned to your lips when you kiss him. “do you t-trust me?” he asks and you don’t fail to notice how his words hitch at the ‘trust’.

you don’t give a fuck how this is going or will turn out but what happened today proved you, you trust neteyam. “i do, i trust you.” you whimper, overly sensitive and not feeling your legs.

“fuck,” neteyam hisses when you say the words he was dearing to hear. “i love you, i love you, i love you.” he keeps saying with every thrust.

neteyam nudges your nose to the said that makes your whole face turn to the side, he then quickly hides into your neck and whines while gripping your hips so hard.

“princess.” he whines and you feel his thick ropes of seeds paint your gunmy walls. “i’m here,” you whisper to his flattened ear against his hair. “i’m here.” you keep telling him.

once he gains himself back, neteyam looks down to your lips before giving you a bold lick and you giggle. “neteyam ew!” you joke but deep down loving it.

“you clenching down there says the other though.” he teases and you slay his chest playfully. “fuck you!” you curse at him and gasp when he thrusts roughly.

“i think i already did that.” he proudly says before pressing his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry,” he says and the atmosphere instantly changes to a sad one. “i’m sorry i put you through so much…”

he opend his amber eyes he doesn’t remember closing and begs you. “but, please don’t leave. i’m nothing without you.”

your throat hurts when you swallow, too weak to voice out words to him but you manage few. “you’re not nothing, neteyam.” you tell him while you cup his cheek and make his look directly to your eyes and he shakes his head

“no, i can’t live without you, i’ll go insane.” you smile when he kisses your eyelids.

“my mom doesn’t know yet.” you watch him his tail wiggles and his ears perk at your words. “i’ll have to tell her i’m staying her– NETEYAM!” you laugh when he’s pulling you from the tree and hugging you close to him

you cling to him for your deal life when he twirls you both. “neteyam slow down!” you giggle at his excitement. he’s so baby-like na’vi. after you begging him several times, you watch him stop and let go if you gently

you feel the pad of your foot hit the grass and when neteyam lets you go by your own, you almost fall. “i’ve got you.” he tells you, catching you by your hips, a cocky grin on his face when he realizes you can’t feel your limbs.

“what do we do now?” you ask him, and watch him hum in thoughts before speaking.

“i don’t know, i just want to be with you now everything else can be solved later.” he starts to help you walk near the shores to eash your sweaty body.

“neteyam, this is serious.”

“i am serious.”

you just sigh, too tired to even think about arguing with him. you shiver when the cold water touches your skin as you make your way to the lake and neteyam follows you closely from behind.

everything was now how it’s supposed to be, neteyam can’t thank eywa and kiri for helping him with things. he’ll make sure to deal with his parents later because his main priority now is you.

only you.

oh my gosh, we’re now done with the ‘i trusted you’ miniseries and i can’t express how i’m feeling rn, to be honest it’s weird to not write anything about them anymore :( but what can i say? everything is sorted out now!!

thank you for giving this series a love and support than i ever imagined, it received the most wholesome and funny reactions from you guys and i can’t wait to make more of a mini series of all of you!! the “i trusted you” series has no came to an end, thank you for loving it with your everything.

like and reblogs are very much appreciated! i love each and everyone of you, lmk in the comments of the smut was toe-curling enough like you guys wanted it to be?? mwah** micasa signing off from this series <3

[turcott3]

34 + 35

logan sargeant x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, smut!!, oral sex, foreplay, unprotected sex, breeding kink (hence the song)

positions fics masterlist

~watchin movies but we ain’t seen a thing tonight~

-

“logan.” you groaned, lightly pushing the boy. the room was filled with darkness and only lit by the tv.

“what do you want to watch? i’ve asked you fifty times.” he laughs, handing you the remote.

“don’t hate me but i’ve been wanting to rewatch this.” you say opening max to none other than, fifty shades of grey.

“you know i said i didn’t want to watch this.” he groans.

“just one chance logan please.” you beg, tugging on his shirt.

“fine, we can watch it.” he giggles as you press play and find your way under his arm. after a long bout of silence, your focus begin to stray. it was hard not to look at your boyfriend, who’s eyes were locked on the screen. he seemed to be invested but this movie was ramping up your sexual energy.

“are you okay?” he says breaking the silence.

“mhm” is all you muster out and his eyes stay locked on you as you shift your legs uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of his arm around you. you wanted any friction you could get.

“logan.” you whisper.

“hm?” he replies.

“can i put the blanket over us? i’m cold.”

“yes of course.” he replies, his thumb lightly caressing your arm, sending goosebumps throughout your body.

your hand began to wander, lightly touching his leg. you take one of the drawstrings of his sweatpants between your fingers, twisting it slowly back and forth, hoping he’ll notice sooner than later. intentionally, you brushed your hand over his dick to grab the other drawstring to play with.

“baby what are you doing?” he giggles.

“nothin.” you reply, giving him doe eyes.

“you’re the one that put this on, watch it.” he says briefly focusing back on the screen.

“you’re right sorry i just…. have something on my mind.” you say, your hand slowly drifting closer to his dick underneath the cloth of his great sweatpants. his breath hitches as you pull the waistband slightly. your fingers wrap around his thick cock, quickly rubbing him hard.

“y/n.” he says.

“shhh.” you smirk, pressing a kiss to his lips as you stroke him firmly, paying close attention to his sensitive tip.

“fuck.” he says, his head thrown back, the movie now just background noise to help drown out the groans exiting his mouth.

you sit up on your knees pulling the waistband completely down, moving the blanket with it, completely exposing his dick. you lean over and spit on it, working your warm saliva onto his dick, running your thumb over the bulging veins. your lips make contact with his tip, his hips bucking slightly as a reaction. you push spit through your lips, watching it drip down his throbbing cock. he gathers your hair carefully behind your head keeping it out of your way as you slowly take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks. you gag as is dick hits the back of your throat but stay put momentarily before removing him with a pop.

“fuck baby, you’re so fucking good at that.” he says before you attach your lips to his sloppily.

hastily, you remove your shorts and panties, simply discarding them on the floor. you climb into his lap lining him up with yourself as you sink onto him. he attaches his lips to your neck as you wrap your arms around his. you moved in rhythmic circles, something you’d never tried before.

“oh my god.” he grunts out moving away from your neck locking eyes with you without another word. clearly your choice made him happy.

“is that good?”

“so fucking good.” he sighs attaching his lips to yours, his tongue begging for entry which is quickly given. you start to move up and down, the sound of skin clapping quickly drowning out the movie that remained playing in the background.

“logan.” you say, your voice wavering at the sensation his thick cock made you feel while it was pounding into you. his hips met yours in the middle with a snap causing you to yelp before collapsing over resting your head on his shoulder while he pile drives you, your nails dragging harshly down his back under his shirt. your moans all meshed together, you could hardly stand the way he was making you feel.

“look at me baby, look at me.” he says as you pick your head up off his shoulder, daze in your eyes. he connects your lips lovingly, he knew you were close. he could feel your walls grow tighter around him with each thrust.

“are you gonna come for me baby?” he asks.

“uh-huh.” is all you can say, your moans growing sharper and sharper by the second as he picks up his pace, thrusting deep into you.

“fuck i’m coming.” you gasp, your body releasing shockwaves, your legs jolting every few seconds as you collapsed over his body.

“get up baby,” he says lightly tapping you on the ass. this was your typical ritual when you fucked without a condom.

“no baby.” you groan into his shirt as he slows his strokes down.

“you want me t-“

“yes fuck yes, i want it in me logan.” which was surprisingly all you needed to say to send him over the edge, spilling his climax deep inside you. you stayed in that position out of breath for a few moments before you pull him out of you.

you laid down next to him spreading your legs slightly, dragging your fingers through the little bit of cum that dripped between your legs and sucking it off your fingers as he watched you intensely.

“fuck i love you y/n. you’re fucking perfect.” he says climbing over you and reattaching your lips.

“please logan, please fuck me again.” you beg, tugging on his shirt so he wouldn’t back away.

“baby what if you get pregnant?” he asks, his eyes wandering your face for an expression.

“you’ll be in the off season again in 9 months.” you say, trying to egg him on. you’d never imagined yourself having kids until you got with logan. something about him and having his babies turned you on in ways you couldn’t explain.

“are you sure?” he asks, a little bit of hope gleaming in his eyes.

“i’ve never been more sure.” you smirked.

“god i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you too baby.” you giggle as his lips make harsh contact with your neck.

-

[astralnymphh]

ellie with a back or shoulder tattoo..❤️‍🔥

ct; blurb, sub!ellie with a tinge of attitude, beach day, massaging (ellie receiving), very suggestive, tattoo is mostly up for reader interpretation, slight pussy play (ellie receiving). period started in the middle of jotting this, so apologies if it became rushed! otherwise, HUZZAH! [ellie img from keaneq_ on pinterest]

for all nerd intents— it would maybe be a dragon. unsure what else would be on her back (perhaps something cosmic?), but all is up for interpretation! so particular with the placement, though; it would peak out from her tanks, buying her the reason to wear them more frequently. and of course— she does. if there's a way to keep your eyes on her, she most definitely will deploy that advantage. "see how sick my tat looks in this shirt, babe? damn, best decision ever." (starts flexing her arms like an idiot) anywho, a scenario, if you will: waves crashing near, seagulls squawking off ears, and the scent of damp sand everywhere— you're at the beach, secluded in secret. ellie suggested you find secrecy, and it was right off the bat that you located the perfect, boulder-walled cove. situating yourselves between those stone giants, you could talk, touch, tangle, and canoodle to your heart's fullest content. in seclusion, instead of wearing a tank, ellie had clad this black sports bra. intentionally; it flaunts her freckles, her lean shoulder muscles, her new tattoo— so deep and dense soaked in sunlight, glistening since you're giving her body quite the pat-down with sunscreen. goddess knows that pale girl depends on it.

right now, though, she need not wear anything on her torso at all. "fuck— that's the spot, oof," she rasps harshly, groans with pleasure into the netting of her beach chair. it just had to turn into a massage sesh. poor ellie works so hard to provide for you two. who's to say she doesn't need some tender touching care? you roll your thumbs along the sides of her nape, pushing and ruching her skin slow and sensual. ellie is convinced you were covertly trained for this. it feels like you are. "ah— babe, can you, uh, go lower?" her voice strains, and she reaches a hand back, nudging the band of her swim shorts downward. the tattoo's length is now revealed entirely, and it draws your pupils and fingertips to venture upon it. noticing where you two connect, you stare; her perky little butt had been pressed into your crotch for minutes now, and all the impulsive fibers in your brain wanted to do— was grope. but you palpate above it, acting unbothered. it serves for a bit, until ellie makes the usual sly and stupid remark about it, her tone clearer and louder, "enjoying the view? hmhm, 'can't say I let you do this too often." and you can feel the purpose hot on her flesh when she adjusts her hips, drives her ass a tad into your groin— so you grip one side. control filled that grip. it turns vice, and so does your question, "are you enjoying being touched here? seems like it." the top knuckles of your digits curling an inch under her pulled waistband. the auburn bun you shot gazes of daggers at just then, turns away so she can somewhat face you, given her position. playful eyes of green answer before her throat can, and they ring with the audacity to provoke you further. heavy-lidded, low-browed. "tchh— obviously. I did tell you to go lower," her tone laden in attitude, plastered with a shit-eating grin. now, ellie did tell you that, but her voice emphasized that you hadn't gone low enough. hadn't trailed past the tail of her tattoo.

pretty slick of her. it however, doesn't compete with the slickness you discovered leaking from her cunt. as one hand continued its caressing of her inked spine, the other ran fingertips over the fabric of her stygian shorts, slotting the damp material in-between her pussy lips, and stamping her clit down with your thumb. "mhh, huh, fuuck," through her whimpers, she freed a scoff; impatient-sounding, "is this all ur' gonna do? tease me?" the tight muscles of her thighs softly clench your wrist. you knit your brows at her, removing the pressure your thumb gave, "just admiring your back baby, be patient."

[dark-konohagakure2]

Alucard nonconing Integra’s little sister because he simply doesn’t respect her as he does with his master, mainly cause shes shy and timid unlike her big sister?? 🥺🙏

tw: noncon, bullying, age difference, size difference, threats, abuse, gunplay, sadism, fear play, fuck or die, object insertion (gun)

All characters depicted are 18+

Alucard has nothing but respect for his master, obeying her every command and carrying out her orders to the letter, but this courtesy does not extend toward's Integra's family, or more specifically; her younger sister. Alucard doesn't hate the girl, as evidenced by the fact that her brains aren't painting the walls yet, but he sure as hell doesn't respect her in the slightest either, and that's putting it lightly.

He's practically just a bully around her, popping out from around corners or out from walls when she least expects it, intentionally scaring her, he finds it hilarious how easily frightened she is, laughing his ass off whenever she flinches or jumps at his sudden appearance, but his teasing doesn't stay harmless for very long.

Alucard's antics will quickly escalate from schoolyard bullying to outright harassment and abuse. He'll fire his gun mere inches away from her head, just barely missing her, and he'll also get much more handsy with her, groping her tits and hips and slapping her ass whenever she walks by.

That's not even the worst of it, Alucard knows how scared and uncomfortable his guns make her, and he uses that to his full advantage, rubbing his Jackal across her body, brushing the cold metal against her most sensitive areas before forcing the barrel past her quivering lips and demanding that she gets it nice and wet for her own sake.

"Oh stop crying, little bitch. My master isn't scared of guns, so why should you be? Now if you don't start sucking already I'll blow your empty little head off."

If he is feeling especially sadistic, which will be more often than not, Alucard will when even force his gun into her pussy, with nothing but her saliva to lube up the cold steel. He'll keep his finger right on the trigger, but never actually pulling it. The chamber is completely empty and the safety is on of course, can't have his chew toy dying too quickly now, but she doesn't know that.

Everyone in the Hellsing Organization will turn a blind eye to what Alucard is doing to her. Walter is content to let his old friend do whatever he wants, and Seras is too loyal to her master to say anything against him. Even Integra, her own elder sister, won't do anything about it, the very most she'll do is tell Alucard not to kill her or break any bones.

The absolute worse thing Alucard will do is forcing himself onto her, making her take his entire huge cock into her small virgin pussy. Alucard is much bigger and more well endowed than the average man, even by vampire standards, so it's going to hurt like hell when he forces every single torturous inch into her untouched pussy, it's enough to make her bleed, which just spurs the vampire on all the more.

He's big and rough, treating her like a sex toy and having no regard for any pain he might be causing her during the brutal fucking. Alucard is so much bigger than her that he'll have to lift her up to even get her shorter form onto his cock, her feet off the ground as he fucks into her, hissing venomous insults into her ear as he rearranges her cunt.

"Hah! Pathetic! Even Police Girl can take more than this without passing out! You really sicken me brat, you're not worthy of sharing the same blood as my master..."

Being a creative sadist, Alucard will almost never run out or ways to play with his toy, having literal centuries of experience to pull from. In fact, if she proves to be entertaining enough for the ever bored Alucard, he might even consider making her his eternal plaything.

[simpjaes]

jay with calloused guitarist fingertips fingering you 🥴

wc: 515 tags: jay learned to play guitar bc it'll get him some pussy, fingering, multiple orgasms, implied fuckin [this jay was in mind when i wrote this obv// except i added a necklace to him]

Oh, rougher than you expected.

In more ways than one.

You knew his fingers were long enough to reach deep, and you certainly knew he was well aware of how to use them for more than that fucking guitar he's claimed to be the love of his life.

He must not recognize how quickly he moves them, how beautiful it is when he presses his fingers down on the strings with just the right amount of pressure to make those delightful sounds while simultaneously strumming with the other.

You learn more quickly than expected that he's very well aware. In fact, he picked up this guitar in the beginning solely for the pussy it might get him.

And boy does he get it.

You're just one of the girls, but of course you need to be different so that he calls you back.

Moaning more for him when he slips those calloused fingers in you, the ring at the end of it offering a metal-cold-sensation right against your entrance that only makes you shiver. He chuckles when you close your legs around his hand, looking you in the eye with his soft hair falling in front of his eyes. His eyebrows stay furrowed in concentration as he fights the tensing of your thighs. Pushing harder, so hard that his shoulder is jerking just to plunge his fingers in deeper, faster. So hard that his hair only sways in front of his eyes, likewise with that dainty chain necklace around his neck. He knows all the places inside of you like you're truly no different than any other pussy spread open for him, and you find yourself not minding too much during that first orgasm. By the second orgasm, you fear you're already growing feelings for the man hovering over you. He hasn't so much as taken off his clothes, proving to you that he's here to pleasure you, not to get it himself.

But what if-

"Jay," You moan out, feeling the third finger enter you by now. "Do you always just get girls off without..." You trail off in a moan when he leans back, spreading your legs out with one hand and changing the angle of his still-fucking-fingers. "Hm?" He smiles, slowing the pace to tilt his head at you, intentionally dragging the pad of hid middle finger against your g-spot and pressing up. Rubbing. "D- do you not ever get anything in return?" You choke out at the bubbly feeling in your belly, muscles tensing again. "I don't typically ask," He focuses his eyes back on your cunt, now so wet that there's a large stain on his bed. So fuckable. "Why? You wanna return the favor?" You nod frantically, shooting up on your elbows and grabbing his hand, stopping it. "Yeah?" He tries to confirm with you, a bit shocked by the blown-out look in your eyes. "Can I fuck you then?" And, well. It appears Jay knows how to use more than just his hands, unfortunately many women he gets in this room appear to be spent after the very girls orgasm brought on by his fingers alone. They're missing out, truly.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Bette Davis (All About Eve, Now Voyager, Jezebel)—She is a bitch and I like her so much. Also: unf. She does it all: rage, vulnerability, romantic passion, hauteur that invites beholders to say "step on me" under their breath. Her work in the 1930s, from melodramas to romantic comedies, is excellent, but I've mentioned 1940s films above because I feel that she really was at her best once the studio allowed her star image to get edgier. Also her decades-long platonic friendships with male co-stars (e.g. Paul Henreid, Claude Rains) are very important to me. Anyway: bow down before Bette Davis, HBIC.

Gloria Swanson (Don't Change Your Husband, Queen Kelly, Sadie Thompson, Sunset Boulevard)—the absolute BALLS this woman had! an icon of the 1920s, her career had simmered down, decent living in radio, deciding you know what? you know what i'll do? I'll star as the haggard old aging decrepit horror icon in Sunset Boulevard, that's what I'll do. Nobody else in Hollywood would take the part (every other actress didn't want to be framed as a has-been)—gloria said, fuck that, I'll eat this role alive and serve cunt the whole time. she was still so gorgeous when they made Sunset Boulevard they had to intentionally make her up/costume her to make her look older than she was. mad respect for the screen legend who says yeah, i am a screen legend, i was always that bitch and here I am again to prove it

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Bette Davis:

"The absolute GOAT of vintage cinema. An icon. Her EYES. Any time you see Bette on screen you know she's about to steal the spotlight. Her range is incredible, she can play coy, shy, mischevious, innocent, evil, hideous, beautiful, cunning, and wise all with the same self assurance and talent. I live in awe of her ability. And, of course, she's gorgeous. I think she peaked in 1950 with "All About Eve", at the age of 42- she was in full control of her craft, she's a milf, and her scratchy voice makes me nervous in a good way."

"She’s Bette fuckin’ Davis! She had a great sense of humor and a lovely pair of eyes! She was a camp icon and fuckin’ knew it. And she wasn’t afraid to make fun of herself!"

64.media.tumblr.com

"shes got a whole song of saying how hot someone is bc they look like her"

"She's got Bette Davis eyes! Incredible character actress, charming, witty as all hell. Her favourite accessory was a lit cigarette."

Gloria Swanson:

She was THE idea of a 1920s sex comedy star, and was a hot (and totally unhinged) older woman in Sunset Boulevard. Hot as a young woman and as an older woman? Yes plz

I feel like she would slay in alternative fashion

her performance as Norma Desmond in sunset boulevard makes me insane. I love her

[stardustvanfleet]

Desire — Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: When your boyfriend Jake takes you out on a romantic dinner date, you can’t help but tease him… but two can play at that game.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. Soft dom!Jake. Relentless teasing while at dinner, absurd amounts of sexual tension. Rushing home from the restaurant to fuck. Fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, finishing inside, dirty talk with both praise and degradation.

Author’s Note: It’s been almost exactly a year to the day since I posted my last full-length Jake fic, and I am so beyond excited to be finally sharing this one with you all! I wrote this over the last few months with a WHOLE lot of love behind it. Huge thanks to everyone for being so understanding about the gap in my writing— I went through a lot of really exciting changes in my life this year that put writing on hold for a little while, but it feels SO fantastic to be writing for gvf again!! HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to my LOVE my LIFE my darling poppy aka my beloved aka smooching you @gold-mines-melting I LOVE YOUUU thank you for being my beta reader and my brainstorming partner in crime and also being my Best Friend and i cannot WAIT to hug you again literally NEXT WEEK!!!!!!!!! other special thanks go to @losfacedevil @texas-bbq-pringles and @joshsindigostreak for just being some incredibly lovely humans that i am SO lucky to know 🥰

FIC BEGINS UNDER THE CUT!

//

It had started innocently enough.

At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

Truly, when Jake had come to you earlier in the day with that coy smile you loved so much, asking if you’d let him take you out tonight, you had no premeditated plans of intentionally working him up. Of course, having been together for quite some time now, you did happen to know exactly how to turn him on. Even in the most subtle of ways. The slightest touches, the smallest movements. And it wasn’t your fault if he just happened to have an effect on you that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, without even trying.

Okay… well, given the facts, perhaps the turn of events had been somewhat inevitable.

//

All you could focus on was Jake’s hand on your waist. It wasn’t that you weren’t admiring the decor of this upscale, intimate Italian restaurant he had brought you to, or that you weren’t able to smell the intoxicating aromas of different meals being brought to the tables you passed as you two were led to your own. It really was just that simple— one touch. That’s all it took. One touch, focused and deliberate, steady yet electric. One touch from Jake and your body was alight.

Your attention was fixated on the sensation. The heat of his large hand through the thin fabric of your dress, his fingers firmly resting against you, gripping just barely, just enough for you to feel it. How could you be getting this intoxicated on him already, before you’d even reached the dinner table? It was practically absurd. Still, the burning between your thighs was impossible to deny. Your breath caught in your throat, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught a smirk tugging at the corner of Jake’s lips.

Oh, yeah? Two can play at that game. The thought materialized in your mind just as you two arrived at the table Jake had reserved in advance. It was small, romantic, somewhat secluded, but still undoubtedly within view of other tables in the restaurant. No, you couldn’t be too daring. But what would be the harm in seeing what you could get away with?

The dress you were wearing was one of Jake’s favorites. It was a shade of blue that especially complemented your skin tone, and you knew the way it fit you and accentuated your curves drove him wild. You couldn’t help but think to use that to your advantage. As Jake sat down, his eyes remaining on you, it was impossible to resist the urge to seize the moment. Before taking your seat, you let your hands rest on the very top of the chair’s back, meeting your boyfriend’s lingering gaze. When he arched an eyebrow at you inquisitively, a knowing, appreciative smile on his face, you sighed, “I needed a night out with you, baby… to just relax with you… god, I’m so stiff…” 

You trailed off, arching your back as though to stretch it, while paying quiet attention to the way Jake’s eyes trailed across your body, the slight hitch in his breathing as you let your mouth fall open in the apparent bliss of the stretch you were feeling. Pushing your chest forward and arching further, a sigh slipped from your lips as Jake— ever so slightly, but just enough for you to take notice— shifted in his seat. A sense of smug pride began to swell deep within you, alongside a stirring of something… else even further down.

Finally, you slipped into your seat, your gaze resting on Jake— an involuntary shiver running down your spine at the way his eyes had seemed to darken substantially within just the past few moments. Coyly, you picked up your menu, far more focused on Jake’s lingering gaze than the entrées on the page. You made a big show of scanning through, chewing on your lower lip… but truthfully you were barely glancing at it, your attention focused on the man across from you, the thoughts in your mind traveling down a path that had nothing to do with dinner.  After a heart-pounding minute or two of stealing amorous glances over your menus, you couldn’t hold back anymore. Lowering your menu to the table and making sure Jake had a full view of your cleavage, you leaned forward, cocking your head wickedly and asking pointedly, “See anything you want tonight…?”

His gaze instantly intensified at your double entendre, those dark eyes of his flashing down to your cleavage just long enough for you to notice. The tension was already growing palpable as Jake locked eyes with you once more, his expression calm and collected but his cheeks already beginning to flush— a telltale sign of Jake’s arousal building under the surface. Still, he wasn’t going to give in that easy. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and measured. “Be careful, pretty girl… play with fire… and you’re gonna get burned.”

“Maybe I like the heat,” you replied quickly, definitively, letting your fingers absentmindedly trace the lines in the wooden grain of the table, making sure Jake took notice of your languid movements. His gaze was electric, and you watched as he shifted in his seat once more, his jaw clenching and unclenching involuntarily as he clearly tried to maintain his composure. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you love it… but can you handle it? Can you take it all?” Jake’s words instantaneously sucked all air from your lungs, dissipated all coherent thoughts from your mind. You blinked at him, lost for words for a moment— and the smirk he gave you in return made it clear that he knew all too well the effect that his words were having on you.

“Seems like you’re interested in finding out just how much I can take,” you replied seductively, prompting Jake to arch an eyebrow at the bold nature of your comment. Before he was able to open his mouth to escalate the teasing even further, however, a waiter approached your table— putting an immediate pause on the conversation that was slipping deeper into innuendo by the moment. And though the waiter took great care to describe the details of each of that evening’s specials, you truthfully weren’t able to register a word of what they were saying. Not with Jake’s eyes on you, watching. Studying. His gaze traveled across your every centimeter, as though he was drinking you in with his eyes alone— and simultaneously undressing you in the same manner. The undeniable ache between your thighs was becoming more and more difficult to ignore in the presence of Jake’s unyielding eye contact.

Jake’s ability to appear calm and collected in moments like these was always something that impressed you. Even when you could tell that he was positively burning for you, using every ounce of his energy to keep his composure… to the untrained eye, the intensifying rosy flush in his cheeks would be the only hint towards his interior demeanor. Knowing that you were the only one that could read him so well, the only one in the restaurant aware of the desire building within him, was only serving to muddle your thoughts further. Dazedly, you became aware of how hot the room was beginning to feel.

Jake ordered for both of you, as though he was aware that you were having trouble finding the words through your cloud of arousal— and the smirk he directed towards you all but confirmed that suspicion. Always thoughtful, knowing you so well, he had chosen a drink and a dish for you that perfectly encapsulated your favorite flavors.

How ironic that the craving you were experiencing had nothing to do with the meal.

The dinner passed in a fashion that seemed somehow a blur and yet excruciatingly slow all at once— the service was impeccable, the food delicious, but every moment spent sitting across from Jake was only serving to heighten the tension that was becoming more and more unbearable. Every movement, every word from Jake, caused arousal to flood your veins. The way the muscles in the back of his hand flexed when he picked up his glass, the way his long fingers curled around it. His soft, raspy laugh, paired with that magnetic gaze that left you breathless. You were transfixed, spellbound. You could never begin to understand the effect he was able to have on you so effortlessly, but it was undeniable. Heat was radiating through every inch of your body. He had you aching, and he knew it. Still, you had your suspicions that you weren’t the only one whose thoughts had grown increasingly indecent as the night drew on. You knew that look in Jake’s eyes.

And at the end of the meal, when Jake finally stood, you were given all the information that you needed to know. Your gaze immediately flashed downwards— to an unmistakable silhouette, thick and hard, straining through the front of Jake’s pants. Your entire face suddenly grew incredibly hot, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your thighs squeezed together subconsciously. Fuck. As you were left blinking up at him, mind blank beyond the desire radiating through you, the wicked look in Jake’s eyes had you trembling. He chuckled as he took your hand, helping you to your feet and smirking. “Why so flustered, baby?” When you still couldn’t find the words, he leaned in, letting you hear his last question right in your ear, raspy and low. “Do you see something you want tonight…?”

Your own line. Fuck.

So that’s how he was going to play it. 

//

If dinner was difficult to get through, the ride home from the restaurant was damn near tortuous. The drive couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but the effort was Herculean. The tension was burning, intoxicating, dizzying, with Jake gripping the steering wheel practically white-knuckled in his determination to get the two of you home as efficiently as possible. You could hardly breathe, squeezing your thighs together, heart hammering within your chest, knowing you must be positively soaked. Even Jake’s heavy breaths were making your head spin. You were aching for his touch. Desperate for it. 

When finally, finally, Jake pulled into the driveway of the home you shared, you felt practically lightheaded. Pulling his key from the ignition, he turned to you. Once your eyes met, your breath caught all over again, and Jake arched his eyebrow, as though to challenge you. His voice was low and seductive when he spoke. “You’re looking all worked up, baby… is there something my pretty girl needs?”

Your breaths were coming shakily, your legs somehow already beginning to tremble, but you managed one more teasing smirk. “Why don’t you get me inside and see?”

At that, Jake’s teeth grazed his lower lip, the sight sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s my pretty little tease…” He trailed off at the involuntary whimper that slipped from your lips at his words, giving a raspy hum of approval in the presence of your blatant desire.

Flustered, desperate, dripping with need, the last few steps towards your front door would’ve taken quite literally every last bit of effort you had left within you to remain outwardly composed… even if Jake’s hand wasn’t resting on your lower back in that same way that always left you reeling.

The door hadn’t even closed behind you before you had practically thrown yourself at Jake, his satisfied groan of relief against your lips making you dizzier still as you kissed him feverishly, desperately, pressing yourself up against his solid, sturdy form with everything you had. The contact, the friction, even through the layers of fabric between you, was electrifying. Every cell in your body was crying out for more, desperate to feel Jake’s hot, flushed skin against your own. Your hands were instantly all over him, grabbing at him, pulling him closer, closer, and Jake was doing the same, his large hands searching to feel and grab at every inch of you as he kissed you back with a sense of urgency that left you whimpering into his mouth.

Your hands were sliding up his chest, finding where his button-down shirt was opened to and hooking your fingers into the fabric, desperately fumbling the last few buttons open and pushing it off of his shoulders. Another rush of need hit you in sync with his shirt dropping to the floor, drunk on the feeling of Jake’s flushed skin, hot with desire, as he growled his approval against your lips.

Somehow, while still entirely entangled in one another, hands everywhere, Jake was able to maneuver the two of you towards the bedroom between messy, heated kisses that left the two of you gasping for air. Backing you up towards the bed, Jake was groaning, “God, you’re such a tease, baby… getting me rock fucking hard for you with this beautiful fucking body…” while letting his hands slide up and down your curves, grabbing handfuls wherever he knew it would make you whimper. “You’re a fucking vision in this dress…” he breathed out, voice trailing off as he reached around and let one finger begin to trace up the zipper of the dress, the sudden soft and deliberate touch causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. Stepping behind you, Jake took the toggle between two fingers and began to pull the zipper down, continuing, “…and you’re such a fucking vision when I take it off of you…”

You bit your lip, moaning softly at Jake’s words as he helped you out of your outfit. The dress fell to the floor, pooling around your ankles, leaving you completely naked in front of Jake. You hadn’t worn any panties, knowing exactly how that little surprise would affect your boyfriend— and Jake’s sudden utterance of a soft, nearly breathless “Fuck. Goddamn,” from behind you made it clear that you’d achieved the exact result you were hoping for.

Turning back to face him, your body was struck with a staggering wave of arousal when you laid eyes on his expression.

Desire. Unadulterated, overwhelming desire.

It was in the hunger in his eyes, the determination in his gaze. It was in the way his chest was heaving with anticipation, the way he licked his lips as he took you in. It was in the way his hands immediately fell to tug his uncomfortably tight pants all the way down. And, God, most dizzying of all, it was more than evident in the large bulge that now openly strained through the front of Jake’s black boxer briefs. 

You were standing at the edge of the bed as Jake approached you, his gaze intense, heat and arousal radiating from his body, intoxicating every one of your senses. The anticipation was agonizing. You could hardly take it any longer.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, the words coming out even more desperate than you had intended. “Take me…. I need it. Please.”

Jake cocked an eyebrow, smirking deviously. His voice was rough and low when he spoke again. “Oh, you need it? Is that why my baby was being such a dirty little tease tonight? Because you just need it so bad?”

A soft whine escaped your lips, your whole body trembling in anticipation of pleasure. “I need it so bad, Jakey… I’m soaked for you. Please…”

At the sound of your admission, Jake’s teeth sunk into his lower lip and he let out a soft, low sound that made you shudder with arousal. “Yeah? That little pussy’s all soaked for me already?” Jake asked almost patronizingly, and your head spun with need, letting yourself nod desperately and begin to whimper out another plea— but Jake cut you off, smirking, as he breathed out, “I’ll just have to see for myself.”

And all of a sudden, Jake was kissing you as though his life depended on it.

Your boyfriend was suddenly over you, his firm, strong body pushing you onto the bed underneath him, his hands grabbing and caressing at every inch of your exposed skin as they traveled downwards, getting closer and closer to your aching pussy.

“Please, please…” you were whining into his kiss, bucking your hips to encourage him to continue on as he forced himself to pull back from your lips, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth as he did so.

“Let’s see just how needy this little cunt is…” Jake began, pulling your thighs open with large hands, your mouth dropping open wide with lust as he moved you around so effortlessly. Spread wide to him, exposed, there was nothing you could do to hide the fact that you were already dripping down your thighs. At the sight of you, Jake’s mouth dropped open to mirror your own.

“Oh, fuck. Goddamn, baby. You weren’t kidding… this pussy really is crying for me…” Jake began to drag his fingers up your inner thigh, setting you even further alight everywhere he touched. “Oh, and she’s been so patient… waiting like such a good girl… Let me give her what she needs.”

All of a sudden, expert fingers were slipping right between your legs, gathering your arousal before moving straight to your clit, stroking it at a steady, fast rhythm that made you cry out instantaneously.

Jake’s fingers were so persistent, so relentless. Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth falling open involuntarily, words attempting to form but fading fast, dying on your lips as his fingertips traced devastatingly quick circles over your already aching clit.

“Ohh… What's wrong, baby? Nothing left to say now?” Jake’s voice was low, his tone like velvet, his eyes never once leaving your body writhing underneath him, the way your expression shifted in response to his touch. “A little less mouthy when you’ve got my hand between your legs…”

A sound resembling a whine escaped your lips, and Jake chuckled, a sound so low and raspy that sent shivers all the way up and down your spine. “God, baby, you sound so pretty when you’re falling apart…” With his thumb still tracing and playing with your clit, Jake let one long finger start to tease at your entrance, his lips parting with satisfaction when you let out another breathy moan.

“Fuck, please,” you managed, the words coming out shaky, needy; and Jake let out a soft groan at the sound of your obvious desparation, gritting his teeth together for a moment in a way that betrayed the depth of his own desire.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come on, baby… use your filthy little words, let me hear it…”

Your back arched, his calloused thumb rolling across your most sensitive spot again and again, all in conjunction with the way he was encouraging your neediness— it was sending jolts of electricity straight to your core, your brain growing lightheaded. Thoughts whirling, pleasure building, you were finally able to find your words, though you hardly recognized your own voice through the heavy fog of desire that had fully overtaken your every inch.

“Fuck… give it to me, Jake… need those fingers deep inside me, fucking me hard, just how I like it… please, baby… I need it so bad…”

Jake’s resulting groan at your words left your eyes damn near rolling back into your head— and while you managed to hold your composure for a moment, once Jake’s heavy-lidded eyes darkened, holding your gaze with lust-blown pupils and groaning out, “God, you beg so sweet, baby,” and sliding not one but two fingers deep into your cunt— all hope was lost. You were long gone.

He didn’t hesitate; maybe he’d lost his patience for teasing. The speed and intensity with which his fingers immediately began to hammer into you, paired with the continuous motion of his thumb strumming your clit, was earth-shattering. Your back arched further off the bed as you cried out a trembling, “Oh, fuck, Jake…” which drew a sharp inhale and a husky chuckle from the man hovering over you.

“Goddamn… yeah, moan for me, sweet girl, lemme hear it…” Jake’s voice was raspy, urging you on, every word sending sparks straight to your core as he worked your pussy just right, his agile fingers seemingly hitting every sweet spot at once while curling and stroking deep within you. You were seeing stars. He’d only just started finger-fucking you, and already, already he was taking you on a fast track straight to the edge of oblivion— all with just one hand. Your moans had grown desperate, needy, increasing in pitch and volume as you felt yourself beginning to lose control. 

“Oh my god… oh my god… Jake… fuck, right there…”

His face hovered over yours, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark as he smirked in that way that always left you feeling a little lightheaded. You were struggling to keep your eyes open through the haze of your impending orgasm as Jake said, voice soft and thick with desire, “I know, baby… this was what you fucking wanted… I know exactly how to fuck this pretty pussy, huh?” At his words, you instantly and involuntarily clenched around his thrusting fingers, and Jake let out a husky laugh that turned into a groan, cursing a soft “Shit…” under his breath. Unable to respond out loud, you were nodding in response to his question immediately, your mouth falling open into a silent scream as the heat began to build in your lower stomach. His mouth fell open, mirroring your own expression, with his gaze directly on you. “Goddamn, pretty girl, you gonna cum for me already? Does this sweet pussy need to cum that bad?” His fingers were unyielding, slamming into you again and again, his thumb sweeping over your clit at a speed perfectly in rhythm with his thrusts. You were so close, so close… 

All of a sudden, Jake’s free hand wrapped around the base of your throat, holding it firm. His voice was somehow both commanding and almost needy when he growled out, “Then cum now. Right fucking now. Soak these fucking fingers.”

The overwhelming, head-spinning tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you instantaneously. Shudders wracked your body as you cried out a weak, trembling, “Fuck, Jake…!” clenching down around him and soaking his fingers exactly the way he had told you to. Jake’s soft, amorous groans and breathy curses served as a spine-tingling backdrop to the way he kept his pace straight through your orgasm, prolonging and heightening every feeling, every sensation. You were left whimpering, moaning, entirely losing yourself in the overwhelming bliss, and Jake’s heavy-lidded, hungry eyes remained on you. Drinking you in. Savoring your pleasure as though it was his own.

After an inestimable amount of time, you finally found yourself beginning to come to your senses as the last few intense shivers coursed through you. Jake released his grip on your neck and slowed the pace of his fingers to a halt as you caught your breath, opening your eyes to gaze at him with dazed astonishment and unbridled desire— and the look in his eyes alone was enough to already send yet another shock of arousal straight down your spine, even as your heart still pounded in your chest and your hands still trembled with the aftershocks of your first orgasm. It was practically indefinable, the effect that he had on you.

“Fuck, baby… you did so good for me, sweet girl…” Jake was sighing, pulling his fingers from your cunt and bringing them to his lips. Your mouth dropped open instinctively, watching him through a haze of arousal as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you as he groaned around his own digits, dragging his fingers along his tongue as he pulled them from his mouth, licking his lips. “This pussy is fucking breathtaking…” the words fell from his lips thick with desire, and another shudder coursed through your body, causing Jake to raise his eyebrows at you and cock his head, chuckling darkly. “Oh… my pretty girl likes when I talk about her little cunt, doesn’t she…?”

You were nodding without thinking, your head already swimming at the thought of what was still to come. Jake’s dark eyes were still on you, his gaze intense and his pupils blown wide with lust, as he continued, “That’s what I thought… and it seems to me… that this desperate, needy little pussy still isn’t satisfied…” A soft whimper escaped from the back of your throat, and Jake let out another soft, husky laugh. “I know, my sweet girl… that felt so good… but it wasn’t enough, was it…?” You were shaking your head, heat already beginning to build between your thighs once again as you bit down on your lower lip. 

Jake was smirking, before letting his expression grow serious as he leaned in. “You need my cock, don’t you, pretty girl?” You moaned out loud without even thinking, and the hunger in Jake’s eyes intensified even further, making your mind reel and your body shiver. “That’s a really pretty moan, baby…” Jake went on, “...but I need my pretty little slut to use her words if she wants me to fill her up…” Your eyes rolled back a bit, so overcome with arousal that it took a moment for you to rediscover your own capacity for speech.

“God, fucking please, Jake,” you gasped, your tone shaky and needy, and Jake groaned a bit under his breath, his cheeks flushed and his forehead damp with sweat as he hovered over you. “I’m so fucking desperate. Need you to fuck me. Please. God, please.” Your pussy was practically throbbing with need all over again, and the smirk on Jake’s face made it clear that he could tell— his own desire made abundantly clear in far more than just his gaze as he raised himself up onto his knees from where he was hovering over you, bringing your attention directly to the large bulge straining through the front of his black boxer briefs.

Your jaw dropped, dumbstruck, as his own hand slid down his body, from his tanned, firm chest to his soft tummy and further down, before wrapping around his clothed cock and giving it a squeeze, as a soft, low sound somewhere between a hum and a growl escaped from the back of his throat. “Oh… does my baby need my cock?” Jake asked in a tone that was almost patronizing, sending jolts of arousal directly between your legs as you nodded breathlessly. “Yeah? You need me to fuck you hard with this thick cock?”

You were trembling all over again, practically at a loss for words as you nodded up at him, whimpering a final, desperate “Please.” Jake bit his lip, your eyes locking as he nodded at you in a manner that looked like a promise. His hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, keeping his gaze directly on you, watching your expression hungrily as he pulled them down with one sharp tug. The sound that escaped your lips was downright obscene as your gaze fell to take him in. No matter how many times you laid eyes on Jake’s cock, he still left you goddamn speechless. Thick, hard, and slick with precum, the sight alone was enough to render you essentially wordless with sheer need. Your gaze traveled over him. The coins dangling from his necklace hung enticingly over his heaving chest, his hair falling angelically over his shoulders as he gave his cock another squeeze, this time without even a thin barrier of fabric in the way— and his eyes fluttered a bit as he took in a sharp inhale, your mind reeling at the way the involuntary response betrayed his obvious desire. And after a moment of heart-stopping, delicious anticipation, the tension burst.

All of a sudden, Jake was over you again, taking your thigh in his left hand, grabbing at it with his large fingers and spreading your legs open even wider, an involuntary moan falling from your lips at the way he was manhandling you. His face hovered above yours as his right hand worked his cock, lining it up in front of your entrance, his mouth falling open to mirror the way your jaw had dropped with overwhelming need. When he spoke, his voice was husky and low. “Don’t worry, sweet girl… I’m going to fuck you exactly how you need it.”

You barely had time to process his filthy words before he was rubbing the head of his cock up and down your pussy, not only teasing you but also himself, causing the both of you to let out overlapping moans as you grabbed at him. The need, the ache, the throbbing desire was so intense it was practically painful— you could hardly take it anymore. Voice breaking with desperation, you whimpered out, “Fuck, Jake… fill me up, baby, please… stretch me out, I need your cock, baby… please… please…”

Jake groaned, letting out a raspy, “My beautiful little slut… god, you beg so pretty… gonna give it to you… gonna give my baby what she needs.” And before you had another moment to beg, Jake was pushing all the way in, his fat cock stretching out every inch of your dripping pussy, causing you to let out a cry of utter ecstasy as your back arched up off the bed. The long, breathy groan that he let out simultaneously had you practically lightheaded, his lips parting with bliss at the feeling of burying himself within you.

He didn’t tease, didn’t hold back. Perhaps it was because he shared in the desperation you were feeling; the burning desire, the ineffable force pulling the two of you closer together. Jake pulled his hips back, before slamming back into you in one solid thrust, using the entire force of his body weight. The pleasure was so immediate and so overwhelming that you saw stars, unable to hold back a moan that could only be described as pornographic, as Jake’s grip on your thigh tightened. His free hand found your shoulder, pressing down and pinning you to the mattress as he began to hammer into you at a pace that left your eyes rolling back, getting leverage from the tightness of his grip and the steadiness of his rhythm.

“Fucking goddamn, my baby takes it so well… every fucking inch I’ve got for you…” Jake was groaning, gritting his teeth as beads of sweat dripped from his forehead onto yours. You were whimpering at his pace, begging him not to stop, curses falling from your lips again and again. Layered underneath your overlapping voices, the room echoed with the sound of skin against skin, Jake’s firm pelvis and soft tummy smacking up against you with every thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, Jakey, feels so good,” you were gasping, wrapping your legs around him to allow him to hit even deeper— and when he hit the perfect angle, hammering up against your sweet spot with every thrust at an expertly kept rhythm, you cried out again, even louder this time, clenching involuntarily around Jake’s cock and making him groan. You hardly recognized your own shaky, desperate voice as you whimpered a broken, “Oh, God, just like that…” 

“Yeah? Just like that?” Jake encouraged darkly, his own building pleasure evident in the heaviness of his breaths, the redness of his cheeks, the way his beautiful hair grew damp with sweat. “My good girl loves getting fucked like a slut…” his words causing another strangled moan to escape you as he continued, “Fuck, you’re squeezing my fucking dick, baby… You’re getting close, aren’t you? Is my pretty, dirty girl gonna cum again…?”

You were nodding as hard as you could, barely able to speak through the overwhelming pleasure. Heat was building in your core, fueled not only by Jake’s hard thrusts but also his penetrating gaze and breathy, raspy moans. “Don’t stop,” you found yourself whining, your grip on Jake tightening as you threw your head back, so overcome that you squeezed your eyes shut, struggling to find the words. “So close, fuck, feels so good…”

“Shit, this fucking pussy…” Jake was moaning, growing more breathless by the moment. You knew the indicative signs; the furrowing of his brows, the shift in his rhythm, the way his raspy tone transformed into something almost desperate. You weren’t the only one getting close, and when your gaze met his again, you saw the need and recognition in his eyes— he knew that you could tell his own proximity to the edge.

“Inside me,” you whimpered, answering a question he hadn’t yet verbalized, and Jake groaned, nodding hard as you continued, “Want you to fill me up, Jakey, please…”

“Gonna make you mine… gonna fill this sweet fucking cunt,” Jake’s voice was practically trembling through its huskiness, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and flushed cheeks as he thrusted into you again and again. “Gonna fuck my baby full as she’s cummin’ on my cock—”

“Fuck, please,” you were moaning, practically sobbing, feeling yourself grow closer and closer, the pleasure growing more intense by the moment— and as if reading your mind, Jake’s hand slipped between your legs, his expert fingers circling your clit at a truly devastating speed. Within seconds of having both his fingers and cock spoiling your pussy all at once, you lost all control. You were suddenly overtaken by a level of bliss that was damn near incomprehensible, practically screaming Jake’s name as you gushed onto his cock, clenching uncontrollably around him. At this, Jake’s eyes rolled back and he groaned out the most beautiful string of expletives as he gave you exactly what you wanted, filling your cunt with his cum and maintaining his pace to ensure that your mutual orgasms lasted as long as possible.

You clung to Jake as you rode out your high, struck by wave after wave of full-body pleasure that was only amplified by the symphony of moans and breathy curses falling from Jake’s lips, the way he was gasping and sighing as the two of you, slowly but surely, began to come down from the peak of bliss. Finally, Jake collapsed onto you, sighing with satisfaction and burying his face in your neck. After only a  moment, he was peppering soft, chaste kisses across your skin, in every spot he could reach. Giggling, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, which had grown damp in his exertion. It must have been at least a minute or two before you were able to find your words, and even then, all you were able to manage at first was, “Holy shit, Jake.”

Jake let out a giggle of his own against your neck, and your heart swelled as he lifted his head to look at you. Those warm brown eyes, melting you all over again, held your gaze with so much affection as he grinned, shaking his head incredulously. “Wow. God, baby… you’re unbelievable.”

“Guess I should tease you more often, then,” you giggled, reaching up to catch Jake’s chin between your fingers as he smiled playfully at you. 

“Well, after that, I’m definitely not saying no…” Jake teased back, making you grin cheekily in response.That was when he leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing you tenderly, softly. Lovingly. 

You were overcome by how much you cared about him. How safe he made you feel. Throughout the kiss, you couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of Jake’s heartbeat, pressed up against yours. Beating in time.

When he finally pulled back, it took a moment for you to be able to come back to yourself, to open your eyes again. Jake was gazing at you with such reverence, such awe.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, reaching out to trace a finger along your cheekbone, making you giggle shyly, heat rising in your cheeks all over again.

“Oh, Jake…” you sighed breathlessly, placing your hand over his where it rested cupping your cheek. “I love you. So much more than I could ever put into words.”

His smile was radiant. “I love you, baby… and I find new reasons to fall for you every day.” He leaned in to kiss you once more, and this one was even slower, sleepier. It was a kiss that felt like home.

After a long while of losing yourself in Jake’s lips, you felt yourself starting to grow drowsy, sleepiness beginning to beckon to you. Jake’s touches were soft, gentle. You couldn’t help it; he was just such a calming presence.

“I want to stay just like this,” you murmured, yawning a bit after your words before adding, “Someone made sure I was all tired out…” making Jake giggle affectionately as he pressed more gentle kisses to your cheeks.

Jake’s voice was soft when he replied, smiling between his tender kisses, “I think that can be arranged, baby.”

Feeling so held, so warm in his embrace, you closed your eyes, cuddling into Jake, breathing him in. Between soft kisses and whispered nothings, it wasn’t long before the two of you fell asleep, fully intertwined. Ready for whatever adventure tomorrow had in store.

//

TAGLIST: @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet @via-fm @wetkleenex-gvf @jaketsparrow @rhythm-of-space @the-starcatcher @fuckyoutommie @earthlysorrows @ascendingtostardust @joshsindigostreak @jenniferkiszka @hollyco @starcatcher-jake @lipstickitty @iamawhoreandnotproud @kissthesun-gvf @vanfleeter @mybussyinchrist @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @psychedelicstardust-gvf @readyforthegarden

Author's Note: If you want to be added to my taglist, you can do that right here! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it 🥰 All my love, Li xoxo

[risuola]

HEADACHE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

Your head has been killing you all day but you tried to play it off as nothing to not worry your boyfriend, but he noticed and didwhat he could to ease your suffering.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna, reader is in pain (duh), things like SA and su1cide are mentioned (nothing discriptive though), there is like, one slightly suggestive joke I guess? it's fluff, let me remind you! — 1,7k words

a/n: yet another fluffed out piece of writing for the king, because I love him struggling to keep his authority, alright? there are also so many fics where Sukuna is just purely violent that I feel like him being everything but violent is very much in demand and I love him more gentle 🖤 i also often get headaches like the one described so it was my inspo, kinda.

It hurt. Your head had been killing you since this morning and slowly it was getting to the point where you couldn't even move. It felt like a storm had been raging inside your skull for hours, you couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on anything all day, and three painkillers didn't help at all. Your vision was blurry, your balance was off, everything seemed too loud, too close, too bright, too intense. You wanted to scream, you cried, and even begged whatever there is in the universe to just take this pain away.

"I can't," you whispered, crying quietly into your pillow as night fell. "I can't, I can't..." You tried not to wake Yuji, you even acted like it hurt less than it really did, just so he wouldn't worry, but now you couldn't hold it anymore. Your hands were shaking, your vision went black, and you wanted to die.

You got up, quietly and carefully, and slowly padded to the bathroom, feeling your way through the walls because your vision wasn't reliable anymore, and you put your head under the ice-cold water. Unpleasant shivers ran down your spine, your breath came short, but you stayed there, begging the university to ease the agony. And it did, for a moment. It all came back when you threw a towel over your head, unable to withstand the cold anymore. There was no point, you were dying, there was no other way.

Defeated, you dried your hair as best you could and went back to bed, where the moment you laid down, Yuji's arm found its place over your middle. He was still asleep, thankfully, and you pushed a pillow over your face and dived into the darkness.

"Is this suicide?", a voice that you only hoped was the creation of your mind reached your ears and you ignored it for the time being. Yuji was sleeping, he didn't move his hand from over your belly, he couldn't... "It's unwise to ignore me."

"Please, I can't do this now..." you whispered and took the pillows away. It was wet with tears, and so was your face when you looked at him. It was Sukuna, but it seemed like he had very little control over Itadori's body. Or maybe he intentionally kept you close to him so that you would die of a heart attack, but the sudden rush of blood that made your heart pump much faster than usual only made you feel worse.

"You can't do what?"

"Why are you here?" you asked, wiping your face.

"I love watching people suffer, and you seem to be just the kind of show I'd enjoy."

"Of course you do..."

"What is the source of your pain?"

"My head hurts. So fucking bad."

"Poor little human," he chuckled, lifting his head and resting it on his hand for a better view. In any other situation you would have pushed him away, tried to distance yourself, but now you had no power to fight back, so you stayed where you were, in the emotionless embrace of a curse that lives inside your boyfriend.

"If you stepped out to enjoy my pain, please go fuck yourself. Not the best timing, curse."

"How rude," he chuckled, "as if you were in a position to speak to me like that. I can slice you to ribbons before that brat even thinks of taking control back. Oh, imagine how devastated he would be to wake up to the bloody mess of his little girlfriend."

"Oh, sure. How creative, threatening me with death, very original. Perhaps you should surprise me and use your little hocus pocus to ease the pain I feel instead of scaring me."

"You want me, the King of Curses, to heal a human?"

"Kindness would be a good look on you."

"Oh, you're so desperate," he laughed and you covered your eyes with your forearm, already tired of his shit. The silence hurt you, not to mention his amused tone.

"Get lost, Sukuna," you muttered. "If you're not going to help, then stay quiet."

"And who are you to order me around?" his long fingers clawed at your chin, forcing your head in his direction, and you lowered your arm to look at him. Red eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the night, but he looked calm. "Hmm? Little human, have you forgotten where your place is?"

"I know where my place is, but you're in my bed now, so the only rules that apply here are mine."

"What a mouth," he chuckled again. "I can make this headache worse, you know."

"By annoying me to death? You're doing great at that."

It really wasn't wise to push Sukuna's buttons like that, your luck was definitely going to run out sooner or later, and even if you thought you wanted to die because of the headache, that wasn't really what you wished for.

"Sukuna, please, don't be a dick, help a human out."

"Oh, but watching you in pain is so much more entertaining."

"Have you ever tried to be nice, or is the concept foreign?"

"Being nice doesn't hold any power."

"Oh, but it does. When people truly respect you, not because they're scared, that's a different kind of power. And you like power, right?"

"I'm the strongest, I don't care what maggots think of me as long as they kneel in fear."

"If those people are maggots, doesn't that make you like a maggot king or something?"

"Oh, you're pushing your luck."

"Sure, whatever," you smack his hand away from your face and put the pillow back over it. If he's not going to be helpful, what was the point of paying attention to him? Just because he wants it doesn't mean he has to get it.

"And now you plan to ignore me?"

With no answer, you just pressed the plush item harder to your face, hoping that the pressure would soothe you even a little, but no luck.

Sukuna achieved his goal of making your heart beat even faster when he suddenly climbed on top of you, pinning you under his body and throwing the pillow away. Both of your hands he pressed to the bed with only one of his own, and you looked at him with a combination of surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of fear. This was not an ideal situation in any universe.

"What now?"

"Oh, don't be so scared, you wanted me to help you, right?"

"I fail to notice where the helping part is..."

"You humans fail to notice a lot of things."

Ryomen continued to touch you, but his touch felt anything but intimate. It burned, it felt targeted when his palm brushed against your knees or your inner thigh. Wherever he pressed, you felt some pain.

"What on earth are you doin-"

"I advise you to shut up before I change my mind."

And so you did, still unsure of what was happening. Why was this man touching your skin when you could have sworn, he wasn't interested in any kind of human physical touch. He was toying with you, enjoying the way your heart was racing in your chest, how you struggled to free your hands from his relentless grasp, and how you tried so hard to stay calm when he knew your mind was racing 180 miles per hour and off the cliff.

"Such a simple human," he mocked, his fingers brushing way too close to your underwear to go unnoticed, and your hips bucked up to create just a little more distance. This had to be another kind of torture and he was having fun making you so pliable. His eyes never left your face and you struggled to maintain eye contact. "What if I opened a mouth on the palm of my hand right now?" he teased, and you didn't get the subtext at first, but once you did, the vision struck you in a way it shouldn't have.

"Christ, you're more perverted than I suspected a curse would be," you muttered, turning your head to the side, creating an opening for him to kiss the tear off your cheek.

"You don't know much about curses, sweetheart," he laughed directly into your ear, brushing it with his lips as he moved his hand higher, sliding it under your blouse to your hip. "There are some mindless curses out there that only focus on sexually abusing their victims." This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. But his tone didn’t change, he was amused more than anything. "But I'm not a simple, horny curse, don't be so afraid. I'm the king."

"For a king, you do kinda often need to remind people about it..." you muttered, breathing in and out, focusing on this simple thing to avoid turning into a mess.

"Remember my advice?"

"Yup."

You closed your mouth and a wave of pulsating pain washed over your whole body again, radiating from your head as if a bomb had just exploded here. You closed your eyes tightly, tears once again threatening to flow from under your squeezed eyelashes. It hurt so much that you couldn't think straight, everything was blurry and you had trouble even recognizing the man above you. You wanted to pull your hands out of his hold, to put them on your temples, to do anything to ease the throbbing ache, but he wouldn't let you.

His hand pressed against your forehead. A moment later, the grip on your wrists loosened and the man rolled off you, taking a place beside you and pulling you into his chest. When you opened your eyes, no sign of black marks met your sight.

"Did he help you?" Yuji asked, his voice soft and cooing, but with worry clearly intertwined with his words. "Does it still hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Your head, does it hurt?"

"No... You asked him for it?"

"Yeah... I noticed you were in pain today, but you tried to play it off as nothing. And you didn't sleep and cried and I saw how many pills you took and still hurt," he spoke so softly, kissing your head tenderly and caressing your back with care and affection. "I'm sorry, I guess he had to scare you a little because, you know... ego."

"Thank you, baby," you pressed your lips to his chest, nuzzling into him even more.

"Oh, don't be, you know I'd do anything for you."

Next day you noticed that every bruise you had on your body wasn’t there anymore. Every hurt you earned through your every day clumsiness and trainings disappeared.

So that’s why Sukuna was touching you.

[lightseoul]

This is amazing!!! #29 please 🥹

ngl, this one was a bit challenging to write! i had an initial vision, realized it didn't work, then the story just ended up taking this course. in any case, i hope y'all still like this one! thank you for playing <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

29. "I NEED THIS TO WORK." (1.5k)

you’d chalk it up to gravity—the palpable heaviness that accompanies each step you take up the staircase leading to the building’s roof deck.

and maybe your lack of exercise, too? you can’t remember the last time you had a proper, challenging workout that really pushed you to your limits, hence your shitty-ass cardiac health.

deep inside, however, you know you’re just using the earth’s downward pull and your questionable physical fitness as shabby excuses more than anything.

case in point: you feel the sudden, visceral urge to retreat when you finally reach the landing and see the poor man who’s about to be at the very center of your truth bomb’s explosion.

to your credit, though, you don’t turn a 180 and start the trudge back down to the house party mina’s busy hosting at the moment. instead, you just stand there staring at the aforementioned poor man who’s turned against you, leaning on the tall railings and most likely admiring the view of musutafu’s city skyline.

when you first noticed him slowly retreating from the conversations that were unfolding back in mina’s loft, you didn’t know whether to feel appeased or nauseous. you knew him well enough to be privy to the fact that he didn’t really enjoy parties, so he would usually step out and get some air when he could.

this was the exact moment during which you planned to attack. at least, that was the idea when you were crafting your ultimate confession scheme a few weeks ago when you first got mina’s invite.

but now, shit is getting too real, and you don’t know if you can do this anymore.

you unknowingly tighten your grip on your phone, an important component of this entire, borderline laughable plot to declare the feelings you’ve been keeping in for god knows how long, before finally deciding that no, you can’t do it tonight.

but any plans of yours to back out and quietly tiptoe out of the area practically fly out the window the millisecond you make the decision.

because, of course, #7 pro-hero dynamight has excellent environmental awareness.

he utters something that comes out more as a demanding statement than a question, and you find yourself frozen in your tracks as if you’re in a slapstick comedy.

busted.

when you don’t say anything for a few more beats, bakugou looks over his shoulder, his infamous scowl now etched across his unfairly handsome features.

“—i said, how long are you gonna keep standing there, dumbass?”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes and maybe laugh at yourself because of course you’d end up falling for the guy who calls you demeaning nicknames, you take a shaky inhale.

here goes fucking nothing.

as nonchalantly as you could, you shrug, before slowly making your way towards the spot beside the man.

you feel his eyes boring holes into the side of your face as you mirror him and lean on the railings, finding yourself unable to meet his gaze and opting to just stare at the skyscraper ahead of you instead.

“what,” he asks—no, demands—again in that haughty tone.

you finally will yourself to look at him, and when you do you have to intentionally school your face into a neutral expression despite the somersault your stomach does at the sight.

“what do you mean what?”

“you’ve got something to say,” he huffs, studying you intently. “spit it out.”

you stop yourself from gulping in nervousness and potentially giving yourself away just in the nick of time.

“what,” you counter, voice surprisingly even for someone whose nerves are shot. “can’t a girl just want the company of her best friend?”

you’re stalling, and you’re frustratingly aware of it.

bakugou only lets out a ‘pfft’ in response, turning to fully regard you. “i know that face, idiot. that face you make when you’re itching to say something. the one that makes you look constipated.”

you don’t even think twice about it, you move to smack the guy who’s now barking a laugh. he tries to dodge it, but you miraculously manage to clip him by his forearm.

he swats you away after you land a hit, and you try to fight the smile that’s threatening to take over your mouth despite his teasing comment.

“you better work on those reflexes, dynamight.”

without missing a beat, bakugou shoots you a look. “don’t even go there.”

at that, you throw your hands up in playful surrender, knowing better than to challenge the man to anything, particularly concerning his physical capabilities.

neither of you says anything after that—a comfortable silence enveloping the two of you—and you’re acutely aware of the familiar feeling of anxiety creeping back up.

however, in a rare moment of utmost clarity, it suddenly dawns on you that you probably won’t come across an opportunity as perfect as this again. at least not anytime soon.

so you take it.

“…katsuki?”

the pro-hero only grunts in acknowledgment, but you readily take it as a sign to continue.

your voice is wobbly when you ask: “y’know how much i value your friendship, right?”

you chance a glance at the man, whose eyebrows are now furrowed. he’s looking gagged, so you quickly follow it up with: “that question’s rhetorical, so keep your mouth shut.”

you look away before you can see his reaction, taking another shaky inhale as you continue.

“—i’m assuming you do, what with how annoyingly perceptive you are, so you must understand that this thing that i’m about to do is very high stakes for me, and i need this to work. otherwise…”

you trail off, not willing to verbalize the humiliation and heartbreak you’re going to feel if this doesn’t work out.

“otherwise, what?” bakugou asks, voice uncharacteristically soft. so soft, that you’re forced to meet his gaze, which is starting to look like it’s searching for something hidden amidst your features.

you quickly break eye contact before you fully crumble under the scrutiny of his stare. “you know, what? i’m just gonna go for it. you’ll figure it out.”

with that, you pull up your phone, swiftly unlocking it and navigating to your ancient, shared message thread, before pasting the link you’ve copied beforehand to the chatbox and ultimately pressing send.

just as quickly as you retrieved it, you pocket it back, nodding at bakugou’s right pocket, from which resounds a familiar chime indicating a text message from you.

the pro-hero only eyes you suspiciously and somewhat in confusion as he tugs his phone into his hold, gaze still trained on you as he thumbs his password with pure muscle memory alone. finally, they drift down to the screen.

and a whirlwind of emotions dances across his face.

his voice is thick when he finally reads the link’s title out loud.

“send this to your…crush?”

he says the last word so incredulously you’re almost certain a part of your soul just died in utter shame.

may she rest in peace.

the rest of you, unfortunately, is still very much alive.

you stand there as bakugou looks up at you, features contorted into an inexplicable expression, before looking back down to his phone, then back to you again.

“…are you pulling my fucking leg?” comes his hostile reaction.

now it’s your turn to look at him in bewilderment and, if you were to be honest, mild (severe) embarrassment-induced indignation. “what? no! why would i joke about this?”

bakugou only stares at you for a beat longer, before checking the text again, like he’s making sure he read it right as if he hadn’t just been studying it so closely for the last few minutes.

“you’re—i’m—you like me?”

you try to ignore how breathy his question came out, focusing instead on willing yourself to nod in affirmation despite your body screaming at you to deny all allegations and make a run for it.

maybe you can delude yourself into thinking it’s not too late for that?

“huh.”

struggling to fight the sinking feeling that’s encroaching on your body, you force out what’s hopefully a passable chuckle to save whatever face you have left.

“now you get the otherwise i was talking about?”

“…yeah.”

the air around you turns quiet, but unlike a while ago, this lull is anything but comfortable. you glance longingly at the staircase, wishing you could go back to roughly ten minutes ago. you then look back at your best friend who’s still catatonic, staring down at his phone screen.

well.

that’s all the answer you need.

turning toward where you came from, you try your best to keep your chin up nonetheless. “i better head back, kats. mina’s probably looking for me and i should help out with—”

you’re cut off by your phone pinging, and as you scramble to bring it out of your pocket you wrack your brain for who the hell this could possibly be.

and then you see it.

(9:39 PM) blasty is the best (or sumn 🙄): (sent a link)