#rotating shoulder bearing

[sw5w]

Artoo Returns to Power-Conserve Mode

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:13:40 - 00:13:43

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[angelplummie]

art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

[peachesofteal]

The Crypt anthology

“You dropped this.”

You whirl on a dime, legs twisting together and rolling you off balance at the last second, the stranger’s hand shooting out to try to steady you before you catch yourself. “Alright little love?” Powder blue eyes hold you tight, some sort of virose thrall bearing down into your temples, rooting around in the matter between your ears.

“I’m fine.” You manage, but the words lack conviction. Long fingers dig in the soft spirals of your brain, looking for something, picking and pulling.

“Lookin’ a bit peckish there, sure you’re alright?” All you can manage is a nod, one foot sliding behind the other, placing you firmly out of reach.

“I’m fine.” The two words are all you can manage, still trying to escape the trance, the dark tug behind your ribs. Long silence plays out, and with a closer look, you register him fully. Tall. Broad. Shoulders wide enough to close in around you, green jacket faded into sun parched moss. It wouldn’t button around his chest, the waffle henley beneath doing you no favors by the way it tapers to his belt, a strong jaw cloaked by a swath of beard and moustache.

Older than you, stronger than you, an astral man amidst a city of depravity.

Step closer.

A storm cracks outside, thunder rattling the windows, your vision tunneling inside the market, people doing their shopping ebbing around you, a rock in water, stalls and their goods fading into the distance.

The only thing you can see is this stranger and his bright blue eyes. “Thanks,” you croak, knuckles tense on the strap of your bag, net of spilled oranges now safely tucked inside the canvas. When did that happen? Your smile is forced, seasick though the ground is solid beneath you, and when the eye contact breaks to flicker over your shoulder, you jolt back to your sense, and turn away.

The blue eyes stay with you all the way home, into your flat, through the night. You think about them as you cook yourself dinner, as you pour yourself a too generous glass of wine. You feel them as you curl up on the couch, malignant presence lingering just outside your window.

It’s only once you undress and slip under your blankets that you finally feel a semblance of peace, as if the gaze has moved on, the undying focus abated in a sliver of moonlight.

Your dreams are filled with blood.

An oil slick across an ocean, too vast to know where it ends and begins, you fight to keep your head above water, legs kicking frivolously in the dark, terror tight around your throat, horror lurking on the outside of your mind. Thalassophobia renders you almost useless, the panic just enough to keep the drowning at bay.

Can you die in a dream?

A hand appears from nowhere, and you cling to it, wailing and gasping until you’re pulled ashore, laid flat on your back against black stone sand.

“Alright little love?” Him. The same eyes peer down, shining like the sun, chasing away the darkness settled in around you. He stuns you.

“Y-yeah.” He’s close enough cigar smoke permeates your air, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt like a lifejacket. It takes a moment, a second of realization-

You’re covered in blood. Hands, feet, forearms, face. It coats your lips, iron and earth in your nose, soaked all the way to your lungs. Heavier than tar, slicked to your windpipe, drowning your beating heart in ichor.

“Oh god, oh my god, what- what is this, what is this-“ You’ve never heard your own voice at this pitch, shrill, piercing, the sound of someone crying, the sound of someone freefalling.

That can’t be you, can it?

“Easy now.” He holds you by the shoulders. The sun and moon cycle overhead, light and darkness rotating, disorienting you further, a whimper crawling from your throat. “Shhh, I know, I know,” he rubs your temple, thumb stained ruby red, and then lifts it to his mouth, lips curled into a devilish smile, “knew you’d be perfect f’me.” The ground begins to shake, the sky splitting apart, white tendrils snaking across the sea to your ankles, and he frown, disappointment lingering in the lines of his face. The rough scrape of his beard presses to your cheek with a kiss, and he nestles a coin into the palm of your hand, the dream turning opaque before disappearing completely, your eyes opening to ceiling of your bedroom.

Just a dream, you remind yourself throughout the day. Just a dream, though it’s nearly impossible to keep your mind from wandering, remembering, tasting the salt of the ichor like it’s still fresh on your tongue.

“Hey!” Your coworker snaps her fingers, alarm flashing across her face. “Are you okay? You look… sick.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you should call it a day. Seriously, you look like death.” Your agreement is weak as she practically shoves you out the door. “Go home and take a nap or something.”

“Hello again.” Your heart jolts, battering against your bones in a frantic beat. “No need to be scared.” You blink. “I’m John… from the market yesterday? You dropped your oranges?”

“John.” Your tongue ties around his name, and though its polite to give yours, you can’t force it out. His brow furrows.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Good sense and manners appear, spurred on by years of chastising by your mother, and you grimace.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m a bit under the weather.” He looms ahead of you, blocking a portion of the sidewalk.

“Headed home then?” You nod. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.” He gives you a sharp look, the dispel to an argument, razored, jagged teeth closing in around your attempt at a refusal, and pulls at your wrist, thumb holding steady over your pulse point, heart rate slowing from a panic to a lull.

Your head hangs, and you slump, exhaustion tugging your limbs down towards the ground. The path doesn’t split before you, no way to choose one way or another, hedgerows too tall to peer over, lost and unable to discern the way. Your hands find your pockets, and brush across something unfamiliar and cool.

A coin.

Darkness closes in around you-

And the word goes black.

You wake in a bed.

Not your bed.

It’s big, wide enough your legs and arms spread out with touching the edge of the mattress. The sheets are fine, cotton you could never afford, threads delicate, spun silk. Luxury. A far cry from your one-bedroom flat.

“There you are.” Time jolts, bringing you into the present with startling speed, a hand clasping over your mouth before you can release a scream. “No need for that.”

“John?” You mumble into his palm. Your head is natant, woozy with the rocking, feet scrambling on a ship far away, desperate to hold tight to a rail, a lifeline, a moment of balance in a violent storm. “I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a haunting, familiar taste on your lips and you lick them over and over, the tip of an iceberg, a memory just barely visible above placid water. You grasp at it, tug yourself closer, swallow the nostalgia until it rears its head-

Blood.

Horror wraps an unforgiving fist around your throat.

“What-“

“Welcome home.” What? Your feet tangle in the sheets, a net around your ankles. His big, warm hand flattens over your chest, blue gaze honing in, the predator ready to devour his prey. “Can hear your heart, little love.”

“This isn’t my h-home.”

“It is now.” He’s casual, leaning by your hip, now stroking deft fingers over your ribs. “This is my home, and now it’s yours too. You don’t need to worry, you’ll be well cared for.” The cold green sick feeling surges, and you roll over to the side of the mattress, spewing the contents of your stomach onto polished hardwood floors.

It’s not bile, or water, or even food.

It’s red. Dark red, dripping off your lips like rain, flooding the grooves beneath you. He rubs your back like you’re a child who needs soothing, grip tight on your arm when you try to rip away.

“It won’t always be like this,” he coos, clucking his tongue in sympathy, “the taste is difficult to get used to.”

“The taste of what?”

“Blood.”

[these-lovely-monsters]

The Dragon's Pretty Treasure - Part 1

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!dragon x f!reader

Content: kidnapping, mild dub-con, inhuman anatomy, size difference, two dicks, dp, tail action, fluids, koala bear fleshlight

(Note: part 1 is just the setup and only contains kidnapping - aforementioned cws are for the whole story)

Series complete: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

Opening your eyes, you blink a few times, trying to adjust your vision to the darkness surrounding you. There is a faint glow that gently illuminates the space around you but everything else is mostly darkness and all you can make out are vague shapes and shadows. Looking around, you see that a small bit of light is coming from some embers in a dying fire next to you. This is definitely not your tiny studio apartment back home.

Where the hell are you?

As you sit up, you rub your eyes, groaning at the stiffness in your joints. From the aches in your muscles, you must have been asleep for a while. Looking down, you realize that you are lying on a bed of what seem to be soft furs or pelts of some kind. A cool breeze drifts in from somewhere and you shiver, realizing that you are also naked. 

What the fuck happened?

But before you can try to rack your foggy brain to figure it out, a giant yellow eye the size of your head blinks open at the edge of the darkness across from you. Yelping in shock, you scramble backwards as the eye rotates to reveal a second one just as large and luminescent. Both eyes have giant slitted pupils and seem to glow in the darkness. Before you can get far, something smooth and cool wraps around your waist, holding you in place. Heart pounding in your ears, you glance down to find that it is a dark green, almost black, appendage covered in scales. Extending from the darkness, it winds around your stomach with the end coming to a tapered point near your navel. It squeezes gently, hard enough to hold you firm but not enough to hurt.

Holy shit, is it a tail of some sort?

Too terrified to move further, you hold your breath and look back up at the giant yellow orbs peering at you from the shadows. Slowly, they begin to draw closer, and you hear heavy, measured thuds echo off the walls. As the eyes approach the dying fire, a massive snout comes into view and then a head the size of a car follows. Your eyes bug as you take in the scaly surface of a face, with ridged brows and a line of spikes running in increasing size from the tip of its snout up and over the back of its head. Two large horns protrude from above its brows and curve backwards towards where you assume its shoulders would be.

When its snout is a few inches from your face, you tremble as its nostrils flare and it inhales deeply. Then it exhales with a low rumbling sound as its hot breath fans across your face, blowing strands of hair off your shoulders.

It’s…sniffing you!

You nearly jump out of your skin when a deep, inhuman voice booms through the cavern and you have to cover your ears from the sheer volume.

“You are awake.”

The voice continues to echo off the walls for a few moments and then silence settles again, apart from the monster’s deep rhythmic breaths and your pounding heart. Slowly, you lower your hands from your ears and realize, belatedly, that it hadn’t moved its mouth when it spoke.

Had it projected its voice or are you just going crazy? Probably just going crazy.

“Where…where am I?” you manage to stammer out.

“My cave,” it rumbles again, softer this time, as if it realized its voice was too loud.

Oh fuck, you are going to die here, cold and naked in this cave.

Beginning to hyperventilate, you start to struggle in the grasp of its tail. 

“Please don’t eat me!” you shout. 

You need to figure out a way to get out of here!

It lets out a low, chuffing sound, which must be a chuckle and says, “I don’t plan to eat you.” And before you know what’s happening, its jaws part slightly and a giant, tapered tongue slips between massive, razor sharp teeth and licks up the side of your neck.

Shit, this monster definitely wants to eat you.

“Why am I here?” you squeak, utterly terrified but trying to keep it talking in the hopes you can figure out an escape plan before it decides it’s done playing with its food.

“I wanted a pretty treasure for my horde.”

A pretty treasure?... Does he mean you?

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

I promise there will be smut in part 2!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Bonus: here is a size comparison if you're wondering just how big this guy really is...

[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬����𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

[kittenintheden]

how to train your brat

oh fuck it you gremlins have this mess of a scene lol. consider it a sneak preview for a far future chapter of NYS. you can skip it if you want to save it for later.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (f!OC) Word Count: 2.2k Content: 18+, Ori bratting, (unascended) Astarion brat-taming, light BDSM elements, blowjob, teasing, dirty talk, light spanking, orgasm denial, PIV sex, established relationship, safe sane consensual, future NYS content

The moment the door swings shut, Astarion throws the bolt and stalks up behind Ori, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her flush against him so that she can feel his arousal against her arse. She hums and pushes back into it, thinking she knows what he has planned, so he gives her a little shake.

He puts his mouth to her ear and growls, “Oh, darling, you think you’ve earned this? My little scoundrel. You’ve been nothing short of a complete brat all damned day.”

“You liked it,” she teases, attempting to tilt her head back so she can nip at his ear. He doesn’t let her move.

“She thinks she’s so very clever, leaving me aching for hours,” he whispers, giving her one more light shake to drive the point home that she’s not to move. He releases one of her arms and reaches straight down the front of her leggings, seeking the slick he knows waits there. She groans and grinds into his touch, trying to get a draw across her clit, but he intentionally pulls back.

“No, no,” he says, removing his hand and bringing his fingers, shining with wet, to his mouth so he can lick his tongue along them. “You don’t get rewarded for this behavior. Don’t think I haven’t been able to tell that you’ve been soaking through your smallclothes all day. This was all for you. Filthy girl.”

She hums again, the flush across her cheeks belying her nonchalance. “And what, pray tell, are we going to do about that?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” he says, spinning her around so he can put a hand under her jaw and make her look him in the face. “You’re the brat. Do you know what happens to brats?”

“What’s that?” she breathes, her smile seductive and easy. She peeks out her tongue to curl toward his mouth.

“Brats have to beg,” he whispers, holding her in place. “So get on your knees and ask sweetly. And if you’re a very good girl and I’m feeling very generous, I might let your needy cunt take the cock it so desperately wants.”

She pouts, then, sticking out her lower lip and giving him her biggest, saddest eyes. “Even though I could soothe your ache? It must be so much to bear by now.” 

His grin spreads over his face and he shakes his head. “You’ve no idea how long I can wait, my love,” he says. “Your move.”

Ori gives him several slow blinks, judging his resolve. When he doesn’t waver, she smirks and turns her head just enough to place a tiny lick along his thumb.

Then she goes down.

His breath catches. Part of him hadn’t expected her to do it. Thought she’d tap out. But she doesn’t. She’s on her knees before him, looking up doe-eyed and waiting for whatever’s next. Waiting for him to tell her what’s next.

Astarion’s pupils blow out and he exhales.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, voice pitched low.

Ori puts her hands behind her back.

He rotates his shoulders and his spine goes straight as he looks down at her, a calm settling over him. A confidence. It’s like pulling on a persona, but it’s more than that, because he wants to do it. He wants to be this version of himself right now, and he can take it off again if he chooses.

Astarion puts a knuckle under her chin and sharpens the tilt of her head, making it so she has no choice but to look him directly in the eye.

“Are you going to be good for me, Orianna?” he says in a voice like honey.

She licks along her lips and leaves them parted a moment before she answers, “Yes, dearest. I’ll be so good for you.”

A shiver runs up his spine and he huffs a laugh, rolling his neck before he looks down at her again. “You certainly will.” His fingers go to his laces, undoing his stays without any particular hurry as Ori’s eyes trace the action. He reaches inside and strokes along his cock, throwing his head back with a sigh at the temporary relief. His head tips forward again and he continues to work himself.

Ori bites her lip and slowly lets it go as she watches the movement.

He’s breathy as he says, “If I were a cruel man, I’d do it myself while you watch and then leave you wanting after how you’ve behaved.” Stroke. Stroke. “But I’ll be generous. I’ll give you a chance to convince me.”

She shudders her breath out and flicks her eyes back up to his face.

Stroke.

“If you’d like to come tonight,” he purrs. “Then beg for what you want, brat.”

Ori swallows and he watches her face go soft and pleading, lip quivering. He knows it’s an act, just like his, but gods is it convincing.

“I’m so sorry, love,” she says tearfully. “I’ve been just awful. I’m desperate for you. Empty. I need you, beloved. Your touch. Your mouth. Your cock. Please let me do better. Please, may I? May I be good for you?”

The rush of arousal makes him lightheaded, swaying on his feet for a second before he rights himself. “Show me how good,” he breathes, pulling his cock free for her. “Slowly, now.”

She holds his eye as she leans forward, arms clasped tightly behind her back, and licks the flat of her tongue along the underside of the head of his cock, working extra carefully around the sensitive bit where his foreskin connects.

His right knee buckles the tiniest bit before he catches himself.

Ori maintains eye contact as she kisses down the shaft and runs her tongue along the seam between his balls and all the way back up again.

He swallows thickly and raises a brow at her. “You can do better, darling.”

Rising to the challenge, Ori takes him fully in her mouth, bobbing down halfway the first time and then a little deeper with each successive try. She hollows her cheeks and her mouth is hot and soft and her tongue is rolling in waves along his length. He struggles not to simply melt into the sensation. 

As directed, she keeps an agonizing pace, sucking him slowly so he can feel every bit of it. He breathes in deep through his nose and exhales through his mouth as he watches her pleasuring him at his direction, leaving herself untouched. It stokes the fire in his belly and he can’t stop the moan in his throat as the tension of the day catches up with him.

Gently, he cants his hips to meet her, beginning to lose himself in the relief her sweet mouth provides. His eyes fall closed and he cards his fingers through her hair on one side, thumb instinctively rubbing small circles against her ear. She moans around him and Astarion feels his cock harden further.

“Oh, good girl,” he whispers. “Ah, such a good girl.”

The deliciously slow build begins to develop a sharper edge, his pleasure mounting.

But oh, he’s not done with her yet.

With an absolutely monumental effort, Astarion claws the shredded strings of his thoughts back together long enough to use his hand to stop her movement. He draws back from her and she peers up at him, waiting, a strand of her saliva still connecting them. She blinks her wide eyes at him like an innocent.

“Up,” he grunts, holding out a hand for her. She accepts it and allows him to pull her to standing.

He can see that she’s gone glassy-eyed at this point, and the briefest brush over the tadpole connection reveals that she’s almost as mad with lust as he is, all from pleasing him so thoroughly.

And just like that, he feels the rush of having the upper hand again. He kisses her hard, both hands on either side of her head, and backs her toward the bed. Though their bodies are crushed together, he manages to run his hands down to her leggings, shoving them roughly over her hips just before her knees hit the bed and she goes onto her back. She lifts her legs to help him get her bottoms all the way off and sits up on the edge of the mattress, legs spread and a triumphant smile on her face, chest heaving in anticipation.

Astarion bends at the waist with a fist pressed to either side of her thighs on the bed, leaning in as if for a kiss. When she tilts her face forward, he stops just short of her mouth.

Ori’s brow furrows the tiniest bit in confusion.

“Did you think you’d earned cock, just for that?” he whispers against her lips. “Silly thing.”

She gives a surprised huff of a laugh. “I… what?”

He reaches up a thumb to draw across her lower lip, watching as it goes. “You vastly underestimate the amount of bollock-ache you left me with today.”

“Astarion,” she sighs in frustration.

“What happens to brats, Ori?” he teases.

She squeezes her eyes shut and blows a curl out of her face. The intensity in her gaze when she opens them again is off the charts. “Brats have to beg,” she says.

“I’m listening,” he says with a smirk.

“Gods damn it,” she huffs, throwing her head back. She rights herself and says, “Touch me. Please. Now. Anything, just touch me, for fucksake, I’m losing my mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Terrible. Let me help you find your focus.” With nimble fingers, he reaches down between her legs. “What was it you said? My touch.” He presses his finger lightly to the seam of her and strokes along it, enough to give her a shiver but nowhere near enough for relief. She twists her hips toward his hand with a whine, desperate for more, but he’s already gone.

“My mouth,” he adds, bending down and preening at the sound of her sucking in her breath as he places an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh before righting himself.

“Or my cock,” he finishes, tilting his head to look her in the face as he takes himself in his own hand.

She gives her head a little shake, not understanding.

He grins wide. “You only get one. Ask for it.”

“Cock,” she says immediately. “Cock, please.”

Astarion can’t help the laugh that spills out of him at her eagerness. He takes her by the waist and pulls her up, spinning her around and nudging her back onto the mattress on her hands and knees. A shudder flows down her back and she arches deep, ready to take him. The pearl of her arousal is so swollen at this point that he can see it peeking from between her folds. Everything between her legs is flushed and shining with want, begging to be touched.

His mouth waters and he swallows it back before coming in close to stand just behind her, taking his cock in hand and barely, barely running the head over her clit.

“Please,” Ori blurts, almost a sob, and this time it sounds genuine. “I need you so badly, sweetheart, please. Wanted your cock all day. Gods, I’ll be good, please fuck me, please.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls as he lines himself up and pushes inside all the way to the hilt.

Ori’s hands slide over the sheets and she deepens her arch even further, crying out her relief and pressing herself back against him as hard as she can, rocking. His mind blanks in pure bliss, eyes rolling, and his body takes over, fucking firmly into her with abandon.

“Gonna be so good,” Ori cries out as she meets him thrust for thrust, fists bunched. “So good for you, promise, I… please, yes.”

“Beautiful brat,” he pants, giving her an open-handed swat on the arse.

Ori yelps and fucks back harder, grinding her clit against him. “Hells, again.”

He swats again and she goes hot and fluttering around him.

“Astarion,” she cries. “Astarion, gods.”

She comes in a languid wave over the length of him and he grunts and curls his body over hers, knee on the mattress as he rides through it.

“Again,” he huffs. He angles his hips to hit her sensitive spot and she howls at the sensation.

“Fucking hells,” she groans. “I don’t…”

Astarion reaches up a hand to cup her chin and lift it so he can put his mouth against her ear. “Good girls come on my cock twice. Again.”

She sounds out the building pressure in bleating little sobs, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of her eyes as he rolls deep inside her, his own end spiraling closer with every passing second.

“Again,” he whispers. “Again.”

Her second orgasm hits twice as hard, a supernova burst that leaves her voiceless, mouth round in a silent scream. An entire day’s worth of tension releases at once, the rush of it dripping from her.

Astarion closes his eyes and lets her pull the pleasure from him. He comes so hard his ears ring from it, tipping gloriously over to the other side and filling her still further until the place where they meet is a complete mess.

He stands there a long moment, listing to one side with his chest heaving, one foot flat on the floor and the other leg bent at the knee on the mattress.

They teeter.

And fall onto the bed in a tangle.

A long moment later, Astarion groans and mumbles, “Hope you learned your lesson.”

“Gonna do it again,” Ori mumbles in response. “So much.”

He wheezes out a laugh.

[sweetbans29]

Down Low - KM

Pairing: Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: After figuring out what you have is real, you and Kate navigate keeping your relationship on the down low (based on THIS request)

Warnings: very mildly suggestive, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Here is another cute KM fic!

"So how are we going to do this?" You ask the girl sitting on your bed. She is wrapped in one of your sweatshirts and holding Stuffy, the teddy bear you refuse to sleep without.

She shrugs. Neither of you really know what to say.

"We take it one day at a time and if it gets weird or hurts the team we stop," Kate says, looking down at the arms of the teddy bear she is playing with.

You nod. Neither of you really want to stop what you are doing.

You and Kate are heading into your fourth year at Iowa while Kate is entering her fifth. The two of you have been doing this little dance around your feelings for the past three years. That is until the two of you both decided to stay around during the summer. Summer was really only about 6 weeks but it was enough for you and her to start exploring the unspoken feelings each of you has been harboring. And boy were the two of you glad you did.

The two of you spent the past six weeks exploring the city and each other. It could not have been better. But now that summer is over and the team is getting back to start pre-season workouts the two of you are faced with reality.

"Mmmhmmm, one day at a time," you repeat what she says but can't hide the disappointment in your tone.

Kate stands up and comes to wrap herself around you. You turn to face her and nuzzle your way into her neck, breathing her in.

"When I say one day at a time, I don't mean my feelings for you. Baby, those are sure but one day at a time with the team, okay?" She explains, trying to reassure you.

You nod into her and know that is what she meant, but you can't help but want this little world the two of you have created to continue forever. Forever in your little bubble was unrealistic.

You let your hands that are wrapped around the taller girl sneak underneath the sweatshirt and allow your fingertips to dance across the skin of her back.

"Why can't we stay like this forever?" You ask, knowing reality is knocking at the door.

"I wish we could, I really wish we could," she says.

The team gets back and you and Kate go back to being 'just friends'. At least, friends in the eyes of the world. But the two of you are still very much figuring out what the two of you look like with everyone else around. As time passed and the two of you established this wasn't just a summer fling, you got so used to keeping your relationship between the two of you that neither of you felt the need to change anything up.

A few months pass and you couldn't be happier. The season is in full swing as games are beginning.

It is a full-team practice day before a big game coming up.

You are intently watching your team run a defensive rotation when Kate comes flying through, getting the block on one of the practice guys.

The team goes crazy as the team on the floor goes to chest bump and gives Kate her flowers.

"FREAKING MOTHER," Jada yells as the team celebrates Kate. The cheers are loud.

"Ha, more like daddy," you mutter out loud before you can catch yourself. You look around to see if anyone caught you little slip and it doesn't look like they had.

To be fair, you and Kate have been pretty active in the bedroom which may or may not be consuming your mind more often than not. It had been a newfound nickname for your girl that was up until this moment only used in the confines of your home.

When you think you are in the clear, you pat Kate's back and head to set up in your zone when you hear it.

"Oh shit," Caitlin says. "OH SHIT!"

Caitlin turns to you and puts her hands on your shoulders.

"Did you just say what I think you said?" Caitlin asks, squeezing your shoulders.

"I don't know what you are talking about," you say trying to cover up your slip.

Caitlin stares you down.

"I know you better than you know yourself, you would not go around calling just anyone that nickname," Caitlin says trying to pull your eye contact which you are actively avoiding.

"Fine, don't say anything but something is going on," Cait says letting you go. You finally let out the breath you have been holding and look over at your girl.

Your eyes meet Kate's and she immediately knows something's off. You wave her off but to your misfortune, Caitlin is out there calling Kate daddy on the next play.

Both Kate and your face are bright red when you hear the name escape Caitlin's lips and it causes the whole team to come to a halt.

"What did you just call Kate?" Jada asks.

"Daddy," Caitlin says. The whole team looks at her like she is crazy. "I am just repeating what I heard."

Caitlin then had the audacity to point at you, the bright red tomato that you are, as ever single eye in the gym gravitates towards you.

You hide your face and groan when you feel arms come around you. Kate covers you from the eyes of the team and practice squad.

"So if Kate is daddy...does that make you mother?" Jada asks pinching at your sides.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me, how long have we known each other? How long have I been saying you two would be a cute ass couple? Do I even know you at all?" Caitlin says barreling into you.

"8 months," Kate says pushing your intruder away from you.

"EIGHT MONTHS," Caitlin yells. "And you really think you know someone. I will be taking applications for a new best friend since BOTH of mine have betrayed me."

"CC, it has nothing to do with you," you say a smile finally making its way on you as you push the girl. "We liked the simplicity and your loud mouth couldn't keep a secret to save your life."

"Hey!" Caitlin combats but all of you know it's true.

You are all laughing and there is a shared sense of relief in both you and Kate. You didn't know how the team would react but it is better than either of you would have expected. Not as a lack of their understanding but more so to your fear.

"As long as I get to be in the wedding, I'm good," Caitlin says.

"Yeah - as my best woman," Kate says at the same exact time as you say, "Of course - as my maid of honor."

Your head whips to look at Kate who is already staring you down.

"She can't be your maid of honor if she is my best woman," Kate says like it's a known thing, Caitlin being on her side instead of yours.

"In your dreams Martin, she has been my best friend since high school - there is no question she is standing by my side," you say.

"She could always officiate..." Jada decides to pitch in her two cents.

Kate and your heads turn to her and simultaneously say, "No."

The whole team laughs as you and Kate continue to bicker. The coaches call for practice to continue.

Any time you were standing next to Kate, the two of you could be seen in the same little argument about who gets Caitlin. It even follows you back to your apartment when Caitlin is sick of hearing it.

"Okay that's enough," Caitlin says, rubbing her head. "I will be neither of your best woman or maid of honor."

You and Kate come to your senses and turn to the girl who just made the statement, now arguing with her as to how crazy it would be to not have her in the wedding party.

It didn't stop the arguing, but it did turn the tables so you and Kate were on the same side.

If you were honest, you would give Kate anything she wanted on your big day and she would do the same. At the end of the day, you both knew what was coming and had no problems with it. It was all a part of the plan. The plan the two of you drew up that first week of summer. The plan to spend the rest of your lives arguing about stupid things with each other because neither of you could imagine arguing with anyone else.

The plan of Kate and you against the world.

AN: A short but cute one in my opinion. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 💛

[pedge-page]

Wait ok hear me out. Bored preggo wife starts reading smut and finds she really enjoys a breeding kink/men getting real nasty and aggressively talking about breeding their woman. So she asks Joel to try it and when he does, she’s like grossed out “uhh… nevermind” and he’s so fuckin frustrated and blue balled 😂

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Role Play Me Not

Notes: Thank you for your patience with these requests lately, this one was from March and I've been thinking about it ever since!

warnings: almost smut, lots of dirty talk and degrading language, and usual shennanigans with these two

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s pretty late, Joel’s body is wracked, and nothing feels better than the foam mattress bed he’s curled up on. You had a pretty good day, judging by your happy soft hums and scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Hopefully whatever nonsense thing you’re gonna purchase with his card and surprise his doorstep tomorrow morning won’t be too harrowing, but for now, he’ll live with it if it means some rest.

But your incessant giggles, matched with the way you’re shrinking under your brightly lit phone reading something so furiously just begs Joel to ask:

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothin!” You quip quickly, rotating best you can so he can’t see the obvious thing you’re hiding on your phone.

“Okay.” He tosses the cover over his shoulder and presses his head back into the pillow again to close his eyes.

Obviously not the answer you wanted, so you loudly snort with your fake ass ‘Tee Hee!’ again because this motherfucker better take the god damn hint.

He sighs. “What.”

“Hmm? Nothin!”

Joel squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. You can’t see his face from your side, but even if you could, he doesn’t think it would deter you.

You clear your throat before uttering your loudest and most obnoxious giggle.

“JUST—!” Tossing the covers down and rolling to his back, he remembers to take a breath, channeling his calm bear voice. “���just show me already. Please.” He’s exhausted, rubbing his face with both hands before holding out one palm behind him for you to place your phone.

You excitedly shove it in his grasp, and Joel rolls over to see. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness, so he collects his reading-glasses from the tableside and props them upon his nose.

Its quiet for a solid minute, and your heart is racing as he stare at his broad back, the fabric of his shirt all stretched tight to accentuate that massive man of man that is your manly man—

He rolls back over with a questionable uncertainty, fear and paralysis mixed with concern and shock.

You’re giddily nodding your head, lips tucked under your teeth from the excitement. “Can we do that?”

He opens his mouth but no words come out. He doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“This is—uh. you like…this?”

“Well I don’t know, but I wanna give it a try…”

He scratches his skull with two fingers, hoping it’ll dig deep enough to itch the bad feeling he has in his brain. “I don’t know, baby, It’s a bit … much.” 

“But you call me your pretty slutty wife sometimes! It’s not much different!”

He glances back at the vivid words on the screen. It is VERY much different than that. But you put on your famous puppy pout, with those big round gleaming eyes, trembling fishy lips staring up at him, topping it off by squishing your tits together so they’re bursting out of the nightgown and smashing into his chest.

That’ll do it.

He shrugs, chucking his bifocals behind him with renewed energy arousing his body, especially down south. He gets to his knees, pulling your cover off from your lap and tracing his big hands over the soft expanse of your thigh like a new toy. you bite your lips, shouldering off your spaghetti straps so your tits are close to being popped out. He rolls the soft fabric of your gown up your growing belly and presses his lips against the swell. “Shit, that’s what I like to see. Gonna be a little fuck toy whore for Daddy to play with?”

“Ah…time out.” You hold your hands in a T formation. He stops rubbing and looks down towards your face. 

“Uh—yes?”

“I don’t like whore.”

“Ah okay—Daddy’s fuck toy?”

“Ok that’s—mmm.”

“What? No good?”

“It’s just ok. We’ll work on that. You can keep going.”

He shakes his head a little but resumes his gentle ghost of his fingers and lips, cascading lower until the scratchy prickle of his beard is at your naval. “Bred ya nice n’ good huh? Little breedin’ stock just f’me—“

“Oh hold on.”

“What.”

“Breeding ‘stock’? What am I, chicken soup?” You chuckle.

He purses his lips. “I don’t know, it was in the damn fic you made me read!”

“Okay okay, sheesh!” You toss your hands up.

“Can I please keep goin now?”

You nod, and he commences lower. 

“Body was made for breeding. Now spread those petals—“

“Oh what I’m a flower now?”

“Damnit, Baby! Am I doin this or not??” He curses. 

You go quiet and nod again, shrinking in against the headboard.

“Just about had it with ya whinin’, baby. I should tie you up like the naughty cow you are—“

“Farm metaphor again?”

“N BREED YOU—“ he seethes, gripping your thighs and hitching them around his hips so you can feel his bulge press into your core. “Breed you over and over again, like the dumb little cum dump you deserve—“

“Ugh hold up this position isn’t comfortable I need ta—“ you wiggle out of his grasp and begin trying to alleviate the pressure your baby is putting on your spine. Joel all but abandons holding your legs as he sits on his knees in front of you with his thumb and finger pressed tightly into his eye sockets. 

You wiggle and roll, unable to find a good position to sink yourself comfortably. The bed shifts with each turn, and Joel is damn near done role playing with you and about to just fuck you with your face down in the mattress whether you wanted to or not when—

“Okie! I’m ready Daddio!” You announce. 

You’re in the exact same position.

“Are we good to continue?” He asks slowly, his frustration being held at bay along with his hard cock that’s begging for some action finally.

You nod. 

He finally tugs his dick out and positions it at your entrance, spitting onto your slit. “Now shut up, take this fucking cock, and let me fuck my seed into you cuz that’s all ya good for—“

“Ya know what.” You wave your hand over this whole scene. “I’m done. This is … no. Nevermind, I’m done with this. M’ready for bed now.”

You slap his cock away like it’s a needy hand and roll to your side, slinking the cover over your shoulder again and turning off your light with a little grin. 

Joel just falls back on his haunches, his cheeks puffed red, balls swollen blue, fully awake all over, with a grumpy cat-worthy scowl etched into his face staring down at you.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[sw5w]

Artoo-Detoo

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:07

[fanaticsnail]

Kind And Gentle

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, Friends to lovers, confessions of love, suggestive dialogue, massaging - reader receiving, pain, aching, yearning, small kiss, Shanks is a meanie, swearing, teasing, Beckman is a softie, Beckman is a gentleman, term of endearment "Darlin'" used - it's just what I associate him saying.

Notes: Pure self-indulgence fic, procrastinating while I should be going through my WIPs. My shoulder hurts, guys. Needed this to get out of my system and get through the pain. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @missbeckman @tiredemomama

Pain. White and hot, swelling and encumbering. This was what you were experiencing in the middle of your spine; just a little to the right side of your body.

The ache never eased, no matter what position you slept in, nor adjusting your posture throughout the day. It was unending, the torment which knit your muscles together and cemented them in place. 

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, bracing yourself against the wooden hallway wall as you rotate your neck in a circle atop your shoulders slowly. Arching your back, you winced as the knot continued to integrate itself in a woven entanglement of painful muscle beneath your skin. 

Biting back a whimper, you tried as you might to reach the cursed divot beneath your flesh, whining quietly as your fingertips barely brushed against the surface of the painful coil. The ache called to you, the burden causing a small tremor in your lips from the electric heat of the hidden wound. 

Shaking your head, you huffed out a breath as you attempted to soldier on about your daily chores. Ignoring the tight ache beneath your skin with a deep grimace written on your lips, you finally gave into your pain and balanced your hands against the wooden beam atop the deck of the Red-Force. 

The sea breeze hit your nose, relaxing you briefly before the pain eclipsed all your senses. Brain foggy with anguish, lips parted and panting, eyes frantic and wife: you could bear it no longer. You muted a cry, muffling it within your mouth while you tried to release the elastic coil in your back by twisting your torso. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you curse in a soft whisper, your brows rising in a pain-riddled peak in your forehead. You moaned out in a soft whimper, praying nobody could hear your weakness as you tried to reach for the spot a second time.

The band was bordering on excruciating, your mind contemplating whether or not to seek out Hongo for medical attention due to the intensity of the pain. Just as you began to turn on your way, two strong hands clapped over your shoulders: thumbs moving in rough circles against your skin. 

“I got you, Darlin’,” the gruff voice Shanks’ first mate whispered in a calming rumble, “Just tell me when I'm gettin’ close to it.” 

Benn Beckman. It was always Benn Beckman. Any time any of the crew needed anything, no task too small, no feat too great: Beckman was the champion you had all grown accustomed to rely on. Leaning back into his touch, you hung your neck low to grant him greater access

“Oh-... mmmf-... -‘kay,'' you whimpered, curving your back down to expose more of your spine to him, “It's not-... Hhah-... It's not normally this-...fucking, shit-... -this bad.” A small click of his tongue snapped at you in empathy as his thumbs brushed against the coil of pain. 

Although your friendship with Beckman ran deep, you had never engaged with him physically before. You respected one another, adored one another, and were as close as two crewmates could be. Two sides of a coin, twin edges of a blade, the gunpowder and the spark that lit the fuse - this was how you were described by your red-headed captain. 

But as his thumbs sought out your deepest pain, all your thoughts escaped you. There was nothing else, just: Beckman, his focus and his expert touch. 

“Just a touch to the right-... ahh, Becks!” you cried out as his digits flicked over the painful swell beneath your flesh. Huffing out pants of breath, you sobbed in strained relief as he continued massaging your body. 

“Oh, fuck. It's there, isn't it?” he whispered, the thumb of his right hand pressed firmly against the tight knot as his left hand braced you against the side-beam of the boat, “There it is, Darlin’. I found it. There's the spot.” You arched your back within his broad hands, your arms stiffening in firm pillars against the deck as he prodded the painful peak in your back. 

“Oh, that's it! Right there, that's the spot,” you mewled out, crying and gasping for him as he untangled your muscles with his rough, practiced hands. Just as he pressed his strength further against you, you winced out a strangled, “Fuck, not so rough! Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” 

“Darlin’, this is me being kind and gentle,” he bullied his thumb into your skin, stapling you to the wall of the ship by his hips and holding you steady with his hand perched on your left shoulder, “You need a bit of rough treatment. Hold still, let me coax it out of you.”

“Becks,” you whispered out his name, lulling your head back on your shoulders as he continued to pry, paw and claw the knot apart with his right hand, “Becks it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” his gruff voice reassured you, the gentle hold of his left hand against your shoulder contradicted the right hand that bruised your muscles, “It'll all be over soon. I'm nearly there, I can feel your body moving it with me. Just hold on.”

His thumb pressed an intentional swipe up, directing the pain up your back and into the peaked corner of your shoulder. His brows knit low in deep concentration, prompting him to suck in an empathetic breath in anticipation. 

“Ohh… You're gonna hate me,” he whispered in your ear, kicking your feet apart with his heavy boots before anchoring his pelvis against your glutes to hold you firmer against the ship's wooden railing, “You need an elbow.”

“No, no, no! Not an elbow!” you cried, just as his right elbow drew itself against your spongy flesh, “Becks! It's-... nnmfph-... too much! Ahh! Too much!”

Attempting to break from his grip, you shook yourself away from his hands, only for your body to immediately betray you. Bent over the railing, your back immediately became unraveled by a firm grip and a strong elbow to the point that ailed you. 

“Oh hush, you need it,” he barked in a soft tone, eclipsing your concern with an intentional rotation of his elbow against your shoulder, “Be a good little thing and take it.” He was moving the vines of the entanglement away from the source point, breaking it down beneath his body and flushing it out with heavy swipes. 

Benn Beckman was experiencing the toughest battle he had ever had the displeasure in engaging with. He was trying to tune out how good you sounded calling out his name in pants and whines, his own empathetic huffs and groans mixing harmoniously with yours as he gripped your flesh.

“Benn Beck-...fuck-... It's right there. Right there, Becks! Don't stop!” you whimpered, your voice high and your desperation showcased in the soft pants of your breath. The release of your entangled flesh was just within Beckman's grasp, prompting him to switch back to using his fingers to expel the pressure beneath your skin. 

“I got you. There ya’ go,” he confirmed again, expanding the heel of his palm against the binding presence of the last of the entanglement, “Breathe through it with me, I'm not gonna stop ‘til you're done.” 

“Oh, fuck Beckman,” your eyes glazed over, your lips parting and crying out in bliss as his skillful ministrations cast out the pressure in your shoulder as a priest would cleanse unholy ground to make their sanctuary.

“Th-That’s it. Oh m-my fuck-,” you whined back into his hands, “You're so good. Your hands feel so good.” As the last of the knot fled your shoulder, a warm chuckle rumbled from behind you. Beckman's laugh brought you comfort, his softness depicted in this small moment as he held you in his arms. 

His firm hands turned soft, caressing your shoulders in tender, gentle touches. He molded both of your shoulders within his palms, your body becoming jelly beneath his rough and calloused hands. You moaned softly as he maneuvered your body in a perfect arch against his chest, the rumble of his chuckle reverberating within your back to vibrate within your chest. 

“Better?” he whispered in the shell of your ear, easing his body back to enable you to escape his broad cage. Instead of breaking away from his body, you relaxed into his arms, sighing out a warm breath of contentment. 

“Thank you, Becks. You're bloody amazing at that,” you praised him, feeling light and free of the bonds that confined you, “Why did you offer to help me with it?” 

“There was something in your face that told me you needed it,” he shrugged, huffing a small chuckle out of his nose and leant down to rumble out a whisper in your ear, “Always wanna help you, Darlin’.”

“Oh Becks, I could kiss you,” you turned in his arms, gazing through half-hooded eyelids up at him, “Can I?”

He smirked down at you, a small pink due flushing his cheeks with a subtle dust, bobbing his head in a soft nod to grant you permission. As you circled your arms over his neck and began to draw him closer to your lips, a chorus of barked laughter and an uproar of cheers echoed along the hull of the ship. Clapping hands, whistles and hoots erupted from your crew now surrounding the two of you. 

“Oh, Beckman,” your captain cackled at you, his right hand clapping over his heart, “In public, big guy? And you,” he pointed his index finger at you, his wolfy grin painted in a drawn-out taunting smirk, “You sly little fox. Gettin’ the big man to take you right on the deck?”

“What?” you questioned your captain in a warning tone, floating your eyes between the rest of the crew gathered on the deck beside him. Shanks’ playful twinkle fluttered beneath his weighty eyelashes. 

“Be gentle with me, Becks,” he mocked in a needy moan not too dissimilar from your own, before hardening his features and deepening his voice in a grunted, “You need a bit of rough treatment,” he commented gruffly. The color drained from your face, eyes widening and lips parting once again in bashful horrification. 

“Oh right there, Becks, don't stop,” Shanks continued his performance, a small warning began to rise within Beckman's throat in a rumbled growl. Breaking out of your embrace, he grimaced at the red-head in front of him. 

“Enough, Cap’n,” Beckman snarled, reaching within his pocket and pulling out his lighter with his left hand, fishing out a cigarette to follow, “Got out a knot, s’all. You know how shit they are.” Beckman ignited the end, taking a lengthy drag and exhaling a puff away from your face. 

“Really? That's all?” Shanks cried out a laugh, the crew echoing his unashamed and carefree joy at the notion, “I thought I saw some hips moving together, Becks. You were letting some of your own groans out too, mewling like a wh-.”

“-Or should I relay half of the bullshit you curse out when Hongo releases the knots in your own shoulder?” Beckman smirked, his eyes daring his captain to say another embarrassing quip. After a pregnant pause, silent tension only momentary before another uproar of laughter barked out amongst the Red-Hair pirates. 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm done,” Shanks waved his hand in the air, shooting you a small wink before turning to face his crew, “What say we make port, huh? Resupply with some fresh drinks, a hot meal, some good company, and a comfortable sleep on dry land?”

“Aye, sir!” the crew echoed in unison, your own confirmation falling from your lips as you began maneuvering around the first-mate to resume your duties. Just as you passed Beckman's shoulder, a firm hand shot out and gripped your forearm to hold you in place. 

“Beckman?” you asked, turning to meet his eyes. You floated your own between his, hovering your attention to fixate on him completely, “Everything alright, Sir?” 

“Goin’ back to ‘Sir’ again, after all that,” he murmured, barely above comprehension. Your quizzical feeling never left you, still hovering between the lenses of his glassy orbs. 

“How you feeling?” he asked as he pressed down the filter end of the cigarette beneath the pad of his thumb, placing the butt-end in the small drawer attached to the hull of the ship, “I get it all out, or the ache still hangin’ in there?”

Humming in thought, you rotated your right arm and felt the ghost of your prior pain simmer down and flee from your form. The small pinch only remained behind in memory, but the small remnants of the ache threatened to return. 

“It's gone for now, I think,” you uttered with a small shrug, “It'll likely begin the slow journey back up my spine in a pinch.” Beckman hummed in thought, nodding along as he checked over your body for any changes. 

After a small lull, you held your ground as the atmosphere once again fell into awkwardness. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, sucking in a breath to elevate your courage. 

“Can I buy you a drink or two when we get to port?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground and hands laced behind you, “An expression of my gratitude for you helping me out?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Beckman disguised his growing smile by arching himself away from you, loosening the tie in his hair and beginning to restyle it.

“And if I am?” you ask, still avoiding his gaze by holding your eyes firmly against the floor, “What then?”

“What then, Darlin’,'' he smirked, his eyes softening as his hands found your hips, “Is that I'd accept.” He pulled you flush with him, prompting your eyes to widen and search his gray orbs in your shock, “I wouldn't mind spending an evening with you, havin’ drinks in a quiet corner for a change.”

“It would be a nice change,” you confessed, eyes again falling soft for the first mate. He leant his hips back on the wooden railing, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. His index finger lingered on your chin, holding your eyes against his. 

“What was it for you? To have you finally make a move after all this time?” he asked, his eyes turning playful as he looked down at you through half-hooded eyes, “The hands or the elbow?”

“I think it was the words,” you confessed with a small laugh, “Not used to having the Great Benn Beckman whisper: ‘be a good little thing and take it.’ Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm being honest,” a small choked pause fell from Beckman's lips, your own question now posed to him.

“What made you accept a drink with me?” you searched his eyes quizzically, pursing your lips as you continued, “We've served together for so long, what made you consider it now?”

“Oh Darlin', I've always considered it. More than considered it,” he huffed out a chuckle, bringing your face closer to his with the curl of his index finger, “Just didn't know how much I wanted it ‘til you started sayin' my name like that.” He hovered his lips over yours, his breath still scented with the sour, smoky tang of his last cigarette as he beckoned you in. 

“Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm bein' honest,” he parroted your words back at you before finally claiming your lips beneath his own in a chaste kiss. The attention he gave your lips was brief, ending contact almost as soon as they touched. 

He pulled away from your lips, noticing your pout and slight agitation at the hastiness the kiss ended. Chuckling, he leant over your ear and confessed his intentions further. 

“Cap’n’s watchin’,” he nodded over to where Shanks’ taunting eyes and winning smile wordlessly teased you both, “Don't wanna give him more ammunition to tease you with, Darlin'. No matter how much I really wanna kiss you.”

“I owe you more,” you hummed up at him with a soft smile, tucking the loose strand of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear, “Anything I can do to repay my growing debt to you? More than a couple drinks later, a little kiss, or taking care of your duties for you today?”

“Just the promise of your company later will do for now,” he chuckled, leaning into the heel of your palm with his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Aye, Sir,” you smirked at him, giving his cheek two gentle taps before returning back to duty with a newfound rejuvenation. Your limbs felt lighter, your body felt freer and your head felt less foggy with the prior pain you felt. 

Shanks sauntered over towards his first-mate, smirking and kicking up his feet all along the way in a playful dance. Beckman shook his head, reaching for another cigarette and lit the end. Shanks leaned his head against Beck’s shoulders, uttering not a single word as he fluttered his eyelashes, wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue at the broody, larger man. 

“Don’t even start,” Beckman growled under his breath. Shanks smiled wider, jolting his right index finger into Beckman’s side as he hummed up a playful mock at him. 

“But you finally made a move, big man,” Shanks chuckled, nudging him with his left shoulder, “How long’s it been now? Two, maybe three years of longing, yearning and lusting from afar, hm?”

“Four,” Beckman commented gruffly, inhaling a deep breath of smoke in his mouth and holding it still behind his lips, “And I remember saying: ‘don’t even start’.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, I’m going,” Shanks held his right hand up in defence, an extra buzz in his step at the knowledge that Beckman and you had finally allowed a small crack in the door open to engage with one another this way. A small chuckle erupted in Shanks’ voice, his own amusement adamant over his features.

“Right there Becks, don’t stop,” Shanks’ voice whined again in a needy moan, before growling out a rumbled mock of, “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re done,” he laughed, turning back over his shoulder, “Honestly, Beckman. Show a bit of composure, man.” 

Beckman’s blush scorched scarlet on his features, prompting him to thrust the butt of his cigarette into the drawer and begin to charge at his Captain. Shanks shrieked out a giddy cry of amusement at his first-mate.

“Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” Shanks laughed, turning tail and began running away in glee from successfully taunting his first mate. The barrelling boot heels of the first mate almost managed to catch up to the Captain immediately, but Shanks continued successfully darting away from Beckman’s disciplinary grasp.

[hp-hcs]

i see your theo and mattheo are bottoms post so i ask of you BOTTOM 👏🏻 YANDERE 👏🏻 FICS 👏🏻 i'd go feral if you dropped any plsplspls 😭‼️

• smut • hook up boyfriend — yandere! switch! theodore nott x male! switch! toxic! reader

look at this little bottom bitch he’s mine back off

so, my boyfriend proofreads most of my works on here, and i gave him my rough draft for this ask. he then said, and i quote, "jesus christ, [hp-hcs]. you write smut like a nun." and then he took my phone from me. so basically, this is a long winded way of saying that my boyfriend helped me write all the smexy stuff. tell me if I should let him keep helping me or if he's a god awful smut writer who should not be allowed within a hundred feet of my tumblr, mkay?

INCREDIBLY TOXIC READER JFC WHYD I MAKE YOU SUCH A MANIPULATIVE BASTARD IDK

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI, amab reader, switch reader, implied unprotected sex w/ multiple sexual partners (you’re not magic irl. wrap it before you tap it.), lot of power dynamic changes—traditional top dom/bottom sub but also some top sub/bottom dom stuff as well, toxic shit in general, lot of manipulation, pretty mild yandere from theo, degradation, praise

i’m of the opinion that theo would be a bottom/dom just so that he could save face for posterity

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What do you mean I can’t hook up with him?”

“Because you’re already hooking up with me!”

“So? We’re not exclusive, Theodore.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Friends with benefits. That’s it. I’m not beholden to give you my loyalty and undivided attention, dipshit.”

Theo growls and runs a hand through his hair while he paces around his dorm. You lay back on his bed, watching him with a bored expression.

“But he’s my best friend, Y/n!”

“Mhm. He’s also a damn good fuck.”

“I don’t need to know that!”

“Why not? You seem to enjoy fucking your friends, no?” You shrug, stretching out across his bed without a single care. “Maybe you ought to add Matty to your hook up rotation.”

“Matty?”

“Yeah? I’ve got nicknames for all my partners, Teddy-Bear.”

“All?!” Theo splutters. “Well- well, tell me this. Does he even satisfy you? Do you ever think of me when he’s fucking you?”

“He’s the bottom, actually.”

“Wh- huh?”

“He’s the bottom,” you repeat. “Why are you shocked? You’re well aware I’m a switch, Theo. And everyone knows that Mattheo is a Bottom-with-a-capital-B.”

A flame of white-hot jealousy heats up Theo’s skin. He grits his teeth in barely-restrained anger; it’s as if just saying the wrong thing right now would cause him to snap and go hunt down Riddle to put his head on a pike.

“I could be your Bottom-with-a-capital-B. You don’t need Riddle. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Got that?”

You snort. “No offense, Teddy, but I couldn’t see you bottoming in a million years. You’re my top hook up. I’ve got bottom hook ups so that you don’t have to do that.”

He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe it’s high time you teach me how to bottom then. I don’t want you seeing other people. Especially if it’s just because they give you something I’m too chicken to.”

You blink. “Huh. That’s some weirdly endearing possessive dedication, love.”

“I aim to please,” he says dryly, those unnervingly dead eyes of his seeming like they could see inside your soul when he stares at you.

You consider the offer before a wicked grin slowly spreads across your face. “I bet you do, darling.”

~~~

"Sh-shit! Fuck! Y-Y/n, I-"

“You gonna cum, pretty boy? Hm? Already?” He whimpers and nods frantically, his fingers scrabbling for hold on your shoulders and leaving stinging nail-bitten marks across your back.

Your teasing relents a bit at the sight of his blissed-out expression. Theo’s mouth hangs open in ecstasy, his eyes shut tightly and his back arching up from the mattress.

You groan at the sight of him splayed out under you. You grip his cock, reveling in his whimpers, and quickly start jacking him off in time to your thrusts. “C’mon, baby. You can do it. Be a good boy for me.”

His entire body stiffens as he cums with a moan that would make even a Muggle porn star blush.

You groan and start to slow down, but before you can fully pull out, he locks his knees around your hips to keep you in place.

"D-don't you fucking dare. More.”

“More?” You tease gently, hesitant to continue despite his request. “What a fucking slut you are, Teddy-Bear. Insatiable.”

He growls at your hesitance, far too impatient for that kind of bullshit.

He grips your shoulders, his knees tightening around your hips again as he uses all of that hot boy quidditch strength to roll you both over.

You let out a tiny yelp of surprise as he flips you onto your back. He whimpers loudly and moans at the shift in position, having to tuck his face into your neck for a moment while he collects himself.

Your hand moves up to comb your fingers through his hair, but he knocks it away before you can.

He sits up, supporting his weight with his hands flat on your chest, and takes a shaky breath at the shift of positions. “Want you t’ cum too.”

Your hands find his hips and grip them firmly, your breath becoming uneven as he starts to grind back and forth.

You help him raise himself up then lower his body again, listening to his sweet moans. As he finds a steady rhythm, you watch as his thighs begin to tremble.

“Merlin- I’ll never complain about you getting tired while riding me ever again. This is a fucking workout.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re not on the quidditch team for nothing.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

His face darkens.

Maybe he just doesn’t like me bringing up his teammates while we’re literally fucking, you consider. Maybe he-

“How good of a fuck is Riddle anyways, huh? Could he ever ride you like this?”

Ah.

Fuck.

Mattheo’s on the quidditch team as well.

Theo starts moving with passion, roughly slamming down on you. “I asked you a question.”

“G-god- Theo!” You gasp, caught off guard by the sudden influx of sensations.

“Answer me.”

You whine and scratch your short fingernails over his abs, marveling at the pink and red lines that bloom at the surface a half-second later. “C-could never be as good as you, love. Shit- you’re perfect.”

He shivers at the sensation and grins slyly. “Perfect, huh?”

“Perfect,” you repeat, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a slow kiss.

He sighs against your lips, returning the kiss. The sweet moment is cut off by you suddenly jerking your hips up into him and cursing loudly.

“Fuck- you feel so fucking good, babe-”

He gasps and his fingers claw frantically at your shoulders for any kind of support. “Merlin- I’m gonna-”

You watch as Theo’s second orgasm hits him and he goes practically boneless, slumping over on top of you.

He’s spasming around you like mad, and you can’t help but moan loudly when you cum just seconds later.

You both lay there in silence for a moment, trying to catch your breaths. Theo slowly eases himself off of your dick and rolls over to lay beside you.

“What‘s the final verdict?” You grin cheekily after a moment. “You a pillow prince now or nah?”

“Mmm…nah. I think I can settle for the label of switch though.”

“Aha! Welcome to the dark side!”

“Yeah, yeah. Shush. Now, roll over, I’m on top this time.”

~~~

“I heard you’re going steady with someone now.”

“Mm…mhm,” Theo hums an affirmative around the cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupped around the flame of his lighter as he lit it.

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

“Your ex-fuckbuddy.”

“Which one?”

“Y/n.”

Mattheo’s brow furrows. “Y/n? Y/n and I have never slept together.”

Theo suddenly launches into a coughing fit as he chokes on his lungful of smoke. “What?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. I’d hit that in a heartbeat if he offered. But, I’m also like ninety percent sure that you’d kill me if I did that, and I rather enjoy being not-murdered, believe it or not. He is incredibly hot though.”

Theo just stared, his mouth hanging open.

You never slept with Mattheo?

What?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• standalone!! •

i will not be writing a part two!!

[teapartyprincess4two]

your writing is sooo good! i NEED a johnnie smut omg please write one💞

Monster- J. Guilbert

pairing: Extrovert!reader x Shy!Johnnie

classification: SMUT w/ a plot

inspiration: request^^, Monster by Lady Gaga

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of y/n, dom!Johnnie (kinda), “slut,” alcohol use, slight cursing, Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

—

Johnnie’s been watching you all night, but he’s waiting for the alcohol to settle into his bloodstream before he finally walks up to you. You sit at the bar in a black, backless dress that allows a few of your tattoos to peak through. Bouncy curls are swept onto your shoulder, framing one side of your face as you chat with the bartender.

“Gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna make a move?” Jake nudges Johnnie’s shoulder.

Nights out like this are common for the pair, especially when living a fast paced life in the city of Los Angeles. When they’re not filming or editing, they’re usually out getting drunk, and they’ve managed to creat regular rotation of bars.

Today they find themselves at the Magic 8 Ball, the least crowded bar in L.A on a Friday night. No matter what unfamiliar faces that fill this place, though, yours is always constant. Every Friday, without fail, you saunter in and take a seat at the bar.

Johnnie can tell, just from watching you, that you’re an extrovert. You never seem to stay at the bar, you always wander onto the dance floor and lure a random stranger in for a quick bop around the room.

That’s what intimidates him, because as an introvert he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.

“I’m not staring,” Johnnie quips quickly, taking a swig of whatever alcoholic mixture swirls in his glass. He hisses as the liquid goes down.

If it were just Jake and Johnnie, the conversation would’ve died there. But tonight Tara joined them and she isn’t so adamant on letting the topic go.

“You should invite her to sit with us! You never know what could happen,” she prods teasing fingers into Johnnie’s sides, “plus she looks nice! I need a girlfriend to hang out with!”

“Johnnie needs a girlfriend, Tara. Not you,” Jake jokes. Johnnie rolls is eyes, scooting away from Tara as her fingers continue digging into his sides.

“I’ve had a girlfriend,” Johnnie replies, eyes darting back to where you sit at the bar.

“Yeah, had,” Jake says.

“It’s just hard to—“

“ALRIGHT! Enough!” Tara interrupts Johnnie mid sentence, slamming her hands onto the table as she stands up. “If you won’t make a move, I will,” she says, shimmying out of the booth.

Johnnie’s eyes are blown open in shock. He tries grabbing Tara before she can get too far, but she’s small and sneaky.

“That’s one way to do it,” Jake laughs, watching in amusement as his girlfriend does what his best friend doesn’t have the balls to do.

Johnnie, on the other hand, watches in horror.

There you are, sipping on your drink and chatting with the bartender, blissfully unaware of Tara’s approaching figure.

Tara sits at the bar, taking the seat directly next to yours. She interrupts your conversation with the bartender to order two drinks, one for you and one for her, before swiftly turning her attention to you with a warm smile.

Johnnie can’t bear to watch, but he also can’t look away.

You seem to like Tara, because you’re quick to engage in conversation with her. In the matter of seconds Tara has managed to learn your name, your favorite drink, and even your favorite song (it’s the one that plays over the club speakers).

“Oh God they’re coming,” Johnnie whisper shouts, trying to look casual. Tara’s arm is looped with yours as she leads you to their table, an accomplished look painting her face.

“What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?! Fuck!”

“Just act casual. Don’t be weird— Oh fuck! Just shut up!” for some reason Jake finds himself just as nervous as Johnnie. Maybe he was just being empathetic, but they both scramble to get themselves together.

“Don’t be weird? What the fuck does that—”

Johnnie can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as Tara reaches the booth she’s interrupting him. “Guys. This is Y/n, my new friend,” she gestures towards you, “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Jake and this is our friend Johnnie.”

The moment Tara says your name it’s engraved in Johnnie’s mind. He’s already in love.

Your smile is so big it could light up the room. You extend a hand to the two, immediately introducing yourself and falling into the booth next to Johnnie.

His heart is pounding and his ears are red hot with embarrassment.

“Well, while you two get acquainted, Jake and I are gonna go get drunk,” Tara says, pulling Jake out of the booth before he can get any more comfortable than he already is. She shoots Johnnie a wink before sending you a small wave, leading a confused Jake into the crowd of people.

“She’s nice. I like her,” you comment, watching until the couple disappears. “She’s… something,” Johnnie coughs, he’s so unbelievably awkward.

You chuckle, mostly because you think he’s cute and you find his fiddly personality amusing.

“Johnnie, huh? I had a friend named Johnnie once,” you say, attempting to make conversation. Your manicured nails tap against you glass cup, silver hoop earrings reflecting the strobing lights as you try catching his gaze.

“Bet he didn’t look like this though,” Johnnie replies, clearly referring to his all black attire.

“Hmmm, no. He definitely didn’t,” you giggle. You take a sip from your drink, a lipstick stain remaining once you place the cup back onto the table. Johnnie wonders what it’d feel like to kiss you.

“You’re much cuter,” you continue. Johnnie can’t tell if he’s dreaming, were you actually flirting with him?

Maybe it’s the surge of confidence your compliment gives him, or maybe the alcohol finally kicked in, but Johnnie suddenly finds himself being flirtatious.

“So do you flirt with all the Johnnies you know?”

He’s surprised at how fast you quip back, “Nope. Just the cute ones.”

You’ve subconsciously leaned closer to him, your faces dangerously close.

“Okay, so we’ve established that I’m cute,” he smirks. “What else am I?”

You giggle, a sound that Johnnie swears he can listen to for forever.

“Well clearly you’re not shy anymore,” your finger traces the rim of your drink. A drunk smile and sultry eyes lure him in, pulling him close enough for his lip rings to press against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, a wandering hand finding your thigh. You shiver at the sensation. His fingers were ice cold, but they still managed to ignite a fire deep within your core.

“Like this?” you tease, batting your eyelashes.

You never made it a habit of sleeping with strangers, but Johnnie was the sheep in wolves clothing that played innocent until you were close enough to bite.

“I warned you,” his breath fans against your lips one last time before he’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss. It’s the first kiss Johnnie’s had in years which makes it that much more exciting.

Your plump lips chase his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The club is loud, but you’re so immersed in the man in front of you that you forget you’re not the only two people in the room and lose all control.

Johnnie’s hands find your waist, tugging until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls away breathlessly, silently thanking Tara for working her magic once he sees you on top of him.

Your dress rides up slightly, revealing more of your backside than you’d like. The sight earns you a few whistles from bystanders, breaking you from your lustful daze. “Oh shit,” you squeak, trying to scramble off of Johnnie, but his grip is firm enough to keep you in place.

An animalistic, monster-like need has overtaken him and he’s willing to sacrifice his self image to fuck you in front of all these strangers. But he simultaneously doesn’t want anyone else to see you, to enjoy you, the way he’s about to.

“Restroom. Now,” he growls, pinching the soft skin of your ass. You squeal in excitement, allowing the desires of your flesh to cloud your judgement as you hop off of him and wiggle your way out of the booth. You adjust your dress as you wait for Johnnie to follow before taking his hand in yours and leading him towards the restroom. He makes a mental note to let this be the only time you lead him tonight.

Everyone’s watching, yet you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. If anything it excites you more.

You find the restroom quickly, a wave of gratitude washing over you when you realize it’s a single stall. This means you can be as loud as you want, and from the look in Johnnie’s eyes, you can tell you’ll also need the extra room.

He’s quick to lock the door and immediately engulfs your face in his hands, bringing you in for the second heated kiss of the night. Johnnie’s eager and it shows in the way he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

His left hand remains on your face while the other travels down to your ass, squeezing firmly against the material of your dress. A moan escapes your lips, providing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes surprisingly sweet, like pomegranate and pineapple.

He leads you to the sink counter, your bodies bouncing back slightly when they hit the cold marble. “Up,” he commands.

You hop onto the counter, giving him enough room to fit between your legs. Johnnie’s erection presses against your inner thigh, but he gives you no time to comment on it before his lips are back on yours.

Johnnie’s hand’s find your boobs, massaging your mounds slowly as he deepens the kiss. “More,” you murmur against the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you. He smirks against your mouth at your neediness.

“So needy.” He pulls your head back, providing him with perfect access to your neck. Sloppy, open mouth kisses trail from your jawline down to your exposed collarbone. Each one gives you goosebumps.

“Fuck me please,” you whimper, feeling your panties become more soaked by the second. “So polite,” he teases, sucking on your skin until it bruises.

The rough material of his jeans comes in contact with your clothed pussy. He dry humps you just to hear the strained moans that escape your lips.

Finally, when you rut back, he decides he’s teased you enough. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, exposing the wet underwear that he pushes to the side.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, kneeling in front of you to get a better view. He’s in love. What he wants to do is eat you out, but there’s no time for that in a club as crowded as this. Especially not when there’s only one restroom.

You watch in awe as he presses a quick kiss on your bundle of nerves, immediately licking his lips right after. “Yummy,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another hungry kiss.

Your hands find his belt, unbuckling it with fervor and tugging at his belt loop to bring him back in to you. He gets the message and helps you in unbuttoning his skin-tight jeans. Your forehead is flush against his as you watch his dick spring up, it bobs back and forth as you take in the sheer size.

“Holy fuck,” your voice is full of exasperation. How was that meant to fit inside of you?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done this in a long time, but Johnnie suddenly feels self conscious. He hides his face in your neck before you can notice how red it becomes, but you’re quick to push his shoulders back.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Where’d that monster go?” you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. His dick twitches and cries precum at the reassurance.

He pulls you back in for a kiss, feeling confident once again. He lines himself up tentatively with your entrance, rubbing the tip along your folds before slowly pushing himself in.

Your eyes are screwed shut, small tears forming at the corners as you struggle to adjust to the stretch. “Fuck Johnnie, wait,” you say, pushing against his stomach slightly. Suddenly you’re not sure you want him to fuck you dumb, his size alone was enough to have you seeing stars.

Your words fall on deaf ears, though, and before you know it he’s pushed himself all the way in. You gasp, throwing your head back against the bathroom mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you try to hold him in place knowing the longer you keep him there, the more time you’ll have to adjust.

It’s no use though, because he begins thrusting into you at a relentless, unforgiving pace. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix every time his hips slam into yours.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he grunts, strong hands gripping your waist so he can fuck into you even faster. You whimper at the sensation, his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Just like that, Johnnie. So good,” you egg him on, holding onto his neck for support. He hasn’t slowed his pace, instead moving one hand from your hips down to your throbbing clit.

Your legs instinctively push together, but his body moves them back into their previous position as he continues. “Such a slut,” he purrs, watching the euphoric look that paints your face when he rubs his thumb against your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Such a slut,” you’re drunk on dick, babbling whatever will get you closer to your pending release.

“My slut?” he asks, using the hand that was previously gripping your waist to take a firm hold of your face. Your eyes lock with his, taking notice of the way lust clouds his pupils. “All yours,” you whisper.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Your tongues collide in a heated mixture of moans and whimpers. All the while he continues pounding into you and rubbing circles on your clit.

One particularly hard thrust has you dumb, a string of curse words and chants of his name being the only thing you can manage to say. “C’mon baby, c’mon,” he growls, sloppily kissing you as he feels his climax approaching.

“Johnnie!”

Your walls flutter around him, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your hair falls in front of your face and you find yourself holding Johnnie’s wrist, pushing his hand away as it continues working on your clit. “Almost there,” he moans, pulling his hand away to focus his attention on fucking you.

You’re sensitive. You’re whimpering. You’re so fucked out that it’s overstimulating.

“Cum for me, handsome,” you moan, still coming down from your own high. He continues rutting his hips into you, chasing his release until finally it washes over him.

Hot spurts of cum paint your insides, lazy hips rolling against you. He’s panting from above you, hands falling from your body and latching onto the counter for support.

“Fuck that was… that was amazing,” Johnnie says, pulling out of you reluctantly.

He knows the sooner he pulls out and you two get dressed, the quicker you’ll become strangers. And that’s terrifying.

“You were amazing,” you reply, using your finger to pull his pensive gaze back towards you by his chin.

“Don’t tell me it’s a one and done,” you pout, “I was hoping to have more moments like that.”

Johnnie still stands between your legs, his limp dick resting on your exposed thighs. He lights up at your suggestion. His hands have opted for a much softer hold on your hips, thumbs massaging your skin. He knows he was rough, but he couldn’t help it.

“I mean— I’d like to— we could— fuck I’m so bad at this,” he stutters, suddenly reverting back to his natural, awkward state.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, pecking his nose and hopping off the counter. His ears flush red again.

“How about we get cleaned up and then we’ll worry about the rest later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” a big goofy smile adorns his face. His rosy cheeks make you wanna pinch him and gush over how cute he looks.

“Weren’t you just fucking my brains out a second ago?” you tease, only making him more flustered.

“I’m shy, I can’t help it.”

“Not that shy apparently,” you pull him in for one more kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Tara the goat, the best wingwoman ever!

I locked in. Thank you for ur kind words bby, I LUV U!

Enjoy 🎱😜 - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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[aestheticaltcow]

Boyfriend Treatment

MDNI 18+ Another addition to the cigarettes multiverse The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

“Carmen, I don’t like ultimatums,” you said, rolling your eyes as you contemplated walking out the door to prove to yourself that Carmy was bluffing. He crossed his arms over his chest, “You like my cock.” he said, licking his lips.

You wanted to say yes. Carmy was your favorite out of your rotation. He’d always make sure you came when the two of you hooked up, even if it was a backseat quickie between dinner prep and service. He brought you soup the last time you were sick and stayed to keep you company even though he didn’t get his dick wet. When you accidentally sent him a TikTok intended for a different text chain, he started sending you stupid TikToks daily. When your conversations shifted from ‘you up?’ to actual conversations, you felt yourself getting too attached to him.

Carmy stepped forward, making you step back and bump into the counter that separated his kitchen and living room. Carmy let his arms fall to his side before reaching out to grab your hips, “Yes or no?” he whispered as he ducked down to kiss your jaw. You hummed in response and reached toward the button on his jeans, “You gonna do the same?” you sighed as Carmy’s teeth grazed your skin.  Carmy smirked against your skin and nodded softly as you undid the button on his jeans.“Yes, Carmy. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

You squealed when Carmy suddenly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, “Put me down, Carmy!” you laughed as he carried you toward his bedroom. Carmy chuckled as he smacked your ass, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll put you down.” he reassured before using his foot to open his bedroom door. Carmy set you on his bed and hovered above you. Your hands went back to his pants, “Someone’s eager.” Carmy muttered as he pressed his lips to your throat.

Clothes were shed and Carmy found home between your legs. He looked up at you while he dragged his tongue through your folds slurping your slick before sucking on your clit and slipping a finger into your core. Your moans are music to his ears as he adds another finger. He pulled his mouth away from your clit and pumped his fingers at a steady rhythm as he watched your face contort in pleasure. Carmy leaned forward to kiss you. You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled him closer to you. Carmy pushed his tongue into your mouth and pulled his fingers out of you making you whimper. 

“Fuck- this pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” Carmy groaned as he thrust into you. His movements were met with your breathy moans. You closed your eyes and moved your hands to massage your breasts. Carmy’s mind went blank as he watched you mewl under him. He pressed his forehead to yours as one of his hands went to rub small tight circles on your clit as he hungrily kissed you.

You clutched at the sheets, and your toes curled as your orgasm crashed over you. Carmy continued fucking into you. “Fuck Carmy!” you screamed as you sunk into his mattress. He responded by pounding into you before pulling out to release on your stomach. Carmy hovered over you for a moment before collapsing next to you to catch his breath. 

“Wanna take a shower together?” Carmy asked as he passed you his shirt to clean your stomach. You nodded and wiped away his cum before getting up to throw his shirt into the hamper. Carmy walked around his bed and put his hands on your hips. He pulled you closer to him before leaning in to kiss your neck, “Ready for round two already?” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Carmy scoffed playfully, “Just happy.” he mumbled.

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[shirefantasies]

Hii, I absolutely love your work!! 💗 Could I please request headcannons about the characters from The Hobbit and sleeping positions or something about how they like to relax? <3

Uhhhh hell yeah this is so cute 🥺🖤

The Hobbit Characters' Favorite Sleeping Position

Balin

He likes to lay by your side, either facing each other or otherwise right up against you, your back to him as he draws circles with his hand upon your back or arm. Encouraging and relaxing you as you speak, whether it be opening up about your day or sharing some deep thought. As you drift off, Balin maintains a loose hold, knowing you are safe together.

Dwalin

Keeps to his side…at least at first. The moment you pout or reach to him he acquiesces. Acting like he is accepting for your benefit only to wrap his arms around you and clutch you to his chest like he’ll die before he loses you. Tends to fall asleep with his head lolling onto your shoulder due to this position, his legs sprawled out wherever they land, sometimes with one thrown over your sleeping form. Sometimes you will even awaken with his nose nuzzled into your neck and bear tickling any exposed skin.

Thorin

I have two words for you: big spoon. Specifically Thorin will be such. He wants nothing more than to grant you a feeling of care, of presiding over you in a loving way rather than his domineering presence can imply. In truth, being your comfort is everything, and of course he wants to feel you there, to be able to open his eyes and receive an immediate answer why if he is to sense you slipping away.

Oin

In terms of how he cuddles with you, it will be on the loose side, your arms draped over his side as you rest rather than tightly clinging or, in Oin’s words, “crushing the life out o’ me”. The habit you will come to discover, however? Oin very much likes being your little spoon. As much time as he spends caring for others, there is a part of him that wants to be cared for and held but feels too ashamed to ask about, at least at first. Please help him feel cared for!

Gloin

Rarely goes to sleep lightly, be it following a bit of hanky-panky or simply the bit of playful wrestling that ensues if you try to adopt the position of big spoon. Unless of course Gloin is quite tired, in which case you may find him just flopping right over on his back, half atop you but fully vulnerable to your hold!

Bifur

Cuddling too close can feel suffocating to him, especially after all he has been through and the nightmares he sometimes has. However, just because he does not want to entrap you does not mean that Bifur refuses your touch. He finds great comfort in holding your hand as he drifts off, squeezing it if he wakes up in the night. The feeling of your head upon his shoulder or leaned against his is absolute heaven to Bifur.

Bofur

Arms snaking about your waist, Bofur pulls you into his lap before tumbling your joined bodies onto the bed, eventually rotating to face you. His legs weave with your own into the most wonderful mess, radiating with the warmth of your love and every good night kiss. Hooks you in with that leg-lock to pull you even closer against his chest.

Bombur

Cuddling is his favorite thing in the world! Bombur is an expert at it, whether it is being your living blanket or sharing your space in his favorite way, facing you. Nuzzling his nose against yours and peering into your eyes to watch them close and open in fading wake. Sandwiches one of your legs in his, an accidental trap of love, but he just loves to hold you close!

Dori

Lays right by your side, your heads brushing together so he can rub his cheek against yours and talk and listen until you both fall asleep. Sometimes holding hands, others simply loosely draped, limbs thrown wherever they please. You usually end up falling asleep half on top of Dori, head lolling onto his shoulder or chest. He usually wakes up first and subsequently wakes you up with a kiss to the top of your head.

Nori

If you ask Nori, the best way to cuddle is the best way to do anything: with him on top of you! What better than to be able to look down upon you, to kiss you and straddle you on your way off to dreamland? To see directly the effects of any attempts at flustering you staring him in the face quite literally. One hand of his might snake about your waist and give your hip an affectionate squeeze as he nuzzles down into you, whispering you sweet nothings into sleep.

Ori

He absolutely adores cuddling and falling asleep facing each other, his arms gently thrown around you. Rubs his nose against yours as you both drift off, claiming one last sleepy kiss. If you tumble off into dreams first Ori will watch you with a smile, wishing for his last sight of the day to always be of your peaceful expression.

Fili

Caring, giving, protecting Fili wants to hold you. His natural position when he lays by your side is to be your big spoon, holding you flush against him. To have you in his arms is the greatest gift Fili could ask for, security in the highest capacity when he knows you are close to him, close enough to feel his heartbeat and the fanning of his breath upon you and the kisses he places upon your head, neck, shoulders as your eyes flutter shut.

Kili

Mischievously tugs you into bed, pulling you into his favorite position so you are draped atop his chest. With you there, Kili melts at the sight of your head lain over his heart, soothed by its beat. He presses kisses to the crown of it during pre-sleep cuddles, one hand rubbing your back. Up and down the warm softness slides as dreams begin to take you both, the rhythm of synchronizing heartbeats carrying you off.

Bilbo

Bilbo's favorite way to cuddle or go to sleep with you is absolutely as your little spoon! The feeling of snuggling up in your arms is utter bliss, his body melting like butter as he relaxes against you. If you throw a leg over him, you can feel him stiffen in surprise before relaxing once more and turning his head to give you a shy but wide smile. Before sleep takes him, he loves to reach up and hold the hands you've wrapped around him, affectionately running them along yours.

Thranduil

Warning: a bit of a bed hog. At least in the sense that his limbs sprawl out where they please, draping themselves wherever is most comfortable. Which more often than not will involve some part of your body. Thranduil's reaching arms tend to find purchase, for example, when his hand finds your hair to stroke or tangle his fingers in. One of his legs as they stretch and lounge will likely end up beneath yours.

Feren

Adores lying side by side, some space for each of your bodies, but with your hands joined between them. Fingers intertwined like an anchor, a way to show your love even as you fade away into the night. Feren also feels his heartbeat speed when you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, reaching up to stroke your hair before sleep overtakes him.

Bard

Tends to face the opposite direction as you, laying upon his side. However, peek at him when you butt against him, when you wrap an arm over him and feel his hand grip yours and you will see the smile spreading across Bard's face. A sight sure to speed the rhythm of the heartbeat he loves to feel pressed against him.

Beorn

Not used to cuddling at all and quite a stiff sleeper. Once he is comfortable with you, though, that safeguarding streak of Beorn's emerges. Though he does not tend to cuddle to sleep unless you ask for it, peace flows through his whole being when you curl at his side, his form still straight but one arm extended out that much further to rest along your back, a hand at the small of it.

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