Hmm…

i am.. unwell.

i love arm

I have a full length armando x reader fic in the works rn… please tell me someone is gonna wanna read it 😭

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

ANGEL’S NAVIGATION STATION

　☆ Angel

☆ she/her, 19

　☆ (n)sfw + (multifandom × reader writer) // 18+ MDNI (Please i beg)

　☆ links - rules / masterlist / tags

* ┉ˏ͛ ༝̩̩̥͙ ⑅͚˚　　 ҉　　⑅͚˚ ͛༝̩̩̥͙ ˎ┉

•requests : open

•asks : open

• thirsts: open

* ┉ˏ͛ ༝̩̩̥͙ ⑅͚˚. 🌊　　 🌺 🐚　　⑅͚˚ ͛༝̩̩̥͙ ˎ┉

i watched deadpool and wolverine last night at my university… let’s just say if the people in the room couldn’t already tell i was fatherless they sure as hell can now

Me:

What is it with me and angry men?

WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH

felix catton x fem!reader

nsfw 18+ MDNI

hear me out…

im convinced felix eats pussy like it’s a paying job (not that he needs one but you get my point). he gets so invested in your taste and how you feel against his tongue. he has his head buried deep between your thighs, tongue lapping at your sweet cunt so very slowly, while his head rests dreamily against your thigh. he looks up at you, so lovestruck, taking you in like you’re an expensive delicacy. the soft rays of the fresh, morning sun peaking through the curtains, illuminating the curves and contours of his broad shoulders as the muscles tense and relax as he devotes everything that he is to your pleasure.

or he’ll sit you down on his face, the thick, soft plush of your thighs caging him beneath you as you ride his face, clit bumping his nose every few seconds, the pleasure almost too much. if you so much as look down at him through those beautiful eyes of yours, just know that he will moan a quiet “fuck” into the warmth of your cunt, just because of the eye contact. there’s something so intense and intimate about eye contact while he pleases you that spurs him on and makes him all the more eager to make you cum. if you’re worried about hurting him because you’re “too heavy”, best throw that idea out the window because best believe he’s pulling you down so he can feel your whole body weight on him. he feels closest to you this way, he wants to feel you and no silly little insecurities will stop him from doing so.

or maybe he has you bent over the bathroom sink, your back arched, his hand trailing down the dip in your spine. his faced snugly nestled between your ass cheeks, tongue working overtime to make sure you are quivering above him, thighs shaking with pleasure. his hands spreading you apart, your full, dripping pussy on show for him and that is enough to make him ravenous.

he’s so utterly enthralled by you, so deeply and irrevocably in love (dare i say obsessed ) with you that he can’t help himself. he has to taste you. if there’s ever a day that he refuses to nip and suck at your pussy just know that the universe is out of balance because there’s nothing he loves more. hell he could (and definitely has) cum in his pants like a desperate teenager all just from tasting your cum on his lips as he curls his tongue inside you, his sweet, sweet girl. you’re like a drug to him, and to say he’s addicted is an understatement. he craves you all hours of the day, every day of the week. he (if it’s possible) will go down on you before fucking you and after, the way you moan out in overstimulation like music to his ears, a song so beautiful he can’t get enough. he just loves eating you pussy and he’ll be damned if he ever passes up the opportunity to taste you. because “eating your sweet pussy is like breathing.” and he can’t live without it.

that is all.

it has not been… its day 6.. and its my birthday.

I hope november is kind to all of us

I NEED to bake bread with him istg

Come Morning Light

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta spend a lazy day together, baking bread and drawing. takes place after first games before cf

After learning from Effie that you had a rare day off, you made your way over to Peeta’s house in the Victors Village. Things had been weird between you since returning from the games and you wanted a chance to spend some time with him to settle things. You knocked on his door and when you found it open, you made your way inside.

“Oh. Hey.” He smiled when you found him in his kitchen.

“Hey. Did I hear correctly that we actually have the day off?”

“We do. And Effie made it very clear we’re not getting another one anytime soon. So we better enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna spend it?” You asked as you leaned against his kitchen table.

“I’m just gonna bake some bread and watch the rain. All boring stuff.” Peeta said with a soft smile. Peeta thought you would leave after that, but you didn’t budge.

“Why? What were you gonna do?” He asked curiously.

“Bother you.” You shrugged with a coy smile. Peeta returned the smile when he realized you wanted to hang out but didn’t know how to ask.

“Impossible. You never bother me.” He declared.

“Never? Even after all the times I’ve woken you up screaming?”

“No. Because when I hear screaming, I know that means I get to hold you. So no, you’re never a bother.” Peeta said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. You looked down to hide the smile that he always managed to put on your face. He could never know how much you missed that reassurance that he would always be there for you when you had your nightmares.

“You know, Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lives and never deserve you.” You told him.

“Oh, did he?” Peeta smirked and folded his arms.

“I think it may have been one of the rare times he was right about something.” You said playfully. Peeta felt ecstatic to hear you say this, but played it cool.

“Well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He replied. You smiled at him before going over to where he had his baking supplies set up.

“So what kind of bread are we making today?” You asked as you picked up his apron. He playfully snatched it from you and tied it around it waist. You pretended to be offended for a second, but he was quick to provide you with a matching apron. You didn’t know why he had two if he lived alone, but you didn’t question it. You just held out hope that maybe it was for you.

“I’m making challah bread. You can just sit there and look pretty.” Peeta nodded towards his kitchen table as he tied your apron around your waist.

“Peeta, I won the Hunger Games with nothing but a bow and some berries. What makes you think I can’t make bread?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you can’t make bread.” He insisted. “And I know that because before you win the game, you fed me disgusting soup.”

“You said you liked my cave soup.” You gasped.

“I was trying to spare your feelings.” He said with a cheeky smile. You pretended to be offended again and threw some flour at his face.

“Wow, Peeta. Next time you get injured, don’t come to me for help.”

“Well I definitely won’t come to you for food.” He said out of the corner of his mouth. You gasped and tried to throw more flour at him but he caught your wrist and spun you around. You smiled at the gesture before playfully shoving him away.

“Please let me help. I’ll do better then the cave soup. I promise.”

“Fine. You can mix this.” Peeta said as he poured two cups of something into a mixing bowl and handed it to you. You smiled proudly and mixed the contents of the bowl with a wooden spatula.

“Is this important? Am I being helpful?” You asked as you mixed.

“No. That was just two cups of flour. You didn’t actually mix anything.” Peeta admitted. You looked up at him in surprise and he was armed and ready with a handful of flour. He tossed it at your face and laughed as you coughed.

“Peeta. Let me help.” You whined as you cleaned your face.

“Just leave the baking to the baker, all right? I don’t show up in the woods and try to hunt.” He teased as he folded some eggs into his dough.

You watched him expertly mix the dough until a light and fluffy consistency was left in the bowl. You couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, moving as if with muscle memory. To get a better look, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. Peeta stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into you.

“There’s no cameras in here, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” He said quietly. You were surprised by this comment and pressed your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not pretending anything.” You told him. “I just wanted to hold you.”

“So you’re not acting? You really want to help me bake bread?” Peeta asked skeptically as he turned around in your arms. You toyed with the strings of his apron for a second before looking up into his eyes.

“I really do.” You answered honestly. “We never get to do anything normal together. I just wanted one day where we can just be us.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while as he tried to decide whether he should believe you or not. He so badly wanted to, but could never fully let his guard down around you after you revealed the way you acted in the first games was partially an act.

“Okay. Come here. We have to knead the bread.” Peeta said once he decided he was satisfied with your answer. He pulled you by the hand and placed you in front of him before wrapping both arms around you.

“Oh no.” You chuckled dryly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Oh yes. I’m a romantic. This is how we teach.” Peeta said as he put his hands over yours and began to knead the bread. You had seen this scene play out in old romantic movies that sometimes played on your TV and you knew Peeta must’ve seen them too. It was stupid, but it made you feel good inside.

“Do you teach everyone to knead bread like this?” You looked over your shoulder to question him.

“I don’t exactly go around teaching people how to make bread.” Peeta chuckled.

“Oh. I must be special then.” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him over your shoulder. He was so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent tingles down your spine.

“Must be.” Peeta mumbled in your ear. You gulped and felt your face heat up, feeling grateful Peeta was behind you so he couldn’t see what he was doing to you. He continued to use his strong hands to make yours knead the bread.

“I hate the way this feels.” You said to break the silence.

“Then you’re gonna hate to hear that we have to do this for at least ten minutes.” Peeta laughed as you groaned.

“Peeta.” You whined but didn’t try to stop.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay and make bread. You could’ve run off into the forest to hunt with Gale, but you chose to spend your day off with me.” He reminded you.

“You’re right. I did.” You agreed with him as you squished the bread between your fingers.

“Where is Gale, anyway?” Peeta asked, and you could tell his intentions no matter how cool he tried to play it. He wanted to know if you were only with him today because Gale was busy.

“Probably at the Hob or something.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t know where he is? Aren’t you guys always together?”

“Not always. I’m with you.” You said and looked over your shoulder at him. Peeta smiled timidly as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re with me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I’m with you.” You smiled at him before returned your attention to the bread.

“I can’t help but wonder for how long.” Peeta said softly. There was no self-pity in his voice, just an honest expression. You stared into the dough and felt guilty pile up in your stomach.

“I know it’s confusing. I know I’m confusing. I wish I had more answers to give you.” You said quietly without looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m happy just doing this.” Peeta answered honestly.

“So am I.” You realized and leaned back into him.

You continued to knead the bread in comfortable silence as a gentle rain patter hit the windows. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, peace only Peeta could give you.

“Is it done yet because it’s seriously grossing me out.” You said after a minute of the silence.

“It’s done.” Peeta chuckled. “You’re free.”

You slipped your hands out of his and quickly ran to the sink to rinse them.

“Ew, ew, ew.” You grimaced as you cleaned your hands. “That was grosser than when I had to clean out your leg wound.”

“Really? This is more disgusting than that?” Peeta laughed in surprise.

“Yes. I don’t know how you do it.” You stuck your tongue out as you dried your hands.

“I’m a baker. It’s my passion. I don’t know how you skin animals and don’t throw up.” Peeta remarked as he tossed the dough around a little and worked his hands into it. You shamelessly watched him do this for a second before snapping out of it.

“I’m a hunter. It’s my passion.” You humored him. Peeta looked at you fondly as he let out a laugh.

“You’re funny when you want to be.” He remarked as he put the loaf in the oven.

“Not you, though. You’re always funny. Even in the most life threatening situations, you’ve still made me laugh. And nobody can make me laugh.”

“I’ve noticed that. That nobody else can do it. Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be the one who can.” He admitted as he stared at you with that ever present fondness.

“Well it works.” You shrugged and held his gaze. You stared at each other for a moment before looking away in embarrassment.

“So how long does that bake for?” You asked him.

“30 minutes. Then we test it to see if it’s risen.”

“Hm. What should we do for the next 30 minutes?”

“Actually, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Peeta said with a timid smile.

“Uh oh. What’s that?” You asked coyly.

“Draw you. If that’s okay.”

“Haven’t you drawn me before?” You asked, knowing you’d caught glimpses of his sketches every now and then.

“Yes. But they’re all side profiles because I draw you when you aren’t looking. I want one of you facing front.”

“Okay.” You agreed as your face heated up from the request. Peeta grinned and went to grab his sketchbook as you sat on his couch. You felt the almost untouched furniture and felt sad that he lived in this great big house all by himself. When he came back, he positioned himself across from you and looked up eagerly.

“How should I pose?” You asked and raised your arms in a dramatic way you’d seen people in The Capital pose.

“Just relax. Sit how you would normally sit.” Peeta chuckled and began to sketch out your face.

“Well I don’t remember how to do that anymore.” You realized as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

“Then just pick a way to sit and stay like that.” Peeta laughed again. You obliged and relaxed into his couch as you stared at him. He sketched the outline of your head while you studied his face closely. The sun was beginning to dim below the horizon, making Peeta’s foyer his favorite color, a soft orange. The way the light hit him made his blonde hair and eyelashes appear golden.

“Your eyelashes are so blond.” You commented without thinking.

“What?” Peeta looked up as his entire face turned red.

“I’ve never noticed that before. They’re so blond and shiny. They look almost golden from here. Like Effie’s hair.”

“This place gets really good lighting. It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows that.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Now you’re one of two who knows.” You replied, making his smile go from sad to lovelorn.

“That’s true.” He said softly. You exchanged a smile before he went back to drawing you. You felt like you were spying on him from his closely you were watching him but you never got to see him this peaceful. You studied the way his hands moved around his sketchbook and admired how they somehow knew exactly where to go.

“What are you staring at?” Peeta asked, catching you in the act. You gulped and knew you were caught, so you just came clean.

“Your hands.” You admitted and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, face still in a rose blush.

“I can’t talk. I’m posing.” You said in an attempt to change the subject with a joke.

“You’re all done posing, actually. Come take a look.” Peeta said. You got up from your couch and leaned over him to look at what he had drawn. On his sketch pad was a perfect little charcoal drawing of you. You hadn’t posed for him yet he managed to perfectly capture your most neutral expression. You knew he most likely drew it from memory since you were definitely no help while posing.

“Peeta. That’s beautiful.” You gasped and looked into his eyes. Peeta looked up at you as you leaned over him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah. You are.” He spoke softly. You looked into Peeta’s eyes before letting your gaze drop down to his lips. Before you could psych yourself out, you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips had merely brushed his when the timer went off, making you jump at the sound.

“The bread is-“

Peeta cut your sentence off by tilting his chin the rest of the way up to kiss you. He sat up on his knees and slipped a hand behind your head to properly kiss you as the timer continued to go off in the background. When he pulled away, you were left breathless while he moved some hair off your forehead.

“Sorry. I wasn’t about to miss out on that kiss for bread.” Peeta smirked as he got off the couch. You watched him walk back into the kitchen and touched your fingertips to your lips. You were still buzzing from the kiss as you walked into the kitchen.

“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” You smiled politely while Peeta took the bread out of the oven. Once it cooled, you took a knife and went to cut into it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Peeta stopped you.

“Cutting the bread?”

“You can’t just hack into it. There is an art to cutting bread, my dear. Here. Let me show you.” Peeta said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind again.

“Oh boy. Here we go.” You playfully rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“It’s like this. Yeah?” He said into your ear. You stayed silent as you watched his hands work over yours to cut the bread into perfect diagonal slices.

“You staring at my hands again?” He asked suddenly, making you freeze.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He chuckled softly in your ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like them and can’t really explain why.”

“I know the feeling.” He whispered in your ear after a beat of silence. Peeta let go of one of your hands and used it to touch your side braid.

“Your braid is on a different side today.”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” You gulped as he toyed with the end of your braid. His hand moved to your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the side of your neck that your braid wasn’t on. It sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“I like it.” He whispered against your skin and placed another kiss on your neck.

“You noticed that it was different?” You asked as you turned around in his arms.

“I notice everything about you.” Peeta said simply. You looked into his eyes and smiled before taking hand hand. You brought two prices of bread over to his front door and opened it. You sat across from each other and watched the late afternoon rain that drizzled through the dimming sunshine. You bit into the warm bread and listened the rain falling while Peeta just watched you. When you noticed him staring, you gave him a pointed look and nudged his shoe with your foot.

“You know, Effie told me there’s a stove on the train.” You told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can show me how to make cake tomorrow?” You asked, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything you want.”

dw pookie there’s more oliver smut on the way !!!

Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, jealous!Ollie, choking, my terrible grammar 😚

——————————— 💌 ————————————

now we all know that oliver is an obsessive lover. that much is clear. he wants to be with you hell he needs it. it feels like part of him is missing when you’re gone. he can’t stop himself from touching you the minute you walk through his dorm room door. the second you enter the threshold his hands are on you, fingers stroking your cheeks, lips on yours. he just cannot get enough.

if he could crawl inside your ribcage and live by your heart forever he’d do it in a heartbeat. having his thick cock burried deep inside you is the next best thing to him. fucking you raw and deep is intimate in way nothing else is. there’s just something so raw and personal about him being the only person who gets to see you splayed out on his bed, your hands tangled in his hair, your soft eyes looking into the icy blue of his own, all while his cock lays embedded within you.

much like felix, he doesn’t like to share what’s his. he won’t. he likes having you all to himself. and he likes being yours. this causes him to get a little (a lot) jealous when he sees you with other guys. if michael looks at you too long he makes sure to protectively place his hand on your thigh, squeezing ever so gently to let his ‘friend’ know that you’re off limits. does oliver see michael as competition? of course not! but he does know how badly michael wanted to be where he is now, his cock in your tight pussy, ravaging you like it was his birthright. of course he knew that’s how michael felt, because thats how he felt during those first few weeks of university after seeing you for the first time. he felt like a horny high schooler with a crush way out of his league (in his opinion). when you said his named for the first time he could have came in his jeans then and there, you were just so beautiful. so, so beautiful. now you were all his.

i wouldn’t put it past him to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you when you get back to the dorms. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, god he trusts you with his life. he doesn’t trust everyone else. maybe he’s a little insecure but all that goes out the window when he’s driving himself into you, his hand grasping your throat- not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to get the message across- he cock so hard and thick that it feels like he may break you.

he moves his hand up to your cheek lightly tapping to get your attention watching the way your glassy eyes focus on him and only him. good.

“who do you belong to, hmm?” he asks, his thrusts never faltering, his cock so deep inside you, you were sure you could feel it in your stomach. “you” it was barely above a whisper, tears of pure ecstasy flowing down your soft cheeks. he needed to hear it, he needed to feel it. he ceases his thrusts immediately, smiling devilishly at the whine that escapes your kiss bitten lips. “who do you belong to, sweetheart? don’t make me ask again.” his hand is back round your throat, a tighter grip this time. you can barely breathe but it brings you so close to the edge. “You! Oliver. Im yours all yours.” it comes out almost like a prayer, an act of pure devotion and love. it was true. you didn’t want or need anyone else when you had such a beautiful man to wreck you and put you back together again every time. he gives you a smile of satisfaction, it’s almost condescending, but by god does it stir your stomach.

“there’s my good girl.”

taglist 💌: @sydneyyymayyy