#I feel the wind on my face as I run run run from them

[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader reblog #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[graveyardcuddles]

Nectar - Astarion x Pregnant Fem!Reader nsfw One-Shot

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Astarion makes love to his pregnant wife in the sun. That's it, that's the plot.

(also my first time attempting smut).

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, pregnant reader, pregnancy kink, pregnancy sex, breeding kink, oral sex (fem receiving), PiV sex, praise kink, body worship, super light teasing, extremely soft astarion, fluff, ooey-gooey lovey-dovey porn. also vampires can purr now bc I say so.

Word count: ~ 2500

The sweet smell of sun-warmed grass tickles your nose as you stir from your half-sleep. The leaves of the tree you were resting under rustled in the breeze, shimmering filtered sunlight over your resting spot. The warmth of the day had lulled you into a deep state of relaxation, the background melody of birds singing and insects buzzing almost hypnotic. Your upper half was comfortably shadded under the tree while your lower half was basking in the gentle sunlight. A thick blanket had been laid out underneath you, and a few throw pillows from inside had even been brought outside to maximize your comfort. Under your head, at your sides, a couple tucked under your hips and lower back. You needed all the comfort you could get now that you were in your seventh month of pregnancy. The novel you had been reading was now perched on your belly, forgotten about for now. Astarion, meanwhile, was resting in his favorite spot: between your legs.

His head lays at the apex of your thigh, nestled where it met your hip. His cool face was pressed against the swell of your belly - one arm snaked under a plush thigh. His other arm reaches up to cup the side of your belly. He's practically using you as a pillow, but you can't complain. He had asked to cuddled up against you so sweetly - "May I, love? You're just so terribly soft, so lovely..." mumbled into your skin as he climbed into your lap like a cat. You could hardly say "no" after that. His cold body provided a delightful contrast to the summer heat. A palm rests alongside the curve of your stomach, and the fingers of his other hand delicately run up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to dig ever-so-slightly into the abundance of your flesh. You feel one of his pointed ears pressed into the lower curve of your belly, listening to the lifesong coming from within you: The double heartbeats of his wife and baby.

You look down and see the curve of your belly rising and falling gently with your breath, his head tucked up just to the side of your bump. You reach down and pet his hair, fingers winding around his curls. You feel him smiling against you. His hands continue to roam up and down your legs, nose nuzzling into your stomach. One hand wanders down under the short heam of your sundress to gently grope the cheek of your ass. "Ah! Naughty..." You scold him. He responds only with a satisfied hum to your belly. You can't help but indulge him like this, though. He couldn't get enough of your body ever since it started growing to accommodate your little one. It had stared as a point of pride that he had simply managed to get you pregnant at all. But the more you began to show, the more reverent his gaze and touch became. "Only you could make the impossible possible like this, my love. You were always full of surprises," he'd say, hands exploring your new curves. "And I must say this is one of my favorites you've sprung on me thus far." He's always touching you - keeping a hand on the small of your back as you brush your hair in the mirror or coming up behind you to wrap his arms under your belly. The moment any insecurities around your changing body are brought up, he strikes them down immediately. "I forbid you to feel ashamed at how beautifully your body is growing, darling. That's our baby you're growing. You're stunning, my love. A vision."

Astarion was still ever himself as always, though. One morning, you had dragged your tired frame out of bed before him and started padding your way over to the closet when you heard a snort come from under his breath. You turned around to see him watching you from bed, hand pressed over his mouth and failing to contain his laughter. After shooting him a very confused look he managed to compose himself. "Oh, my little love," he said almost apologetically. "You um," he cleared his throat and looked a bit nervous, and perhaps for the first time ever, lost for words. "You have a...a bit of a waddle to your step, darling," he said as diplomaticly as possible as he made his way over to you. You were seriously contemplating throwing the nearest shoe at him when he quickly added, "And it's absolutely adorable," he presses a kiss to your forehead, soothing the fury that was quickly rising up in you. "You're incredible." He held you and cooed sweet nothings in your ear as he wiped away the angry tears. "My little miracle maker, creating life from unlife." He kisses you until you stop sniffling. "The sway of your step just shows how strong you are, my love. Strong enough to carry our precious little dhampir, my brilliant girl." Eventually, after a long massage session, all was forgiven.

A sudden kick elicits a groan from you, and you rub over the sore spot. Astarion shifts and lifts his head from your thigh, rolling on his stomach to splay his hands out over your belly. He stares up at you from between your legs. "Are you alright, my dear?" He asks while watching you carefully for any signs of more pain. You stretch lazily and smile at him. His concern for you tugs on your heartstrings. "Yes, my heart. Just some kicking." He lifts your dress up and over the curve of your belly, exposing it to the sun. He traces the stretchmarks on your lower belly with his fingertip. The contrast of the sun's warmth on your sensitive skin and his cool fingers tracing over where your taut skin has stretched to grow and give and make way for your baby feels heavenly. The sensation sends off unexpectedly strong sparks all over your body before you know it you're already breathy. "Ahhh- Astarion!" He smiles and presses kiss after kiss on your bump. You gasp softly, your desire overflowing quickly as you find yourself increasingly sensitive to his touch. "Hmm. Are you still comfortable, darling? We can always go back inside if you'd like." His fingers make cold soothing circles on your warm belly, and suddenly, the desire pooling between your legs feels unbearable. "Oh...No, I'm alright to stay out out here for now," you mumble to him, a bit breathless. "I'm enjoying the sun." He buries his face just under your swell, inhaling deeply where your thighs meet. "Good girl, let me take care of you."

He nuzzles his nose along the thin waistband of your underwear. You breathe deep as you feel him hold a kiss over the thin wet line forming over your panties. His open mouth teases you, lips and tongue prodding and tugging at sensitive puffy flesh. Both his hands come up to cup your ass and hold you to him as he kisses you impossibly deeper through your soaked panties. His hands run down your legs, catching on your ruined undergarments and pulling them down to discard them. He gently parts your thighs as he leans back to admire you. "Beautiful," he mutters to himself like a prayer. "So beautiful..." He's staring down at you through hooded eyes, his pupils so blown out with just you can hardly see the red there anymore. That predatory vampiric gaze that would normally prelude a bite to your neck. Instead, he drinks you in every other way that he can. Touching, smelling, tasting you. He massages the heel of his palm over your puffy mons, drawing out long pleasured cries of his names. His hand comes down to cup your sex, playing with your pussy teasingly. The drawn-out lazy motions already have you crying out.

"Oh my sweet girl," he coos as he leans foreword, carefully hovering over you and gently kissing you. Grounding you. The hormones coursing through your body already have you panting and shaking. "Use your words. Tell me what you need." You catch your breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and grounding yourself in his scent. "You. Need you. Please, make me feel good." He kisses you deeply before trailing kisses from your mouth down your neck. He moves to your chest, kissing over where your heart pounds against the skin. He gently cups your tender breast, aching badly these days. He nuzzles and kisses them delicately. Finally, he slows down over your bump again. He grabs you by your thighs and hooks them up on his shoulders. You look down at him and see his ruby eyes disappear under your belly. Not being able to see him added to your anticipation. You gasp as you feel his cool, flat tongue give a long, lazy lick up your slit. It feels like pleasantly cool water refreshing your overheated core as he laps again and again, his pace excruciatingly slow. You try to control your breath and clutch at the blanket below you as he indulges in you, but your body is buzzing with euphoria. You attempt to buck your hips against his face despite the added weight on your pelvis. He wraps his forearms around your thighs and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply over your clit before resuming his meal, feasting even deeper. He groans, relishing in your taste, as his head works up and down, over and over again - pressing the flat of his tongue over you with a little more pressure each time. You let out a high-pitched keen and felt your pussy spasm desperately around nothing. You were shocked at how close you already felt to the edge.

"Remember to breathe, darling." He mumbles cheekily, one hand coming up to rub up the side of your hip. Your hand finds his, and your fingers intertwine. He's decided you've had enough teasing, and you cry out again as he presses his mouth fully into you. His tongue slots into your aching pussy, nose buried in your clit and his brow rest gently against your swollen mons. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction as he nuzzles his nose and mouth into you, collecting your nectar. You try to control your breathing as you whine and moan and squeeze his hand as he holds you steady. You can feel him grinding his pelvis into the ground, clearly needy for his own stimulation, but he remains focused solely on you. The pained groans from his throat suddenly evolve into deeper growls and then a rumbling from within his chest. He presses his tongue flat against you, dragging it along you again and again, so deliciously slow each time you try and escape from the feeling, but he holds you through the overstimulation. His grinding becomes more urgent. He suckles at your clit and you cry out a long strangled moan as your legs clamp down around his head, your inner thighs rubbing his sensitive ears.

Deep vampiric purrs resonate out from his chest and travel up his throat. You can feel the vibrations running from him to you, his pleasure spurring on your own. He pushes two fingers inside you and pumps them in and out rhythmically while sucking your clit in time. It's too much, and the only way you can maintain your breathing is keen and cry out each breath. Your cries feed his purring in a feedback loop, making them stronger and threatening to topple you over. His fingers curl upwards inside you, and the combination of sensations finally does you in. Pulse after intense pulse rapidly throbs through your overstimulated pelvic muscles, contracting around Astarion's fingers as you ride it out. You wail as he continues to hold the suction over your clit as you cum, intensifying your orgasm. Jolts of ecstacy lance through your belly and spread out to the rest of your body in waves. Your head spins, your nipples tingle at the slightest friction from your dress, and when you close your eyes, you see bursts of color. The almost painfully intense throbbing in your core tappers out into fluttering pulses, a puddle of slick having pooled underneath you. Your head lolls back and you gulp down air, legs shaking as Astarion give you a few more licks for good measure. Once you ride out your orgasm he kisses you, checking on you to make sure you're not hurt. You nod through your post-orgasm haziness that you're alright. More than alright, really.

"Darling," Astarion groans as if he's in pain, palming at the tent in his pants. "Can I finish inside you? Please, I need to be inside you, love." You smile and begin to move to your side, already supported by your many cushions. He guides you into position, laying on your side with a pillow under your belly. Your dress is fully pushed up, laying yourself bare before him. Astarion pulls out his cock and you feel the precum dripping on your thighs as he lifts your leg gently. He carefully lines himself up with your slick entrance and pushes himself in. He leans foreword and shudders but holds your leg steady, his other hand never leaving your belly. He groans your name like a prayer, moving in short, fast thrusts as he quickly falls apart. He mutters incoherently in his bliss. "Sweet girl, my sweet girl. So good to me, having my baby. My love, all mine." He loses his pace, and his thrusts become choppy. His brows furrow together, and his fangs peak out from his upper lip as he lets go. He calls out your name as he cums, and you feel his release throbbing deep within you, drawing a few more spasms out of your sensitive pussy and making you both moan.

With the both of you now breathless he pulls out gently, cum leaking all over your thighs. He kisses your ankle as he gently lays your leg back down. Astarion moves to lay behind you and wraps his arms around your taut middle. He nestles in close, listening to your heartbeat slow down from your lovemaking. Your hand finds his, and you lace your fingers together again. As you begin to dift off into semi-consciousness, Astarion scoops you up effortlessly despite your pregnant frame. He smiles to himself, thinking he has the whole world in his arms. "Let’s get you inside, my dear."

#bg3 #bg3 one shot #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #astarion one shot #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #pregnancy cw #breeding cw #breeding kink cw #pregnancy kink cw #dadstarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

[solarmorrigan]

39 + 95, ship of your choice

Fanfiction Trope Mashup: 39. Survival/Wilderness Fic + 95. Sleep Intimacy

Hello! So I'm going to be honest with you and say that survival/wilderness stories have always given me anxiety and I've never enjoyed reading them, so the closest I got in writing one was a camping fic. I know it's not the same, but hopefully this is alright <3 (ship of choice was Steddie)

-

You might not know it to look at him, but Eddie had been an outdoorsy kind of kid.

He’d loved playing outside (he’s still the king of finding cool sticks to use as wizard staffs) and he’d always looked forward to his and Wayne’s annual camping trips. Wayne had taught him a lot about surviving in the wilderness on those long weekends, and Eddie had looked at them as grand adventures.

Eventually, of course, Eddie had gained other interests, and Wayne’s hours at the plant had changed, and the camping trips had petered to a stop. Eddie looks on the memories fondly, but doesn’t necessarily feel the need to go back and relive them (particularly not after the days he spent roughing it during the spring break from Hell). He’s happy to leave the outdoorsy activities to Steve these days. Steve loves going hiking, loves swimming, doesn’t even mind doing yardwork; he’s the one people would look at and assume he’d spent his childhood outdoors, except–

“You’ve never been camping?” Eddie asks, sitting up to look down at Steve where he’s squished in beside Eddie on a pool lounger that is absolutely not meant to fit two people.

Steve shrugs. “I always wanted to go, used to ask my dad a lot, and he used to promise he’d take me when he could get the time off of work,” he says. “I think he got pretty fed up with my asking, though, so I just kinda… stopped.”

Well, damn, if that doesn’t poke at a soft spot in Eddie’s hardened little heart.

“We could go,” Eddie blurts.

Steve blinks up at him. “What?”

“Me and Wayne used to go camping every year. I remember a lot of how it’s done, so… you and I could go,” Eddie offers. “If you want.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a smile blooming across his face.

Eddie can’t help his answering smile. “Shit, yeah. Let’s go.”

If it makes Steve this happy, Eddie thinks in between Steve’s excited little kisses of thanks, then even if it goes terribly, Eddie won’t regret offering.

It takes a little bit to finagle their schedules and get time off together, but they manage it on the first nice weekend in spring. They pack Steve’s car up with a tent and sleeping bags and provisions and everything else Eddie can remember them needing (and a few things Wayne helpfully reminds him of), and they set off on their adventure.

The weekend starts off well. They set up the tent with minimal swearing, and manage to get a fire going, and explore the trails surrounding their camp, and spend the first night looking at the stars that shine brighter here than they do over Hawkins, and it’s nice.

It’s nice right up until Midwestern weather rears its unpredictable head while Eddie and Steve are out hiking on Saturday afternoon. The clouds roll in fast, rain-scented wind kicking up and shaking the limbs of the trees above them; they turn around to head back to camp, but they aren’t quick enough to beat the incoming rainstorm.

They’re soaked by the time they reach the tent, running and spluttering and laughing breathlessly, zipping the flap shut behind them and shucking their wet clothes before they can drip all over everything. They leave them in a heap off to the side, hopefully to be line-dried later, and do their best to dry off in the confined space.

“Gonna be hard to warm up without the fire,” Steve comments as he tries to scrub the rainwater out of his hair.

The weather has been nice, but not so nice that standing around damp and in their underwear is particularly comfortable. Even in the close space of the tent, the air isn’t warm, and Eddie eyes the goosebumps texturing the bare expanse of Steve’s tanned skin.

“I have an idea,” Eddie says, and Steve looks up at him expectantly. “C’mere.”

Eddie nods to the little nest they’d made the previous night by zipping two sleeping bags together and covering it with a couple of extra blankets. They don’t bother with dry clothes – isn’t skin-to-skin contact better for warming up, after all? Eddie slides in first and Steve joins him, immediately pressing the line of his body up against Eddie’s, curling an arm around his waist, tangling their legs, and resting his cheek against Eddie’s chest. Eddie tucks the blankets up a little closer around the both of them and settles down, wrapping both arms around Steve’s back.

“How’s this?” he asks.

He can feel Steve’s contented sigh as much as he can hear it, and Steve wiggles a little against Eddie’s front, as if there’s any space left between them to eliminate.

“This is good,” Steve says softly.

And it is, Eddie decides. He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, where the earthy smell of the rain lingers, underscored by the faint, familiar scent of Steve’s shampoo. Rain continues to patter against the roof of their tent, and the soft, dim afternoon light does nothing to discourage either of them from beginning to drift.

If it can always be like this, Eddie doesn’t think he’d mind making camping an annual thing again. He wouldn’t mind at all.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #this is really just shmoop I'm afraid #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous

[guksfairy]

✧WC: 837

✧AN: wrote this while waiting for my Moonbin edit to render so it’s quick and not proofread 😀🫶

✧NOTES: Knight!Jk, Princess!OC, I don’t know just them being cute 🤭

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The wind was cold and rough against your skin. Running through the front public gardens holding Jungkook’s hand afraid to be caught. You hear his laughter through it all causing your smile to grow. You’re really doing it. You’re running away with him. No more royal balls. No more strict rules on your behavior in public. No more expectations. Reaching the city with your heads down you run to his apartment not too far and getting in as fast as you both could.

The door closing behind the two of you gives you a feeling of security and warmth before he turns on the lights and you look around.

“I know it’s nothing compared to the palace but…this is my home…for now,” he walks past you picking up random pieces of clothing previously left on the floor and placing them on his living room chair. You don’t care much.

“Koo, as long as I’m with you…it’s everything,” you walk to him again as he welcomes you with his embrace and a kiss on the top of your head rocking the two of you back in forth. He knew this was dangerous. In the act of one running away with the country’s princess, which had never been done before, he knows the consequences go further than just spending your life in jail. For you though, he would risk it all.

When you first talked to Jungkook 3 years ago on your 18th birthday hoping to befriend him he was cold. Why would the princess want to talk with him? Over time, however, your feelings for him grew and as did his. He did everything in his power to push them down because a relationship with you should have been impossible. Should have been. You were set to marry Park Minhyuk, a millionaires son who had an immense of power through the country. Yes, Minhyuk was handsome and kind but he wasn’t Jungkook. So when his girlfriend of 2 years ran to him in the middle of the day asking him to take her away from here forever, he didn’t even think twice. Immediately began thinking of their future.

You always spoke of Japan and how lovely it was. You can’t continue living in Korea as if people wouldn’t recognize their own beloved princess. Perhaps he can find a job in Japan. His brother was studying there for college. He’s going to have to ask him if you and him could stay there in the meantime. It was going to be quite tricky to leave the country with you but he was determined to complete your wish.

Jungkook had it all set up. You would walk away from the annual royal ball, only the most important people of the country got an invite, while everyone was distracted and meet him behind the palace. Though you were nervous at first you made it. And now you’re here, in the apartment of you boyfriend. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“We should probably start heading out soon. You’re family will be looking for you tonight sweetheart,” his voice is gentle but with a sense of urge. You nod and pull away from him holding the biggest smile on your face. It’s not that you’re family were terrible people but you personally couldn’t live a life in which everyone’s eyes were on you. Asking them multiple times to be renounced of your title but always declined, you knew you wouldn’t live a life you loved.

“I had to go to an old buddy of mine, Taehyung, for your passport with a fake name so let’s hope people just assume you look like…well yourself,” you laugh looking at the picture on it. Days before Jungkook had asked you to take a passport picture and send it to him. It looked awkward but it just made it more convincing. “I have most of my clothes and some essentials packed-I assume you want to change,” you stare at your ball gown with a blush and nod. “Hang on,” he walks over to a room, assuming it’s his bedroom, and comes back holding grey sweats, a black shirt, and a navy blue hoodie holding them out to you.

“Bathroom is this way,” he takes your hand leading to a small bathroom, “I’ll be right here waiting for you,” as he’s about to close the door for you, you hug him once more.

“Thank you, Koo,” he doesn’t think he’s smiled this big since he was offered the job at the palace 3 and a half years ago. Returning your hug he knows you’ll both be fine and live the life you both have talked about for so long. You’ve talked about wanting a family with him and like any other request from you, he was more than willing to do it.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader

[iphoenixrising]

Have I posted this? Alpha!Jon, Alpha!Dami, Omega!Tim 🤨

I told babe I was thinking about this, but I have done this before? Meh, regardless.

**

And really, when all things in Gotham are quiet, you know it’s going to be a good night.

B shouldn’t have worried enough to call Red Robin out of Titan’s Tower, but still, it’s nice to run through the city, skimming rooftops, getting a little more down n’ dirty with street baddies than riding the usual international espionage with his team. A few weeks away and this kind of thing is really just an itch that needs to be scratched.

“I am almost disappointed,” Robin laughs from beside him under the wing of a gargoyle right on the roof of the Wallstone apartments. His veggie wrap is disappearing quickly because Baby Bat has been a bottomless pit of hunger since he started putting on height and heavier muscle five years ago. Sixteen had been good for Dami, and Bruce’s genetics kicked into high gear two years later. At twenty-one, he’s broad through the chest and shoulders, almost a head taller than Red and a few sparse inches from Hood.

It was about the time Terry had approached him in Titans’ Tower, and convinced Red to start coming back to Gotham again, fighting the good fight along with the family, taking a step back into Gotham’s underworld when the world seemed to be momentarily stable. 

At some point, he and Dami started working together, stepping out in the night with masks on and old hurts finally easing. 

“Meh. There’s always another night,” Red takes another bite and sighs through his nose because really, chicken wrap for the win. 

(Alfred is always going to be the man.)

“I suppose. However, I’d hoped this wouldn’t have been an...exciting night for you to make the trip.” 

Red waves him off, looking down at the street, chewing for a second, “all good, Baby Bat. Everyone is out of the Tower for the weekend anyway. This is a nice break.”

Robin laughs low, “only you would consider this a break.”

“Well, you know, my Wednesdays are hectic as fuck.”

“I suppose it is difficult to schedule brunch, yes?”

“You don’t even know.”

And just like that, the two of them are laughing. A little bruised from a few street fights, but nothing extreme, and Dami is getting so much better at vigilante banter that Red Robin can’t help but feel a little proud.

(Really, witty banter is their superpower. Superboy and Kid Flash will totally vouch.)

They finish the wraps and swing side-by-side to the Bowery, talking shit over comms, playing tag around the strip mall down on 44th, and genuinely making themselves pretty obvious for people that actually look up.

It’s easy to jump in the big car at the end of the night, lean back to work on his wrist computer while Dami drives them back to the Manor.

“Hey, hey, you can just drop me a few blocks from the Perch.”

“Tt. Stay at the Manor tonight. You can brief me on R&D’s projects for the board meeting.”

“Pfft, like I need to.”

“Your perspective is always better.”

“Fine, fine. You’re so needy, Dami.”

“And yet, you still put up with me, Tim.”

“Well, you’ve got me there.”

And their smiles are wide in the darkness of the car, Robin and Red Robin riding back to the Cave with coffee waiting and hot showers to wash away the night. 

They meet back at the big computer, sweats and t-shirts, hair damp and bare faces, switching places from the main chair to their workstations, talking through the next week, repairing their gear or working on separate projects from their laptops. 

Alfred smears goop on bruises and gives a final please be certain to persuade Master Tim to actually sleep this time, won’t you Master Damian?, disappearing up the winding stairs, the calming scent of home lingering behind him, his natural Beta scent.

With his scent blockers scrubbed off, the air around Tim is faintly sweet, following him like the smell of a good latte. Dami’s scent is still more shampoo and soap since Nulls don’t really have a discernible scent to the second sex. 

And when they’re finally stretching and yawning, still a few hours to sleep before dawn, something in the air shifts.

One second, he’s got Dami laughing at the story about Bruce busting his bat ass against Mr. Freeze–while still being the Night, mind you– when Baby Bat stops abruptly, hand going down on Tim’s workstation top to catch himself when his knees unexpectedly give way.

Those eyes go wide, a hand going to his chest, fast and shocky enough that Tim sweeps forward to catch his youngest partner by pure instinct.

“Little D?! Dami, talk to me.” He keeps it calm, being Red Robin, staring at the sweat beading on the fourth Robin’s forehead while he gasps in a few fast and furious breaths. 

“T-Tim,” but his eyes flutter closed and his knees wobble, his weight falling further down on Tim’s shoulder.

Shit. Tim manages to maneuver Dami down to his chair, holding him steady, wracking his brain for anything, anything they could have come upon tonight. Fear toxin, Joker gas, Ivy’s array of poisons and venom, an awful rooftop burrito from the questionable cart downtown. Anything, anything he could have a cure for right here in the fucking Cave–

When he starts to move away, to jump in the Bat Med-Bay for a syringe to take a blood sample and start up the quickest analysis he’s ever pulled off before, when he’s tamping down panic to be on point, when he sees the distress happening when those eyes look up at him–

He completely misses the way Damian’s scent abruptly gets muskier.

A hand shoots out, grips his wrist, stops him from moving away.

“Okay, I’m getting worried. C’mon D. Tell me what’s–”

He reaches down, lays two fingers over the throbbing pulse, tries to get some vitals, and something deep and dark rumbles through Baby Bat’s chest, something all about need.

Oh.

Shit.

**

Most people present in their early teens, you know, about the time Robin had been a little dead, or so Tim’s sputtering thoughts try to explain away while the grip on his wrist gets tight, pulls quick enough to reel him in closer. The nose in his neck is a sudden indication since Dami as a Null had never really been able to scent like the rest of them.

The way the youngest vigilante is now inhaling against Tim’s throat like he’s dying, holding the Omega so fucking tight is the first piece of evidence. But when his mouth opens and a noise, a deep purr, rolls out against Tim’s jugular, he has an inevitable moment of oh fuck, panic.

Because he’s down in the Bat Cave with a presenting Alpha Male, and he probably smells like fucking dessert.

“D-Dami,” and he gives himself about a million vigilante points because his hands aren’t shaking when one cups the back of the new Alpha’s neck, fingernails scritching lightly at the fine hair. “Hey Baby Bat, it’s me here. I can help you, but you’ve got to ease up a little, okay?” He makes a small move to pull out of those arms, get Dami to actually look at him.

The whine is low, a noise he’s never heard out of their Robin before tonight, but those arms tighten on instinct, and now they’re pressed together from chest to hip and–and…

Oh.

“You’re going into a RUT?!”

Because of course. His luck is that awful.

“T-Timmm,” is growly and low, deeper than Robin’s usual voice, and Tim can’t suppress the shudder that goes through him.

“You’re presenting, better late than never, right?” He keeps petting even when something wet moves up the side of his throat, making a tremor go through him. “We need to–to call Jon, okay? He can help you.”

“Tim, you…” and there’s another lick to his throat, dragging over his skin like Dami’s savoring him.

“I-I’m not–” but Dami abruptly lets him go and drops down to kneel, shoving his face in the soft t-shirt over Tim’s stomach.

Hands are on his hips now, the tight hold gripping him.

He pulls the comm out of Dami’s ear, the presenting Alpha not flinching away, staying where he kneels, inhaling the scent of Omega.

Tim fumbles the comm in his ear, tapping frantically until the sound of whoosh is in the foreground.

“Hey babe,” Jon’s voice rumbles over the line, “have a good night with Red Robin?”

“Sorry, wrong Robin,” Tim stares down at Dami’s slack features with wide eyes, taking in the closed eyes, “We...that is, Robin needs you in Gotham ASAP.”

“Diverting course now,” is the immediate response, Jon’s voice changing to Superboy’s. “T, is he hurt?”

Unsure of who could be listening on the line, Tim makes a fast decision, tries to take a small step back. The hands tighten down immediately, Dami’s back straightening, eyes snapping open. The growl is something deep, vibrating the chest against his thighs, pulling at his inner Omega.

“He’s not hurt, but he might get out of control if I don’t get someone here quickly.” Tim gently lays a trembly hand on Dami’s shoulder, gets the Alpha to look up at him with those green eyes.

“Baby Bat, this isn’t...you don’t really want to do this, okay? Try to think for me, Dami. This is just because I’m an Omega, so I need you to try and think.”

“Wait, what?” Jon’s voice sounds horrified.

Shit. Forgot to tap the comm off. But, really, his inner Omega is starting to enjoy all the attention of an Alpha male, newly presented or not, so Tim totally gives himself an out here.

“Jon,” he tries to be calm, but Dami is lifting up his shirt and sticking his goddamned nose right in Tim’s belly button. His eep probably isn’t helping anything.

“Hold on, Tim, I’m almost there.”

The snuffles of breath against his stomach, brush of mouth, and Tim’s instinct to get the fuck away hits abruptly–

(Your boyfriend is going to kick my ass if he sees this.)

–and he moves fast, both hands on Dami’s wrist to loosen the hold and spin away from the Alpha male to give himself some space, pulling the current Robin off balance.

He ends up back by the big computer, eyes going wildly to his harness and utility belt discarded at his workstation.

The low growling reverberates through the Cave, making the bats above screech and start to flap around, and Tim’s whole body goes tight with what he’s sure to be an oncoming fight, wondering how that’s going to go with a rut-fevering Alpha, one that’s also his partner, his friend.

(The Omega in him doesn’t give a shit, just knows how good that musk smells, how much the Alpha is in need, how much it craves the attention, how much it wants.)

Dami’s eyes are glittering green, muscles tense as he stalks closer, eyeing the Omega he wants, the one that smells...delicious.

The rumbling purr breaks out of him again, something soft and soothing, meant to entice. 

“Don’t make me fight you,” Tim swallows, eyes all for Baby Bat getting closer to him, body language giving away everything. “Dami, I don’t want to hurt you.”

But it looks like his words are lost to the Rut haze since the Alpha only purrs louder, his musk stronger even in a place as spacious as the Cave. 

All right, then. It’s time to have a plan.

He feins right, darting half a step, then takes off near the bad guy trophies. The massive penny is probably a perfect distraction right about now. 

Dami leaps from his side, cutting him off, the Alpha manifesting in him giving chase. Tim manages to leg sweep him, escaping reaching hands. 

He doesn’t make it to the penny before Dami is pretty much body slamming him into the Cave floor, bigger hands pinning his wrists over his head, knees spreading him, and the growling Alpha is looming over him, the musk calling to his inner Omega.

“No! Dami, Dami!”

But the swipe of wet over his jugular makes his knees tremble, his back arch and not in that I’m trying to escape kind of way.

(But really, it’s been a long time, and he’s an Omega, the scent of a strong, able Alpha is like Fear Toxin or Joker Venom, it gets in his lungs, makes his inner Omega plaint, makes his scent stronger to appeal to the Alpha. Their bodies work against them.)

Dami’s free hand holds his jaw to the side so he can shove his nose in Tim’s scent gland and inhale deeply. He’s laying on top, their chests pressed together when the purring starts, and the rumble against him is obviously affecting him. 

He almost wants to cry when Dami rolls his hips down, and fuck, he’s– he’–

“No,” Tim moans in Dami’s hold, his hips juttering up because he’s starting to get hard, their sweatpants making it easy to tell. “We...we can’t. J-on, Dami, you’ve got to remember Jon–”

But he loses all thought when that mouth latches on to his throat and sucks.

He cries out, bucks up when his body responds with want. 

If he doesn’t do something fast, Jon is going to viciously–

“O-oh, oh wow, I…”

Because Superboy is suddenly right there watching Tim writhe on the floor under Dami, and Jon’s eyes are huge and blue, his face pink.

“It’s not–” Tim tries, “it’s just because I’m an Omega!”

“If you want to believe that,” Jon lands on his feet, moves easily to wrap both arms around his boyfriend to lift him off Tim without any effort. “Then I’m not the one to tell you differently, right Dames?”

The newly-presented Alpha tries to lunge out of the hold, to go back to the Omega scrambling to his feet.

Tim is sure his face is red enough to match Dami’s tunic, and he turns slightly to try hiding the obvious erection in his sweatpants.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim sputters, arms around himself, “but if he did something to me while he’s very obviously dating you, he’d never forgive himself.”

But Jon seems very undisturbed about finding his boyfriend all over another guy, “sure, if we hadn’t already talked about it before. Him presenting as an Alpha this late wasn’t part of that though, so you might have a point.” Jon suddenly grins over the struggling Robin at Tim’s shocked face.

“Jon, he could barely stand me for years–” and the bitter scent of old pain takes over Tim’s sweetness because fuck, he’d wiped off the scent blockers.

But the change in scent makes Dami stop struggling against Jon’s hold, for both Alphas to suddenly have laser focus right on him. Caught up off his feet by Jon’s arms, Dami stops struggling, those green eyes intensely on Tim, hunched over slightly, holding himself.

“Oh Tim,” Jon sighs softly, and it comes out in a soft purr, “he’s been crazy about you for years. I mean, c’mon, you’re the best Robin detective!”

“But he’s with you. I-I would never do anything to fuck that up,” he’s starting to inch away, closer to the winding staircase, “you have to know that, Jon. I would never–”

“I gave him permission, Tim,” Jon cuts him off, “if you ever gave him the chance. O-or if you ever gave us the chance, we would take care of you."

Tim.exe has stopped.

"Geeze, do you even know how many times we talked about seeing you through your Heat? Even if he was a Null at the time, just talking about having you in bed with us was enough to make him go multiple times. I’m half-Kryptonian and I still had to tap out after round --“

“You would do that?” Tim cuts him off, voice strangely strained, “you would - you and Dami would - would take care of me? During my Heat?”

And Jon pauses in his ramble, only one arm around the presenting Alpha’s chest, still holding him slightly back. But Damian hears something in Tim’s tone that is upsetting. It makes him angry, makes him reach out an open hand in the hopes Tim takes it.

“Yes,” is edged with a growl, his hand open and waiting.

“We absolutely would take care of you, Tim, Heat or not. I swear, we won’t hurt you.” And Jon means it, says it unconsciously with his Superboy voice like Tim is a scared civilian and not a seasoned vigilante. “You would be safe with us.”

“I…” but his eyes dart to Jon who is churning out the most pleasant happy Alpha scent. “I can help make the Rut easier. If - If it- “

“Yes,” both Alphas growl at the same time, but Jon wasn’t holding Damian back anymore. 

It was both of them inching forward, Dani’s hand out, his other clenched in Jon’s cape, brining his Alpha mate with him.

"It's statically easier for Alphas to have an Omega the first time," he rambles breathlessly, watching them come closer, the tension in his shoulders easing at the scents. He seems to sway with bare feet, hand twitching toward what they're offering.

"It'll be easier if Dames has you, not just an Omega," Jon rumbles while Damian slyly snatches Tim's hand, reels him closer. "We've got a Rut room at his place in Wayne Tower."

"Bet mine is more secure in the Perch," Tim mumbles in Dami's neck, eyes rolling up to look at Jon while the presenting Alpha inhales sharply again his throat. The noise coming out of him reverberates through all three of them.

"Decision, decisions," Jon smirks over his mate's shoulder, nose barely skimming the other side of Tim's neck, a ghost of a touch.

It still makes a certain scent spike.

It's Damian that makes the final decision, lifting his head and one hand to pull Jon's mouth to his, growl and lick and bite while Tim watches, the tension in his abdomen getting tighter, warmer, the ust surrounding them as the Alphas fight for dominance.

Right in front of him.

The noise that comes out of Tim's throat is enough to spur someone into actions because--

-- the next second, the cave camera blur and the three disappear from sight, leaving behind discarded suits. Twenty seconds later, the lights click off for the night, leaving the bats to settle back down.

#drab #abo #tagged for anon #can't believe I remember how to tag #omega!tim #alpha!jon #alpha!dami #tim drake #damian wayne #jon kent #have I written this? #idk

[vivian-pascal]

Sandy Winds

bf!javier x f!reader

summary: Just a relaxing day out with your lovely boyfriend, Javier Peña.

warnings: fluff, teasing, public clit rubbing/fingering, ass grabbing, dirty spanish talking javi, hand grinding, description of what reader wears, vivid description of reader/Javi applying sunscreen

authors note: this is for Jamie's ocean challenge!! @mermaidgirl30

You woke up this morning feeling bright and happy. The sun was shining, the weather was good. So, you rolled over and looked at the man sleeping next to you. Your hand slowly ran up his back and into his messy curls, softy massaging his head as you watched him begin to wake.

He slowly turned over to you and smiled. "Morning querida." His gravelly morning voice coming out stronger than ever. You smirked at him as his eyes slowly began to flicker open.

"Let's go to the beach." His head immediately perked up and smiled. He hummed lowly. "And, what's got ya in the mood to go to the beach today? Thought you didn't like the sand mi amor."

You giggle at his teasing and roll your eyes. "The sun looks so beautiful today and it's perfect! I checked the forecast so it looks like there will be no rain!"

He smiles at you as you boop his nose. "Alright alright." You smile with excitement as you immediately bounce up from bed and go to grab a swim suit.

When you emerge back from the closet fully changed into your bikini, Javier can't help but to mellow a low whistle. You looked stunning.

He rises out of bed and walks over to you. Placing his hands on your waist and reaching down to grab your ass. You swat at his arm and roll your eyes. "Te ves tan hermoso bebé"

You giggle as he reaches down to kiss your lips. "Javi!!! We need to go!" He chuckles at your flustered state and lets go of your body. You grab towels, sunscreen, and you even pack a cooler filled with some drinks and snacks. You also make sure to grab some umbrellas.

Before heading out to load everything into the car, you grab your sun hat and a pull over for your swimsuit. You load everything into the back of the jeep as you hop into the passenger side.

You see Javier coming out through the garage with his swim trunks on and a green shirt. One of your favorite shirts. You unwind the window and shout out to him. "Don't wear that one!"

He gives you a confused look before heading towards you to understand what you said. "What?" You roll your eyes and motion for him to open the door. He does as he's told and stands with his hand above the door and his other on his hip.

"Don't wear that shirt." He wipes the sweat off his temple and rolls his eyes. "And why not?" "Because it's my favorite and I don't want it to get ruined at the beach."

"But I thought my blue shirt was our favorite?" You roll your eyes and sigh. "I have many favorites, now go change!" He scoffs before running back inside and forcefully changing his shirt, he reemerges with a black tank top and you smile as it is acceptable.

He hops into the car and buckles his seat belt. "Thanks hon!" You smile at him as he starts the car and backs out. "Sure thing hermosa."

Your at the beach in no time, he parks the car up and you both grab your things. Javier grabs all the heavy things of course, since you couldn't be seen with a crooked back but he could.

You grab the towels and your bag whilst Javier carries the umbrellas and cooler.

You both walk along the beach for a little before finding a nice, quiet sunny spot. He sets up the umbrellas and you lie the towels down under them. You sit on your towel while Javier assembles the umbrellas above you. You remove your pullover and start the sunscreen process.

You start with your arms, rubbing equal amounts of sunscreen on each and then down to your legs doing the same. You rub some on your face and neck before calling Javier over to do your back. This was his favorite.

He smirks as he grabs the sunscreen bottle and pours the lotion into his hand. "Now, I don't need a massage Javi, just some sunscreen applied." He rolls his eyes as he gets to work.

Slowly rubbing the cream over your back and on your shoulders, massaging it in thoroughly. He reaches down and applies some to your ass, making sure to give it a big squeeze before you turn around and scold him.

He sits next to you on his towel and watches you as you put your sun hat back on and start your people watching. He looks at you softly as he admires you.

You're his. His beautiful girl that he loves dearly. He watches as your eyes softly begin to close as you reach your hands back and begin tanning.

He moves closer to you and runs a hand over your belly, your eyes flicker open as you see his hand slowly running down your body.

"Javi." You whisper in desperation as his hand runs over your clothed pussy and down your thighs. He runs his finger under the band of your bikini and you gasp quietly.

He pulls you close so you're lying down and facing him, one leg over his. Giving him easy access to your sweet core. He looks around to see nobody in sight. When the coast is clear, he slowly pulls back your bikini bottoms and inserts his hand.

You moan at the contact of his fingers on your clit, rubbing in slow soft circles. You grab onto his bicep and pull your hat down and over your face.

His fingers run down your slit and tease your weeping hole, going in the slightest bit but then pulling back out again. He circles your clit with the smallest amount of pressure before inserting his middle and ring finger into your hole.

You moan aloud at the intrusion, he shushes you as you bury your head into his shoulder. His other hand reaches behind you and squeezes your arm, pulling you closer to him.

You begin to grind down on his hand as his movements speed up. "Estoy aquí cariño" He praises you as he circles your clit with his thumb.

Moaning and gasping as his hands work their magic. You tug at his shirt as he adds a third finger. "Come on hermosa, you can take it."

You moan as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your weeping pussy at an exhilarating pace, making your thighs tremble as you grip his shirt harder and bury your teeth into his shoulder as you come.

He growls as he feels our pussy leaking for him. He rubs your arm as he soothes you.

You giggle as the waves of your orgasm subsides. He nudges your hat up to see our beautiful face and immediately smirks. "That was fun!" You giggle as he chuckles and nods his head.

You spend the rest of the day swimming in the ocean and tanning with Javier. Just you and him, and the beach.

translations-

querida-dear

mi amor-my love

te ves tan hermoso bebé-you look so beautiful baby

hermosa-beautiful

estoy aquí cariño-i'm here honey

tags!!

@guelyury @livingonthehems @ursagittariusgirlfriend @iamsherloocked @heartpascalispunk

@pinkcrystal44 @amyispxnk @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen

@kotourasan123@brittmb115 @littlevenicebitch69 @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

@morallyinept @magpiepills @javierpenaispunk @rav3n-pascal22 @yorksgirl

@itsokbbygrl @mountainsandmayhem

#javier peña smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena narcos #Jamie's ocean challenge #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[arlo-venn]

Now that marijuana is fully out of my system, the night terrors and getting trapped in nightmare loops for entire irl days at a time and the waking up kicking and screaming has returned! 🤠 And so far they’ve all been about the family that I am entirely estranged from for very good reasons 🤠 And my tics and waking seizures are making a come back! I’m having a lot of fun! 🤠

#I dream extremely vividly #I can read in dreams and use my phone like normal #Scroll through and text and all that #Phone calls are usually garbled but the rest is just like reality #I die in my dreams #I feel the physical pain #I feel them holding me down #I feel the wind on my face as I run run run from them #Woke up screaming for Tyrell this morning #Couldn’t stay awake and was dragged back into the loop #Kicked the fuck out of the shelf next to my bed recently #Woke up in a running crawl (right off my very tall bed) #Neck muscles enraged from the irl head flinging #At least the tics and neuro issues aren’t quite as bad as they usually are without weed #I assume because of the naltrexone? #which I will be out of soon with no $ to refill too :( #but low dose naltrexone does not help with the dreaming #only weed has ever helped with the dreaming #but hey I have been less nauseous these last few days at least #so that’s a win #idk what kind of tw to put on this post I’m sorry #I haven’t seen them in ten years irl #and now they’re torturing me every time I sleep #and it is so so so real #getting some dream things and reality things mixed up again #am confused #everything is a lot! all at once! always! #makes zero sense for stuff from compunding pharmacies to not be covered by insurance #makes zero sense for medical marijuana to be legal but not covered by insurance #compounding*

[beeseverywhen]

if you have hair that you can brush when it's dry without it immediately exponentially increasing in volume, please, please, leave me out of your hair care tips. I really, really don't need to hear your opinion on how often I wash it or the products I use. The conditioner weighing it down and making it greasy is literally not possible. It being heavy is a good thing. No conditioner isn't optional. I'm pleased for you that your bristle brush is working for you! But it can only redistribute oils if you can pull it through the hair to start with.

Trying to give hair care advice to someone based on what you do when they have hair with a completely different texture is like trying to apply cactus care tips to bedding flowers. It's like putting wood polish on aluminium. It literally will not work. Do not comment on my hair routine being high maintenance if you have the option to forgo all hair products and only wash it with water and can still wear it loose. What did people do before conditioner? Well with my hair type they were 100% using oil to moisturise it and they also didn't wear it down.

Its not the same. It's not grown dependent on conditioner over time. It's always been dependent on conditioner to look like this. It can not retain moisture by itself. If I didn't condition it I would have to keep it plaited all the time or it would twist in to itself without any input. It only looks similar enough to your hair that you think your tips will work because I've put in an enormous amount of effort to keep it healthy in spite of me wearing it loose and uncovered most of the time. Your hair looks neat when you brush it and the weather doesn't destroy it, we aren't the same.

#why are people so determined to see hair care as one size fits all #why do they feel the need to force their opinions on me about things they clearly don't know anything about #oh I've never seen hair do THAT when you brush it. i know!!!! that's obvious from the fact you wanted me to brush it dry #every time they are like 'i know someone with hair that looks like yours and it worked for them #oh so their hair looked like mine after I've heavily conditioned my hair and babied it? does it feel the same. did brushing make it smooth? #it isn't the same!!! you can't compare end results of 2 ppl looking after their hair in the best way for their hair and assume its the same #the look of shock on their face when you cant run a brush through it #when it stays together without a band #it's almost like we've got different hair types!!! who could have guessed #and then ppl are surprised by how healthy it is.you can just tell they are like. how can it be that healthy when you arent looking after it #because i am looking after it!!! this is how you look after hair like mine! any damage is literally from the wind and the sun #it has been babied. this is it at its peak. that's why it's growing so fast and has no split ends. it's not luck #it wants to clump together so if i don't let it do that yeah the exposed layer is going to get battered #every time someone suggests i do less with my hair i want to show them a picture of my grandads hair like: does this look like a good look #to you??? the conditioner is entirety necessary if i want any chance of it lying flat (ish) and don't want it to feel like wire #your experiences are not universal

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

#what if they’re both secretly famous and clueless about each other #this is called ‘Upstaged’ #part two soon #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #baseball player steve harrington #famous steve harrington #meet cute #saved your life trope #famous eddie munson #rueswriting

[zwhoreo]

can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️

AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)

hunger - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger

contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)

words: 2.4k

_______________________________

Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.

He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.

You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.

But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.

“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”

“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.

“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.

“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.

You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.

“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.

“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”

Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.

“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.

Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.

And then he licks his lips. He dives in.

You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.

“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.

He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.

This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.

And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.

“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.

“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”

You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.

His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.

With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.

Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.

So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.

Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.

Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.

Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.

“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.

He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.

“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.

Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.

“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.

You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.

“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.

“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.

He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.

He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.

Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.

Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.

“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”

“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.

His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.

“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.

“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”

This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.

“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”

#blushing rn #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #one piece smut #luffy smut #luffy x reader smut #luffy x f!reader

[yeetus-feetus]

Today my mother made me go to the beach. And while I was there I let myself enjoy the water and sand between my toes.

After a little while I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because remembered the videos I had seen of Palestinian children playing in the water of their beaches, of parents chasing children around while they laughed, of people enjoying the water and feeling the sand between their toes.

Then I thought about how these people don't get to enjoy their beaches anymore. Because Israel won't let them, because Israel is bombing the families who used to play in the sand.

When we got in the car my mum rolled all the windows down, said something about the fresh air. And as we drove I felt the cool wind against my face, in my hair.

And I wanted to cry.

Because the people in Gaza don't get to just enjoy the fresh air. Because all they're breathing in is debris from destroyed buildings and white phosphorus, and the smell of the dead.

I looked out my window and saw my old school as we passed. And I felt guilty, because I dropped out. But their are children in Palestine who are crying and begging to go back to school and they can't.

The children in Gaza can't go back to school because Israel has destroyed and bombed them.

And I think about the displaced people taking refuge in those very schools while Israel attacked them. I think about how unfair and cruel that is.

And then I see the trees. My favourite trees, Gum trees that are native to my land. And I think about how the native trees in Gaza are being destroyed and bulldozed, very important trees that mean a lot to the Palestinian people. And those trees are being taken away by Israel.

Then there are houses, homes and people going about their day. I watch them from my car window and I want to cry still. Because the people in Gaza have no homes, they don't get to go about their day.

I think about the displaced people in Gaza, who are lucky to have a tent to sleep in. Because Israel has bombed their homes, rained white phosphorus above their homes, bulldozed over their homes, forced the Palestinian people to flee from their homes.

I'm barely holding in my tears, because I'm in the car on the way to my own home and the people in Gaza don't get to do that.

We pass the shops, and my throat starts to close up because there's people buying ice cream and groceries for their families. And the people in Gaza are being starved by Israel.

The people in Gaza don't get to have ice cream, they can't do their grocery shopping. They don't even have enough food for their own children because Israel refuses to let any aid trucks in, because they control all the borders and entries into Gaza.

We pass by a chemist in particular and I think about all the children in Gaza not being able to receive medical care. Because the hospitals are being attacked by Israel. Because no medical aid can get in. Because they have doctors being killed.

And then we pass by the park. The park is empty. And I think about the empty parks in Gaza. Because there are no children to play on the swings, no children to run and laugh. Because the children are crying instead. The children have no legs to play because they've been bombed. They can't laugh because white phosphorus has burned through their faces. They can't do anything because they are frozen in fear.

Theses children who should be filling up empty parks are holding their baby siblings, trying to keep them alive because their parents, aunt's and uncles, have all been slaughtered by the IDF. These children who should be laughing are screaming out for help because members of the IDF are raping them.

These children who should be having fun at the park are prisoners of Israel for throwing rocks at tanks like the boy David who threw a rock at the giant Goliath to save his people. And these children are being tortured in these prisons because they were hopeful and brave.

These children who should be with their families at the park are dying. Are dead. A lying beneath the ruble. Are cold and limp with no air in their lungs. These children are in pieces scattered across the blood drenched ground.

They should have been at the park today.

I can hear a man talking on the radio, and he's talking about unimportant nonsense things and I feel angry. I feel frustrated. Because why is no one else talking about this!? Why is no one talking about what's happening to these people!??

We pass by the fresh water creak right before my house and I want to scream! Because I know there's no fresh water in Gaza. I know there are Palestinians dying of dehydration and yet there is fresh, drinkable water running right there! But the water in Palestine has been polluted by blood and disease, and the seawater Israel has flooded their water supply with.

And when I get to my bed I finally scream and cry and punch my mattress to get all my emotions out.

Now I'm numb and writing this so that someone will see it, hoping that someone will understand, hoping that someone will fight even harder for the people of Palestine.

I'm hoping that they can enjoy their beaches again. I hope that's sometime soon.

#palestine #free palestine #save palestine #save gaza #gaza #i stand with palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #isreal #idf #fuck the idf #fuck isreal #end the occupation #occupied palestine

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #reunion

[bitchesuntitled]

Wrong Delivery

Summary: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI go on get! No outbreak/pre outbreak(you decide), fluff, smut, miscommunication, cussing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv(don't do that, make smart choices), cream pie, Joel being a dork.

A/N: First time I've ever actually finished a Joel story I started working on! Many thanks to @strang3lov3 for the encouragement and taking a look at this, @jay-zzle as always for giving me ideas and making moodboards for me because I hate doing them myself! ❤️❤️❤️

🌹This is for @morallyinept’s flora & fauna challenge! 🌹

Divider provided by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

As you rush into the building, trying to avoid the construction team surrounding the place, a timid smile crosses your face when you spot Joel, the man responsible for why you’re running late this morning. Instead of getting ready for work like you were supposed to, Joel Miller decided he wanted to spend his morning coaxing another orgasm out of you, as if the three last night weren’t enough. It’s been a couple of months of this. 

It had never been your intention to start sleeping with the hot contractor who had been doing construction at your place of work, you both just happened to be at the same bar one night. One thing led to another and now it’s been this, whatever this is.

“Mornin’ guys,” you say passing the crew, each giving their own sort of greeting back, be it a grunt of acknowledgment or repeating the greeting.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Joel says with a cheeky smile, “Runnin’ a little late?”

“Yeah, woke up late,” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up.

“There you are!” Becky shouts, making her way towards you, “Angie is up my ass right now about where you are with those reports you said you’d get done yesterday.”

“On it,” you sigh, “Nice talking to you Joel.”

“Oh!” Becky said with a smile, grabbing his bicep, “Hi Joel! You guys sure have been working hard on all of this.”

You try to keep your eyes from rolling at Becky’s consistent attempt at flirting with Joel. She has definitely tried her hardest to get his attention, made cookies “for the crew” but only handed some of them to Joel, tries to talk to him every chance she can, wearing lower cut tops so her cleavage is on full display, batting eyelashes and laughing at any dumb thing he says. It’s starting to get on your nerves, if you’re being honest. Making your way to your desk you open the drawer, shoving your purse inside before closing it and turning on your computer. You open the teams app, sending Angie a quick message to let her know you’ll put the file with the reports in the folder outside her door, grabbing the file and making your way to her office.

Becky is still talking Joel’s ear off and you have to stifle your laugh, watching his eyebrows scrunch together and his polite nod before excusing himself. She catches you as you're on your way back to your cubicle to start the work day.

“That Joel Miller is a man,” Becky sighs, walking beside you, “The things I would let him do to me.”

“Oh jeez,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk.

“I wonder what his dick is like,” she continues, “I bet it’s big.”

You turn to your computer hoping she can’t see the look on your face because then the jig would be up.

“Uhm,” you say, clearing your throat, “You better be careful. Don’t wanna get turned into HR.”

—

“Hello,” a frazzled delivery guy announces himself at the entrance to your cubicle. “I have a delivery for you, miss.”

“For me?!” Becky asks excitedly, seeing the bouquet of flowers. The delivery guy nodded, handing her the flowers. “Who are they from?!”

“Uh… Joel Miller?” The guy says, looking at his sheet. Your jaw drops upon hearing his words. Why on earth would Joel send Becky flowers?

“Oh my god!” Becky squeals with delight, grabbing the card, “Aw! Look! It says darlin’ on the envelope!”

Becky opens the card, reading it aloud:

“Figured a pretty lady like you should have some flowers to look at. Been havin’ the time of my life gettin’ to know ya and would love to take you out. He signed it off with a heart and J. Miller! How sweet is that?!”

Beside yourself on handling this, the only thing you could think of was finding the man himself. If this entire thing between you two was just for fun so be it, but you needed answers.

“Real sweet,” you mutter standing up, “I’m…  uh… I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Becky hums dreamily, staring at the flowers on her desk.

You make your way to the front of the building, spotting Gus, one of the construction guys.

“Can you tell Joel I need to talk to him?”

“Sorry ma’am, he had to leave earlier, something about Tommy.” Gus shrugs. 

“Uhm… okay.” You nod, deciding to make your way to the breakroom, sitting at one of the tables trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe it’s for the best that he left. That way the entire building wouldn’t see you blow up. Are you even still supposed to see each other tonight? That had been the plan when he left this morning. What the actual fuck, you think to yourself, give annoying ass Becky flowers to ask her out, and then fuck you? That two-timing son of a bitch!

“So fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

—

You make it through the workday, as best as you can, trying not to think of Joel and how mad you are all while Becky continues to talk about him all day. What should she wear, wondering where he’d take her, what they would do, should she sleep with him on the first date. Hopefully, the Excedrin will kick in soon to help with the teeth grinding headache you’ve had all day. Walking to your car Becky’s shrill voice rings out wishing you a good evening.

“Yeah, you too,” you grumble, pulling your car door open and throwing your purse inside. You’re still so mad, fuming, seeing red as you drive towards your place. Once getting home, you quickly change into comfy clothes, and see you have a text from Joel.

JMiller: Can’t wait to see you beautiful ;) Leavin’ Tommy’s

You scowl looking at the text. How do you even respond to that? Petty, that’s how.

You: K.

You see the text bubbles pop up, disappear then pop up again before his face shows on your screen with an incoming call.

“Hello,” you snap.

“Hey,” Joel says hesitatingly, “Bad day at work?”

“Well, Becky got some lovely flowers delivered at work.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” you say with a harsh pop at the end.

“And?” Joel asks, “Is that it?”

“Delivery guy and card said they were from you.”

“Fuck me,” Joel groans “Those were not for goddamn Becky!”

“Sure about that?”

“I got them for you.” Joel argues.

“Yeah, okay.” You huff into the receiver, rolling your eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s fine if you didn’t want this going anywhere but you could’ve been honest with me about it.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groans, “I do want this going somewhere! Like I said, the flowers were for you!”

“Sure,” you say, shaking your head, “Just be honest, Joel. This has just been fun, that’s it. You’re getting your dick wet, stringing me al—“

“God damn it! I am telling the truth!” Joel growls, cutting you off. “I even have proof!”

“What proof?!” You spit back, “The proof of the flowers you sent Becky? Yeah, I saw them, and the card too. Sweet touch signing it off with a heart and then your name.”

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You cock your head to the side, hearing the knock sound through the phone as well. Of fucking course, Tommy’s is a five minute drive to your place, making your way to the door you swing it open to see Joel standing there. His nostrils flared, phone held up to his ear, dropping it and angrily stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Just give me five minutes, I swear, they were meant for you and I have fuckin’ proof,” Joel says, holding up a piece of paper.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You groan, smacking your phone onto the entry table.  “Why are you here?”

“I was on my way home from Tommy’s. Figure I’d come here first,” Joel says, holding the paper out to you, “Go on, look at it.”

You grab it, glancing it over. Farrah’s Flowers printed at the top, with your name listed as the order’s recipient, eyes bulging out of your head as you look at him.

“Told you.”

“Wait, then how the fuck did they get to Becky then?”

“Somebody fucked up, that’s all I know but that is my copy of the receipt for buyin’ them in the first place, and that is your name on it,” Joel smirks in triumph, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Your shoulders relax as you open the door wider, motioning your head for him to come in. He gives a subtle nod, making his way into your home, you slump against the door once it’s closed.

“Joel,” you start, “What the fuck are we?”

He cages you against the door, pushing his lower half into you. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck, looking at those dark chocolate eyes.

“Well,” Joel says, kissing your cheek, “I want you,” placing a soft kiss against your lips, “More than just for sex,” he whispers, against your lips breathing in each other's air causing you to feel a dizzying arousal. Lips collide with him in a hungry kiss, tongues rolling against one another, gasping when his hands creep down to hook around your thighs lifting you, grabbing onto your ass before pulling you away from the door and carrying you to your bedroom.

Joel lays you down on your bed hovering over you, never breaking away from your lips, licking into your mouth with desperation like this might be his last chance. Arousal begins pool in your underwear. Hands gliding down his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, lifting the bottom of his shirt until he finally lifts to fling it off.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Joel husks, lightly biting your neck, causing you to moan at the sensation of his teeth against your skin, “Just you.”

“Joel,” you whimper as his hand travels down the length of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your tits, ducking his head down. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak before switching to give the other equal attention, kissing a trail down the soft flesh of your stomach until he reaches the top of your leggings.

“Can I?” He asks, looking at you, fingers hooking into your waistband. You give a firm nod and he pulls them off along with your underwear. He sighs once they are off, using his shoulders to spread your legs further apart, “So fucking pretty,” he hums, nipping and kissing along your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your center.

You can feel his breath against your folds, trembling with anticipation for his tongue and lips to make contact, letting out a soft moan Joel begins lapping at your folds, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. Tongue massaging circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, raking your fingers through his hair and lightly tugging.

Joel’s hum reverberated into your core. His mouth opened and he began to fuck you with his tongue while firmly holding your gaze. You’re back arched at the sensation, letting out a gasp. You roll your hips against his face, his nose pressing deliciously against your clit. He grunts, moving his thumbs to spread your lips, licking a stripe up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

“Oh my god, Joel!” You whine, arching your back, feeling the band tightening within your core, begging for release. Joel sinks two of his thick fingers into you causing you to cry out, moving them to massage that sweet spot against your walls, “Yes! Oh my god, fuck!” You could feel the smug smirk on his face, knowing you’re about to come.

“Come on,” he coos, firmly licking your bundle of nerves “Let me have it baby.”

You cry his name out over and over as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing through you. He continues lapping at your folds, wanting to make sure he gets every last drop before you push his head away. He crawls up the length of your body, the denim of his jeans scratching against your skin.

“Good?” He asks, you nod giggling and he smirks, grabbing the nape of his neck you pull him closer to your face, looking into your eyes he whispers a hi. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, surging forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into your mouth, grinding his bulge against your center, the rough denim providing friction against your core. His hand moves to his belt, swiftly unhooking it and unbuttoning his jeans. Hands sliding down to help him push the denim off his hips, boxers following suit. You grip his hard length, stroking it from tip to base. Palm spreading the precome over his long thick length. Joel lets out a soft moan at the touch.

“Want you inside me,” you whimper, rubbing his cock against your slick heat. “Please.”

He bats your hand away, grabbing his cock to tease your folds more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. You let out a moan when his tip catches against your entrance. Only for him to slide back up to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against you.

“Joel,” you begged, titling your pelvis, “Please, please fuck me.”

Joel smirks, sliding his cock back down to your entrance, feeding you his bulbous head. You writhe, feeling the stretch. He sinks into you slowly, filling you up until his tip kisses your cervix. Fingers gripping his back, each of you letting out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel murmurs into your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, letting you adjust to his size, “Best pussy ever,” placing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Joel, move,” you plead, hitching your legs up on his waist, “Need you to move.”

He pulls out slowly before snapping his length into you again, letting out a shaky breath at the harshness of his thrust. Your grip on his back tightens, sinking your nails into his skin. He lets out a hiss as he rocks his hips into you, trying to find that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “Don’t want anyone else, darlin’.”

Breathy moans shared between kisses, sweat slicked skin gliding against each other. He pushes your thighs back further into a mating press, finding that sweet spot inside your walls.

“Oh my god,” you whine, back beginning to arch, “Right there!”

His cock massages that spot with every stroke, causing your muscles to tighten. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, walls beginning to flutter around his shaft as he drills into that spot over and over.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls, feeling the heat of his skin slapping against yours, “I need you to come, baby. Ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You moan wantonly as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. Joel holding out to make sure you come first. The coil in your belly finally snaps, sending you over the edge, white hot electricity flowing through every limb. He thrusts into you harshly half a dozen more times before his hips stutter.

“Only you, darlin’, only want you,” he grunts, as he empties himself inside you, painting your walls with his sticky release, “only want you.”

Joel collapses, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, nuzzling his nose against yours, placing soft kisses against your lips.

“Only want you,” he sighs.

—

You spent the next hour, in each other's arms, talking, snuggling and kissing.

“I can’t believe you would think I’d want Becky,” Joel booms with laughter, eyes crinkling around the edges. You smirk playfully, slapping his arm.

“Look,” you giggle, “I didn’t know if her flirting finally wore you down!”

“Hi Joel!” He says in an exaggerated high pitch, batting his eyelashes, “My, you sure have been working hard!” he adds with a girly giggle, lifting his pecs to create some sort of cleavage.

“Oh shut up!”

“Did you see the flowers though? Like actually look at ‘em?”

“Not really,” you sigh, playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“Purple tulips for new beginnings and love,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “Jasmine for devotion,” he continues, kissing your other cheek, “and pink roses for appreciation,” he smiles before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really?”

“Yep, the florist helped me pick them out,” Joel says, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss, “Told ya they were for you.”

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

[eupheme]

— on the fence [into the fire, part ii]

part i | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.8k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, oral (m), exhibitionism, spanking, biting, hair pulling, light choking, sub/dom elements, PiV, irradiated creampie

a/n: hi! I had a couple ideas I wanted to explore, which turned into a mini-series. I have them all mapped out & I hope to have them up for you soon! 💖

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

(Or - the Ghoul gets you out of your Vault Suit.)

You’re not sure you like the look of this town.

It sprawls wide and low across the desert, the inhabitants gathering in the shadows to escape glare of the sun. A low buzzing murmur that carries with you through the streets.

It feels suffocating, after the open miles before.

Following the dark figure of Ghoul, as you wind through the streets. Partly because you have to - that leash still pulled tight, wrapped around a fist.

Partly because you want to stick close, always.

“-don’t need you slowing me down.” The Ghoul gives the rope a yank, and you scowl, “You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

Your frown softens. His words still just as harsh, snarled out. But they’re a far cry from before.

Before, when you were certain he was going to hand you right back over to your Vault, in spite of how far you’ve come. Something significant passing in the journey through the desert, as he had taken what you wanted.

The taste of him has since faded, but he still lingers.

“Gotta earn your keep, too.” His head turns, eyeing you from beneath the brim of hat, “You good at anythin’?”

Unable to help it, you smirk - a brow raising. He scoffs in response, eyes narrowing.

“Anyone can be good at suckin’ cock, sweetheart.” He drawls, unimpressed, “’m not so bad at it, myself.”

Your lips part in surprise and he’s the one that grins, now.

The Ghoul picks up another bounty here. A shady, alley-way deal - keeping you close to his heels as he snatches the faded paper contact off a tattered board.

Running into another pair looking for jobs - a fresh scar splitting across the nose of a man who tries to start a conversation, before quickly retreating.

“Fuckin’ amateurs” muttered in reply to your heavy, silent judgement.

The client is tracked down for more information, after. Wasn’t hard to find the man with cage over the lower half of his face. Spikes that scream Raider with the way they jut through his clothes.

Fifty caps for the “goddamn no-good thief” that wiped out his stall in the night, taking every last bullet and can of cram. Last seen about two days ago, heading north.

Dead or alive, the client doesn’t care.

“Did you see ‘em?” The Ghoul frowns, “What they look like? Give me somethin’ to go off of.”

“Course I did,” The man huffs, “Looks just like me, don’t he? He’s my own damn brother.”

You can’t contain your own sideways look in disbelief, only to see The Ghoul returning it.

He bargains for a hundred, and gets it.

It’s hard not to wonder if he had taken your bounty this way. If your face had been scrawled across a piece of paper. Exchanged in a no-nonsense, disconnected way.

How much had your life been worth?

You never asked him. It’s something you’re not sure you even want to know.

The rest of the afternoon is spent stocking up. Caps exchanged for some more ammo. A couple bottles of watery chems, shoved deep in his bag to join the others.

A way the ease the cough that rattles him every few days. The smallest bottle kept out, wrenched open with a tight fist.

It snags at you - the way he swallows it like ambrosia the second he steps away. Gasping and groaning as if it’s air he needs to breathe.

“I’m good at medicine,” You tell his back - following again. Memories of the Vault pushing their way to the surface, “Could make that for you, if we find the stuff. Wouldn’t have to dilute it.” You almost run into him, with the way he’s gone still. The tilt of his head, a single sharp eye piercing through you under the brim of a hat.

Shifting over your shoulder. Narrowing.

His hand fists in the collar of your jumpsuit instead, hauling you down the nearest alley and into the shadows.

“Hey!” You protest, your back knocked against the wall. He cages you in, knuckles pressing into your jaw with his tight grip.

The vial is pinched between his fingers, dangled in front of your face.

“You can make this?” He confirms.

You’re able to confirm it now, never quite getting a good look before. RadAway. It would be simple, compared to some of the stuff you’d had to cook up.

“Get me to a lab, some supplies,” You nod, “And I will.”

“Huh.” He’s close - you can’t help squirming in his grip, as he considers you, “Ain’t that something.”

A second, before his grip eases - but he doesn’t let go. Your bound fists rest against his chest, but there’s no force behind them to drive him off.

“Could’ve just asked.” You huff, “You don’t have to man-handle me.”

He almost smiles - his voice coming low, with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t I?”

It flusters you, how his body presses against yours. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your chest brushing his with each short breath.

His thumb sweeps, ghosting against your skin. Those sunken eyes dropping to your collar, with a frown.

Another glance down the aisle, before they’re dragging over you - voice lowering.

“Need to get you out of this suit.”

His words make stiffen in his arms, a sharp inhale of anticipation.

“Not so smart, are you?” He husks, his gaze dragging from your parted lips, up to your eyes, “Runnin’ around like this. Downright advertising you’re a Vaultie, when someone’s lookin’ for you.”

He’s not wrong. He tracked you down easily enough. You nod is small, a pang of regret as his fingers drop - as he steps away.

“Come on, then. I know a place.”

The place is an old saloon, the windows blasted out over two centuries ago. The gutted insides filled out with a patched-up bar, the mended tables and scattered chairs filled with patrons. Rooms to rent lining the first - and second floor - if you were brave enough to risk the staircase.

A few stalls set up alongside a wall - a barber ran by a Mister Handy with a looping stutter, the second by another Ghoul. Her few racks are filled with a patchwork of fabric, all in stained and faded patterns.

He gestures, a tilt of his head at the racks, “Pick something out, quick like.”

You’d gape at him, if you weren’t afraid he’d change his mind. Serious about your suit - you’re quick to grab a shirt in your size with only two holes. A pair of trousers, a rip at the knee.

“This ain’t for you.” The Ghoul clarifies darkly in your ear, “This is a trigger-happy town. Don’t need to be wasting my bullets.”

You hum in agreement - undeterred by his tone. The package clutched to your chest as he hands over a couple caps. Stuck over a full two weeks now in the same suit - you’re itching for the soft cotton against the skin.

Turning to leave, but then you’re halting. A couple of the patrons look familiar, hovering just inside the door. Something about that scar-

You’re trying to recall, in the crowd of people you’ve seen today - when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Wheeling you around as the Ghoul turns to the shop owner.

“You got a room she can borrow?” There’s a change in his tone, almost a sticky-sweet edge to his drawl.

It must work - you’re shown to what used to be an old parlor room. An array of broken chairs, a heavy wooden table. The wallpaper torn and faded, the shades of cream long stained a dull, dirty yellow.

He fills the doorway - an arm propped against the frame, and you hold your wrists out to him dutifully.

You’ve worked at the knots before, to no avail - only to scowl now, as he undoes them easily with one hand.

A moment of silence hanging then, as you give him a pointed look - rubbing at sore wrists.

“You gonna leave so I can change?” You ask, “I’ll just be a second.”

The Ghoul steps forward instead, pulling the door shut behind him. An audible click, as he thumbs at the lock.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

A heat flares to life in your cheeks, “You’re staying?”

“That’s right,” He sinks into an old loveseat, propped up on concrete blocks near the boarded-up window, “Can’t leave you alone in a place like this. Fuckin’ vultures would swoop right in.”

You hesitate, watching him warily as an arm slings across the back, legs stretched out against the floor. If you didn’t know better then you think it was something almost akin to concern in his tone.

Or then again - he might just want to keep your bounty to himself. You had hoped you were past that, but-

“What?” His tongue pokes at his cheek, tone taunting, “Gettin’ shy again?”

The clothes are dropped unceremoniously on the table, your Pip-Boy following. A glare, as you reach for the zipper of your Vault Suit, starting to yank it down.

“Hey, now.” His hand raises, “Slowly. Got it?”

There’s an immediate urge to resist, to test him - but then, you’re catching the look on his face.

It’s hungry, beneath the brim of his hat. You start to feel like you did in the desert, and then the alley - intrigue, and desire, and an ache from his words, all melding together.

So, you take it slow. The zipper slipping from your throat, to breasts, then belly. A roll of your shoulders as you slip your arms from the tight sleeves.

His eyes follow, lingering on each inch of bare skin that’s revealed.

“Turn around.” He growls when you reach your hips, and for him - you do.

Bending at the waist as you unlace your boots and step out of them. Back arched as you wiggle, pushing the suit down past your knees. Down soft legs that part, so you can step out of them.

A glance over your shoulder, then. His head tilts, eyes sweeping from your ankles to fix on the crux of your thighs. They press together on their own, a thrill at being on display for him.

He catches you looking, his hand lazy as it drops to his lap. A lift of his hips as he adjusts, palming himself. The other hand leaving the revolver shotgun that rests on the cushion next to him.

Crooking two fingers at you, silently beckoning you over.

You fit between thighs that inch wider. His hands curl on his lap, before he’s slowly peeling his gloves off. Warm, against your hips, biting into your skin.

“Don’t make ‘em like you above ground anymore,” He idly comments, a flatness to his tone that betrays nothing.

Soft and smooth skin. You wonder if he’s thinking about ruining it - sinking his teeth in and taking a bite. Leaving a mark that you’ll carry.

You think you’d let him.

His grip dents your skin, before his hands are dropping. A heated look thrown your way, as his face tips up to yours.

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

It sends a heat rushing through you, knowing that he’s right. You’re locked in a room with the most dangerous man in the city, and it does something to you.

A boldness, in the way you reach behind. His growled out “fuck” when you let bra loosens - joining the blue and yellow suit on the floor.

The wood is rough under your knees. Letting your hands wander, lifting his hips while your work open his belt. Drawing down the rusted zipper.

You grasp at his hips, tugging the faded fabric until he’s free. Fingers tracing over thighs, just as rough and reddened at the rest of him. It’s still not much, but it’s more of him than you’ve ever seen.

Bare beneath the stained pants, cock already thick and full where it curves against his hip. All from just watching you - perhaps a strange thing to be proud of, but fuck, you are.

Your hands curl around his knees, as your head dips. Taking more time than you did before. Lips pressing against the taut base, as a hand twists in your hair again.

“Come on and thank me, sweetheart.” He growls - urging you upward, “Gettin’ those clothes for you. Make it worth my while.”

It’s different this time. A familiarity in the way your tongue presses against the flushed head. The taste of the salt on your tongue, before your lips are part around him.

A soft groan, when he’s filling your mouth again. You’ve thought about it often since last time. Wondering when he would have you on your knees again. If he’d want more, the next.

Your heartbeat thuds between your thighs, with the shift of his hips into your mouth - chasing his pleasure.

An urge to make him feel good. Without thinking - your hand wraps around his shaft, as your head eases back.

“Easy, now.” He grits, though his eyes are fixed on how your fingers curl around him. How it pumps, squeezing him with spit-slick fingers.

Jerking him into a mouth that parts so prettily for him. Your other hand slipping against his thigh, with feather-light brushes. A short inhale before you take him deep again, your fist sliding down to the base.

The next time you pull him from mouth for a breath, drool stringing from his cock to your lips, he hears himself growling out, “Stop.”

You’re being too tender, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Should have kept you bound, like last time.

The Ghoul’s fingers bite into your chin, your mouth glossy from how you swallowed him down.

“I’m taking you this time. Know you’ve been just aching for it.” He husks, his thumb pressing against your lip. Watching your tongue peek out to taste it, “Go on. Get up, and get your ass over to that table.”

Your desire nearly eclipses everything else. Pushing on his thighs for support, crossing the three steps to the side of the table.

“No,” He follows - the gun clattering on the table top, brought over from the couch. His hands at your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the door, “Right here, sweetheart. I’ll be keepin’ watch.”

It has you remembering where you are - that you’re just supposed to be getting changed. Wondering if you should worry that you don’t care - the thought of piping up, having the risk of losing this chance and denying pleasure again has you quickly adapting.

A hand presses at the small of your back insistently, bending you over it. You can feel him against the curve of your ass, sticky against your skin.

“Cross your wrists,” His thighs shift against yours, as you fix your hands that has flattened against the tabletop.

Making it easy for him to grasp at them with one hand - stretching them further, pressing them against the wood as he kicks your thighs further apart.

Leaving you on tip-toe, arched against him.

“Look at you, listening.” He almost coos, with another lazy rock. His cock shifts, fitting between your thighs, nudging against you.

“I think-” You start, but it’s punctuated by a moan, “Think you just like tying girls up.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” He drawls, “Though I don’t discriminate. Theres just something ‘bout havin’ you like this-”

The Ghoul leans over you then, his grip tightening. Pinning you firmly between him and the table, unable to do more than squirm as his free hand slips between your thighs, cupping you.

It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and your muscles string tight - trying not to buck into his palm. Against fingers that rub against your clit, pressing the sticky fabric to your skin.

“Fuck.” He rasps in your ear. Nails bite into your hips, as he tears the fabric down to your thighs.

Coming back to press against your bare cunt, fingers slipping against your folds. You’re unable to help the soft whimper as he parts you, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

“Please,” You whine, as he pets against you. Smearing your slick up to your clit again, his fingers parting just as he reaches it.

His cock presses against your leg, thick and stiff. A roll of his hips until it’s pressed snug against your cunt - jutting between your thighs just below his hand.

“Your pussy is downright leakin for me, sweetheart,” He growls, “You need it that bad?”

You whine, your head turning to look - watching how he arcs over you. That blown-wide look in his eyes again, as you nod.

There’s a split second as his hand leaves you, before it’s cracking down on the meat of your ass. You gasp in shock as you go still beneath him, the pain unexpected and swirling with your heady need.

“Say it out loud,” He barks out, “Tell me just how much.”

Your skin stings, his fingers twitch before he kneads roughly at the flesh - the burn of it akin to way you ache for him.

“I need it,” You keen, “Need your cock. Want you to fuck me-”

The words cut off - a rough hum of approval before he’s lining himself up, a hand curving to grip your hip. The other flexes around your wrist, before he’s driving himself deep with a single, powerful thrust.

Your cry is loud, this time. Low and rough, pushed from your lungs as your pussy makes room for him.

“Fucking christ, you’re tight,” He grunts, unable to help the shallow buck of his hips, “Better than my goddamn dreams.”

It makes you moan - the gritted-out admission not lost on you.

Even with how wet you are, you still feel like you’re stretched wide. An ache radiating through you, sparking to life as he inches out, only to plunge deep again. The table bites into your hips, back arching as he sets a rough rhythm.

The sharp twinge starting to fade, as you begin to accommodate him. Growing accustomed to the heavy weight of him inside you, the steady stroke against your walls that has you starting to clench down around him.

Your breathing grows shorter, faster. Face turning to bury in the curve of your shoulder, muffling the moans that are pushed from you - until his hand is leaving your hip, twisting in your hair with a sharp tug.

Forcing your head back, his grip anchoring you.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. Know you saw those eyes on you,” He’s lost the steady edge to his voice, words turning rough, “Go on, be loud.”

The Ghoul’s hips pound harder, the rough texture of his cock stroking deep. Each sending a current through you, leaving your fingers and toes flexing, aching for just a little bit more.

“Saw you come in with me. Show ‘em who you belong to.”

“Fuck!” You cry, wishing you had a name to scream. Unable to muffle your ragged breath, the moans he pulls from you.

It fills the room, melding with the slick punch of his cock into your wet and needy cunt. Better than before, because his hands are on you now - leaving your hair, blunt nails dragging down your back. Ghosting across your hip, where your skin presses into the wood.

“Touch me.” You beg, again, “Let me touch myself, I can’t-”

His hand withdraws, and you whine - backpedaling. Afraid that he’s going to pull from you, finish himself across your back or your ass for asking.

“Please. Fuck, please. Don’t, I’m so close-”

He groans at your plea through clenched teeth.

Releasing his grip on you, only for his hand to slide to the base of your throat. His other arm looping beneath you as he hauls you against him, flattening against your ribs.

Palming at a soft breast, as you’re pulled up and pressed flushed to his chest.

“Listen to you, miss manners,” He grins - teeth bared, “That’s more like it, honey.”

The bandolier cuts into your skin, the wood into your thighs. And change in the angle that has your cries growing louder as his cock pounds against a soft spot inside you. Warm breath ghosting against your neck, deep rumbling growls in your ear.

Everything fades, growing hazy. His fingers tighten, but not enough to fully choke the air from you. An implication - your own hands wrapping around his wrist to anchor yourself to him. 

You can hear him inhale you, the scrape of teeth against your skin above the heavy press of his fingers. Salvation in the way the hand splayed beneath your chest drifts lower, his voice smooth in your ear.

“This is for listening,” He husks, “You understand?”

Relentless, when his fingers press against your clit. Slick and circling until you’re grinding into his touch, meeting the hard slap of his hips.

The gasping chant of “fuck, fuckfuckfuck,  please-” turning into mindless whimpers, his rough rhythm growing sloppy.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” It’s a ragged sigh, “Feel your tight little cunt squeezing me. Gonna make a mess, sweetheart?”

It sounds muted, layering with a ringing white noise. Your nails bite into his wrists as the swiftly building tides breaks. Almost missing the sweet growl in your ear.

“Let them hear how a pretty thing like you sounds coming on a cock like mine.”

You do, with the next swirl of his rough fingers - the sound broken as he rips it from you.

Bearing down around the cock that fits so deeply into you, with each blissful pulse of your release. Forgetting about the rest - about the outside world - as your nerves alight with pleasure.

His hand drops from your throat to brace against the table. Bending you flat again as he feels you flutter and gush around his length, crushing you against the top as blunt teeth close against the pulse point of your throat, biting down.

The sounds of his own orgasm muffled - a ragged groan as his cock throbs, as he fucks himself deep into you. Tasting the salt of your skin as you yelp, clenching around him - milking him until your walls are coated with his spend.

He hadn’t meant to - but the urge to pull from you had wavered the moment he buried himself in your cunt. Abandoned completely, after feeling you come so sweetly around him. An instinct lingers even now - to enjoy the soft press of your body against his, your warmth.

You shiver as his lips brush your neck, the closest thing to an apology as you’ll get - before he’s pulling away from you, leaving you clenching and empty.

A ragged hand slips between your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Pleasure still radiating from your core as fingertips swipe through the come that is just starting to leak from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He laughs - the sound ragged, with a flash of yellowed teeth.

“Guess this means you better start cookin’.”

The Vault Suit is left beneath the table, a crumpled up reminder that you’re happy to leave behind.

Your cheeks burn as you leave the saloon - the strangers from before cleared out. A definite wobble to your steps - something that The Ghoul certainly notices, the low tilt of his hat hiding the curling pull of his lips.

Outlining the path towards the next bounty as you find your way out, guessing where you might find a lab along the way.

And it’s only as the city starts to fade, that you realize -

He never bound your wrists again, after.

I have the brainrot for this man for sure! Thank you for stopping by & reading 💖 (and I have also been reading so much about the new chem the Ghoul takes! For plot & smut reasons - I am going with RadAway, haha)

#please mind the tags! #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

[neptnszn]

waking up horny in the dead of night with SUGURU GETO as your boyfriend is actual hell sometimes

i just know that this man has the worst attitude when really tired. who can blame him? being a guy as hot as he is cannot be easy.

“girl—” suguru would grunt and turn back over after shaking him awake for dick. for dick. yeah self-inflicted really. other times he wouldn't say anything at all, just shoot you a nasty look.

but a girl has her needs.

“baby please?” you try again, perching your chin onto his buff arm. “the dream was a little too detailed.” a small pout forms on your puckered lips.

“that isn't my fault,” suguru counters, the soft bass in his voice resounding in your shared bedroom. “you couldn't have waited until there was light outside?”

you shake your head.

“must be tough. good night, sweetheart.”

this man. you groan out an exasperated ‘suguru!’ and curve over his form, staring at him as if he can see you through his closed eyelids.

“no, y/n.”

“i’ll top?”

you lied.

you knew damn well you couldn't be bothered to ride him to an orgasm at two in the morning and so did suguru. so when he scoffed and muttered “roll over.” you were grinning victoriously.

“I don't belive you.” suguru hissed, lifting up your hoodie over your hips and feeling up the skin of your ass.

“sorry, sugu’.” you're breathless already when he starts spreading the globes of your ass apart to take a good look at your cunt through low lidded eyes with the sleep and arousal still weighing them down. suguru merely tutted, wrapping a hand around his bobbing cock to push his tip in for the second time tonight.

you tensed as you sunk your head into the pillow in front of you. suguru had a big dick. you knew that much from the time you caught wind of what his attitude was like. nonchalant, quiet confidence, tall, pretty large hands. You'd be surprised if he didn't.

“y/n..if you don't relax. I can't move if you're trying to crush me.” you roll your eyes—so dramatic.

you ease up, but quickly choke on your breath when he slides all the way in, filling you with his thick inches. your pussy flutters at the intrusion, squeezing suguru again. “shiittt baby..” yeah—he undoubtedly missed that.

and when suguru sees your ass ripple and hips jump forward with every deep thrust, he suddenly thinks that he made a good decision.

but he was still fucking tired.

“mm-mm, don't run from me, sweetheart. you wanted me to give it to you, so take it—take this dick ‘fore I take it away.”

“you're so needy, can't even let a man sleep.”

“pretty girl just can't stop creamin’ all over me, so cute.”

“listen t'thaat, it's like your pussy's doin’ all the talking. have i made you dumb already, sweetheart?

for someone who’s so fatigued, he can't seem to shut up at all. mumbling and groaning nastiness all up in your ear like he's drunk on your pussy. suguru thinks he just might be.

he's got a firm grip on your hair and one digging into the fat of your hip, balls thwacking against your sticky cunt. suguru's strokes are mean, every ridge of his cock rubbing against your cushy walls. you're actually drooling, the dizzying mixture of exhaustion and pleasure making you float higher than the pearly gates. Yet with the way your hole squelches when he goes real deep..and his fat tip grinds on that one spot, you're going anywhere but heaven.

You don't even have to say it, suguru knows. suguru knows you're about to cum when he can feel you sporadically squeeze him and when your moans get longer and higher against the pillow you bury yourself into.

“gonna cum already?” he's giggling, the trembles of your ankles and the way your fist tightens not going unnoticed by him. “fuck me back, then. show me how bad you wanna cum on me.” he stops all motion before yawning out loud, a lazy hand reaching his face to cover his mouth. how sexy.

pressing your lips together, you brace your hands out in front of you and swing your ass back on suguru. you were on thin ice right now, and with his snarky attitude, he literally might just leave you high and dry.

your knees are unsteady and shaky but you persevere, looking over your shoulder to see jet black strands hang over his face and shoulders, and amber eyes steeled on where you two connect. his lips are parted slightly as he huffs out a gravelly groan.

“yeah, jus’ like that. fuck me.” suguru praises, words sliding over each other slightly. he picks up the pace again, balls tightening as his head hangs low. he listens to your drawn out moans, sounding more like broken sobs with each stroke he gives you and it makes him dizzy. “‘m gonna cum, i'm gonna cum.” he's whining now.

“inside, sugu’—don't stop!” you beg as you spasm around him, milking your boyfriend.

suguru huffs out a laugh, a lazy grin stretches on his lips. he loves seeing you needy and mind-fucked like this—it scratches an itch deep in his soul. “alright. stay still f'me sweetheart—gonna give it to ya how you like.”

a shattered whimper rips from your throat as he pushes his hips all the way forward, and rams himself all the way in so his cock bullies that spot, the one that makes your cunt gush.

“o-ohh, my god! right there..’s right there, ‘m gonna cuumm..” you wail but he shushes you, the volume of your moans making him wince.

“make a mess pretty girl,” he grunts before his jaw goes slack and ropes of his sticky load flood your cunt. “fuuuckk..” but he doesn't stop—he powers through his orgasm and into overstimulation. suguru smiles when your eyes roll back and your limbs go limp, wailling into the satin pillowcase as you cum and cream onto him.

you think you black out for a second with your ears ringing and heart hammering in your chest. knees falling flat, your entire body slumps forward into the mattress as the aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you like lightning. you could practically feel the beads of sweat sliding down your body underneath your hoodie.

when a warm and wet rag slides against your slit and inner thighs, you glance behind you and see an entirely spent suguru. he's continuously yawning while he pulls your flimsy underwear back up, before tossing the damp towel into the dirty laundry basket.

“thank you sugu’,” a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as he tucks you into his embrace, yet all suguru can do is scoff. you couldn't help but giggle at his annoyance, smiling like a cat who got the cream.

literally.

“next time, I'll just ignore you and get my well deserved sleep,” he spits, resting his chin atop your head.

totally worth it.

© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto smut #gojo smut #jujitsu kaisen smut #★—spicy ☄️ #★—neptnszn #i feel like this was very fast paced.