#i think that was the point where they got their heads out of their asses

[jarofstyles]

Coconuts

idk where this came from tbh but I loved how It came out. 95% smut but I know y'all will never complain about that so :p 

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WC-4.6k

Warnings- smut, teasing, slight public play If you squint, slight degradation, but lighter compared to our other stuff. Cute

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Y/N could feel his eyes on her as she walked back towards him on the beach, his sunglasses doing little to hide the stare down he was having with her body. She’d known that this bathing suit would probably make him a little handsy, but it had been vastly underestimated how much it would distract him. There was not a single word being absorbed around him and she sort of felt like prey as she made her way to the rented cabana, tummy rumbling with both nerves and anticipation.

“What’s this, darling?” He asked as she flipped her sandals off on the raised wooden platform to avoid the spread of sand the best she could. He’d beaten her out here to set up their towels and made sure the daybed was good to go, as Y/N couldn’t handle another full day in the sun and needed the coverage the cabana would offer. He was being a doting and sweet boyfriend and she’d been planning on making him crazy.

“Hm? Oh, I got us those drinks in the coconuts.” She hummed, handing him one. It was part of the charm, their vacation essential, but he didn’t give the drink a second look before placing it on the little side table offered with the package. A tingle ran up her spine as warm hands grabbed the back of her thighs, urging her to step between his spread thighs while his brows furrowed behind the tinted lenses.

“You know that’s not what m’talking about, love.” He winced slightly at the light as Y/N pushed the glasses up into his hair so she could see his mossy eyes, resting her hand on his warm shoulder before taking a sip from her drink. It was a coconut rum cream type of thing and she knew she was going to be wasted on these, but that was the point. Wasn’t it?

But she was playing coy, tilting her head to the side as she gave him a look. “What do you mean, then?” It was exciting to play games with him. To tease him. Harry was a passionate man with a lot of redeeming qualities, but he was the most fun to tease. To watch him narrow his eyes at her and think about how she was most definitely going to pay for it later. It spiked her adrenaline, heartbeat quickening as his hands moved over her ass and to her hips. His thumbs dug into the dips back there, a deep exhale leaving his mouth and washing over her bare belly, heat pooling between her thighs as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss right above her belly button.

“This bathing suit. I didn’t see you pack it.” He let her off the hook for playing dumb, rubbing his circles into the dips as he watched the corner of her lip temple as if trying not to smile. “I would remember a little thing like this. Barely fuckin’ there, is it?” His eyes found the tied strings at the sides of her waist. That was dangerous and the entire point. It was a deep red, the smallest thing she’d ever worn in public, and tied behind her neck and at her hips with flimsy strings. It was made to taunt him, make him needier than ever, and a bit of payback from the tiny yellow shorts he loved to wear. He knew just how much she loved his thighs and exactly what it did to her to see them exposed. Knowing what she liked to do on his bare thigh, right over the tattooed tiger.

“Oh, this old thing?” She smiled as innocently as she could. “It’s something from a few years back. I think my chest has gotten bigger since I originally bought it, but that’s not a problem… is it?”

“Actually,” Harry breathed. “It is.” He was quick to pull her into his lap, a squeak leaving her as he gave her a dark look. “Because you know exactly what this was going to do t’me and how it was going to make me feel, and you put it on anyway. You, you can hide when that perfect cunt gets wet and sticky. But me?” He glanced around before pulling her further over his lap so she could feel the growing bulge in his own bathing suit. “Can’t do much without scarring the rest of the people at this beach. You’re causing problems on purpose.” The voice he used was hushed and deep, going straight to her core. Of course it was the goal to get in trouble, but his reaction had been better than she anticipated. He shifted her slightly on his lap, subtly moving her over his length under the guise of adjusting her. “How do you think this is supposed t’get fixed? Want me to go have a wank in the restroom?”

“Nuh-uh.” She grinned. “I told you. I want all of you this trip.” Leaning to the side to place her own drink down, he hissed at the movement of her over his growing prick. “You’re not wasting a drop of you. It’ll get fixed, but m’not gonna rush off the beach before I’ve had my drink.” She shrugged, taking her hand that had been cooled by said drink to hold the side of his neck. There was a lot more satisfaction than she could admit when she saw him shiver at the temperature change. “This is my payback for those stupid yellow shorts you wore yesterday.”

Harry knew she could be vengeful. This cat and mouse game that had been him pursuing her had bled into the relationship and he loved that she liked to tease- but he loved that she was seeking a punishment out of it. “You know what I did in return for that?” He clicked his tongue. “I took you to the dressing area and fingered you until you dripped down my fingers. Had to hold your loud fucking mouth quiet, but I took care of it.” It wasn’t doing much good to think of it, especially considering his current predicament of trying not to get painfully hard, but it was one of his favorite things they’d ever done. Making Y/N melt into a desperate, horny mess had been one of his favorite pleasures in life, but knowing she was too needy to wait had stroked his ego.

The roles reversed, though? He wasn’t too sure. It would be noticeable if she was on her knees in the dressing tents, not just looking like an innocent couple leaving more tents open by changing under the same curtain. Her chest was distracting. It was glistening from the aftermath of freshly applied suncream, her breasts on full display and hanging just the way he liked. This bathing suit was his personal heaven. Or hell. He hadn’t quite decided yet.

“So how are you going to take care of me?”

Y/N knew she had been a little cruel, sure, but she could still feel the slight ache from how he’d fucked her last night. She wanted it again, but harder. He’d been a little soft beforehand and she figured he’d make use out of a little motivation.

“Aw, my poor baby.” She cooed, stroking his jaw as it clenched. “Getting hard for me. Can’t help it when you see my tits, hm? Or is it all of it?” There was a moment she pretended to think while he glared at her. “Probably all. But I’m not extremely cruel, Harry. Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. You failed to mention that you made me wait 3 hours until you took care of me.” It felt longer. “So we’re going to sit on this beach for 2. I’m going to have my drink, read my book, enjoy the warm breeze, and you’re going to sit with me. Then we can go back to the villa and you can do as you please.” She hummed, placing a wet kiss to his forehead before standing up from his lap. A towel was tossed his way, which he failed to catch because he was trying to pull her back into his lap. “Use this to hide yourself.” The smugness she felt was unmatched as she grabbed her book and found her way to the other side of the daybed, laying on her back to start the hardest reading session of her life.

—--

Harry didn’t make it easy on her. Not that she thought he would, considering she knew both of their histories of being menaces when in the mood, but she hadn’t expected to be so heavily affected by simple touches.

His fingers drew circles over her exposed hip as he spooned her, pretending to read over her shoulder. Quiet breaths puffed over the side of her neck as he nuzzled into her, sponging kisses there like clockwork. It was chaste enough that she couldn’t really scold him for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make her throb between her legs. It was her fault, she was torturing her own self with drawn out foreplay. Y/N rarely ever made Harry wait for it- she was far too greedy- so she struggled with holding her guns as she felt his fingers move further down to the bottom of her stomach, thumbing over the top of the little bathing suit bottoms.

It was a miracle she’d survived that far, and despite it only being an hour and 42 minutes, she thinks that it was good enough.

Pushing her into the villa, Harry’s hands rushed to tug the strings off of the suit, starting with the bottoms. “You evil little thing.” He growled against her mouth, pressing her up against the door as the red fabric fell to the ground and his hand slipped between her thighs. “What was the point of that, hm? You like being bad, pissing me off?” Fingers slid between her swollen, soaked folds and coated his skin just the way he knew it would. “Tortured yourself too. Could have just told me you wanted me to fuck you again and we could have spent the day in here.”

Y/N whined as she felt a digit sink into her, leaning further back against the door as he moved it slowly in and out of her. His fingers were thicker than her own, longer, making it much easier for him to reach places she couldn’t when she pleasured herself. His hands had always been a weakness for her, knowing how skilled he was in using them to create both art and pleasure. Coaxing the perfect orgasms from her since he’d met her. “Y-You teased me first.” She huffed, eyes fluttering as his mouth sucked over a part of her jaw that he knew would make her weaken. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to be a big girl and tell me what you wanted, rather than parade around in this slutty little bathing suit and make me wait two hours before I could do anything about it.” He grumbled, teeth scraping over skin making her whimper. “I expected you to keep me in bed and spread your gorgeous thighs for me and tell me that you’re the neediest little thing, and you want my cock. I would have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, you chose to be a fucking brat. Because if you wanted to work me up, if you wanted me to be frustrated? It worked.” His opposite hand came down on her bare ass, the slap resonating through the villa and sting making her gasp. “What was the end goal?”

His finger was joined by another, making her eyes flutter and her brain slow down a little bit. He knew what he was doing- he always did. “Just wanted you to feel… to feel like I did. You made me wait and…” Her voice trailed off as it bled into a moan, his fingers hooking just so to hit the spot she needed.

“And?” He asked expectantly. “And what, sweetheart. Because I recall taking care of you. Even soaking, no one could tell. But everyone would be able to see my dick if I didn’t have that towel. Is that what you wanted? Wanted everyone to see me?”

“No!” She hissed. “No it’s- It’s mine. I just wanted, I wanted you to feel what I felt.” Her head fell back against the door with a thump, spreading her legs a bit more. Harry knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly what to do to make her weak. His quickening fingers and his hand gripping the side of her ass, he was making her see that she was definitely going to pay for it. “You’ve been driving me crazy the whole vacation and I… fuck.” Her words trailed off, the feel of the heel of his hand tapping against her clit with his thrusts making her brain fuzzy.

“You think you haven’t been driving me insane this whole time?” He asked, tone incredulous. “Think I havent been losing my fucking mind watching you walk around in these little bathing suits and sundresses? Think I haven’t had to be mindful of what m’wearing or what we’re doing because all I want to do is bend you over and hike up those dresses or pull down those bottoms and sink right back where I belong?” His voice hissed against her ear as he kissed over the side of neck, the sloppy pecks making her breathing pick up. “Because I have been fucking insane, I’ve been trying to be decent and make sure m’not hogging you in bed and let you go to the beaches and to the shops and to dinner, but I’d be perfectly happy with you in here, with our view of the ocean and you warming my cock.”

Y/N could feel herself getting close. It was hard not to with how worked up she’d gotten trying to tease him, the way he was talking to her, how his fingers always managed to coax the orgasms out of her faster than anyone else- including herself- ever had. “I would have- I would have, I want that, please.” She begged, which Harry knew all too well what that tone of voice meant. She was deliciously close, the slick of her arousal dribbling down his hand and she was just right there-

And he stopped. Y/N whined, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at him in disbelief. He was so generous with her pleasure that she hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest.

“If you hadn’t been a brat, maybe I would have let you.” He took his fingers from her, bringing them up to his mouth and made a show of licking them clean. Running them over his tongue with a soft hum and making a show of it as she scowled. “Mmm, none of that, my angel. You’ll get what you want. Just be patient.” Without another word he lifted her up, making her squeal as she was carried across the place before being deposited in the bed. Seeing as he was shirtless still, it was quick work to get himself naked, shorts kicked off to the side as he crawled up the bed and found her mouth right away.

She could taste herself on his tongue as he kissed her deeply, fingers finding the knots behind her neck to undo the swimsuit. It was quick work to pull the cups down, exposing the soft chest he had been obsessed with since day one. Pulling away with wet lips, he looked down at her exposed breasts, pebbled nipples calling to him as he grabbed under her arms to pull her up on the bed and stayed right where he was. “You know how cruel it is to have these right in front of my face, unable to do a thing?” His hushed words made her nod. She did know, she knew exactly how much he loved her chest and just how crazy it would drive him. “I know you did, pet. You know how much I fucking love your body.” His fingers plucked both nipples, squeezing lightly to make her gasp.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling the heat throbbing even hotter as she looked at her. There was something in his eyes, the full lust, the desire and hunger that made her feel like the most desired person in the world. Like no one else could compare. Harry had the ability to make her feel as if she was the only one he’d ever had eyes for, the only one he ever would. She wanted to be his forever, hold on to this feeling and let it grow. “I’m sorry, I just wanted you.” Her whine was cute, he thought, but the apology didn’t cut it.

“I don’t think you are, my love. But you will be.” The man’s tongue brushed through the valley between her breasts, tasting the salt of her skin and the ocean air as it moved to the right one. He was getting her wet as he trailed down to her nipple, moving his fingers out of the way so he could do his job.

If you asked Harry if he was an ass or breast man, he’d tell you he was both- but he had a significant soft spot for Y/N’s chest. He’d been obsessed since the first time he saw her, but more so the first time she took her shirt off and let him suck on her. She was so sensitive, the little whimper she let out proving it as her fingers threaded into her hair and she pushed him further into the soft flesh. Hips moving while she tried to grind against his thigh feeling his lips pull more of her nipple into his mouth and sucked on the raised skin.

“Fuck me.” Y/N breathed, Harry’s thigh giving her a bit of mercy as he pressed it against her cunt. It limited how high she could move her hips, but he didn’t stop her from rubbing against him. His lips pulled and sucked, swirling his tongue over the nipple as he groaned against her breast. She could feel his cock against her thigh, feel it leaking over her skin and felt the desperation rising in her stomach to get him inside. She craved it just as much as he did, and had half a mind to demand him to make good on his promise of keeping him tucked inside of her so they could go again and again and again. It was an addiction, how his body made her feel. Desperate and needy, wet and achy, she had the best man to take care of her but he loved to fucking tease. “Inside me, please. I’ll be good, you can do it hard, I just need it. M’empty.”

Harry ignored her, pulling off of her right nipple and switching to her left. This time, though, he kept his eyes open and watched her face scrunch up with pleasure. It was able to be felt smeared all over his thigh as she ground herself against it, making a mess of him before he was even inside of her, but he loved it. Making her this desperate was his favorite thing to do and it wasn’t hard. His girl was sensitive and needy and he took pleasure in making her teary and begging for him. It was his payback.

Y/N mewled as his teeth scraped over the swollen nipple, hips jerking and hands tugging sharply at his hair which only spurred him on further. Sucking harder on the bud and making her keen out loud, hips bucking into the air before he finally released her. If he did too much he could probably make her finish from that, but that was something he wanted to try another day. His dick had been throbbing for hours now, and he wanted some relief.

“Lay on your stomach.” He ordered, watching her scramble to listen. He had gotten his point across and he knew it, a self satisfied smirk coming on his face as he pulled his briefs down and gave himself a few tugs. She laid down just as he said, her cheek to the pillow as she looked back at him with a soft pout on her lips. His sweet girl, desperate for his cock but trying to make it up to him now for being a tease. “Looks like you can listen. I’m so proud of you.” He crooned, kneeling on the bed and finding himself between her spread legs. “Ass up for me, darling girl. Let me see.”

She did as asked again, shuffling her knees so she was spread and tilted up for him. Her cunt was dripping and hot, empty and aching for him to fill her. Her plan had backfired significantly but at the end of the day, all she wanted was his cock. That’s been the goal this whole time. “Please. I need it, H.” She whispered, gripping the white sheets. “Give it to me. I can take it. M’sorry for teasing you.”

“I’m sure you are.” His hand spread her ass open, spitting over her hole and letting it drip down to her swollen clit where he took the tip of his cock and spread it all over her. “You know, I had a plan t’punish you even more, but.. Turns out, I’m fucking weak for this cunt.” He sighed, pushing the head into her and watching it stretch her a little bit. “I’m just as greedy for it. So m’gonna be nice to you and give you what you want, but I’ll remember this later.” His head pulled forward as he sunk deeper in, the hot channel making his brain go a bit fuzzy.

“Fuck, you’ve got perfect pussy, baby.” His tough exterior faded as his hips met her ass, exhaling sharply. “Can’t resist it. Make me a fucking mess every time.” The warm air flowed into their villa through the open door with the sea view, making him pause. Leaning down, he wrapped a hand around her throat and pulled her up to look at it, letting her shaky arms hold herself up as he began to thrust into her welcoming cunt. “Look at where I’ve brought you, baby. Beautiful views, but… This one will always be my favorite.” Lips brushed her ear as the sloppy sound of her soaked cunt being fucked by his prick filled the room. “Seeing you take my cock is my favorite thing. Most beautiful thing in the world, love that you let me own you like this.” His lips pressed against her cheek as she moaned. The firm grip around her throat had her fuzzy, this position making him feel so goddamn deep that she could barely breathe.

“I love it, I love you. Love your cock, love how you make me feel.” She babbled. “Just… Don’t pull out. Please.” Her begging seemed to spur him on, the slap of skin against skin getting louder while he fucked into her. The man was always greedy for her but his sexual frustration was showing, not at all going easy on her. It wasn’t mean, it wasn’t punishment, but pure lust. This was need, and Y/N was happy to be on the receiving end of it.

“M’not going to, baby. Promised you that you could have every drop.” He was nearly purring, breathing a bit heavy but more than satisfied as he fucked into her over and over again. “That’s a lot of love, but m’happy to hear it. Just want to make you happy, make you feel amazing. Don’t have to tease me to have my cock next time… just have to ask me in that pretty voice and give me those gorgeous eyes and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Y/N nodded even though his words sort of went through her. His slight adjustment to his position had him hitting the spot he needed to hit and she was making a fucking mess. She knew she was, hearing the wet sound increasing as he cursed under his breath. It was hard for her not to shudder as she gushed around him, feeling his balls tap against her clit as her watery eyes were forced to look out to the ocean. No words could leave her besides his name and a string of moans. His name was the only important thing, according to her brain.

“Got your cunt all sloppy for me… god, baby… I love you.” He moaned, feeling a little wrecked as he took a glance down to see himself covered in her. Wet and glistening from her how good he was giving it to her, it was another one of his favorite views. “Love my sweet girl and her sweet pussy, m’gonna give it to you over and over… fuck, you’re going to make me cum.” It was hard to keep holding on. Her skin was hot and he could feel he ragged breathing against his palm, her pulse thundering against his fingertips as he worked his prick into her weeping hole. “Never going to stop makin’ love to you, my perfect girl.”

Her orgasm surprised them both. He felt it come on as she whimpered his name, rippling against his cock and squeezing him hard as she shuddered underneath him. Her body fell forwards on the bed and he was done for, releasing her throat to fall on top of her and give a few more sloppy thrusts. A guttural groan left his throat as he buried his face into her neck, feeling his cock pulse and balls tighten as he unloaded inside of her. Keeping himself buried as promised, he ground himself as deep as he could and let it stay deep as his hips twitched, breathing heavy and hot against her skin. “Shit- god.” He croaked, pressing a sloppy stream of kisses from her neck to her cheek. “Fucks sake. Knew I wasn’t going to last a long time but, christ.” A drunken laugh left his throat as she hummed, turning her face with a pout.

“Kissy?” She whispered, lips puckering and effectively making his heart melt. He’d never say no to a kiss from her. It was an immediate wish granted, leaning closer to kiss her but making them both moan as the shift made his cock push further into her. He didn’t break away for a few moments though, pressing sticky pecks to her lips and sighing happily once she laid her cheek back on the pillow.

“Have a really hard time saying no t’you, sweetheart.” He admitted, keeping his face in her neck as he tried to recover.

“Good.” The girl’s voice was still a little shaky. “So you’ll go get me another coconut drink before we go again?”

“Again?” He laughed against her skin, biting down gently to make her yelp. “Fucking minx, my lovely little slut. Course she wants t’go again. I shouldn't have given you the benefit of the doubt. You’re my greedy girl.” Though no one would ever hear Harry complaining about that. His recovery time may need a bit of work if they were going to spend all day here though. “I’m gonna say yes, but only because I want you to lay here and keep my cum inside you.” The man was definitely catching her onto her neediness. “As hot as it is when it drips down your thigh, we don’t want to waste any. So lay here and be pretty for me while I go get you that silly little drink. M’not gonna go as easy next time.”

“Sounds perfect.” The giggle was music to his damn ears. “But don’t forget the cute little umbrella, kay? Need it to be part of the experience.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry fluff #harry smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfics

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

#THINKING ABOUT……..….....….BIG DUMB IDIOT MEN AND OPEN-MOUTHED KISSING 💔💔 #AND A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED #COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT #A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT #AND THE RADIO UUUUUUUUP 😫 #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic

[virginsexgod69]

Hi!! I love ur work for Daryl. I was wondering if you could write a daryl dixon oneshot where maybe him and the reader find an abandoned tattoo parlor while out on a supply run and reader gives him a tattoo and eventually that leads to smut! 🩷

❝ Inked ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

cw established relationship, smut, unprotected p in v, pet names, pussy eating, needles (for tattoos), idk how to do tattoos so i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies

note omg i had a jolly good time writing this! tysm for the request =] i did lowkey tweak it slightly, but nothing major, i pinky promise

2.1k words

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can get outta this place,” you commented as you placed the only can- a can of cranberry sauce from who knows how long ago- into your backpack. You looked around, only seeing more bare shelves and Daryl. You smiled, a natural reaction you had whenever you saw him. He wrapped his strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you close before placing a kiss to your hairline. 

“We should take a look a’ these other stores ‘fore we start headin’ back,” he suggested as he guided you out the store, arm still wrapped snugly around you. You nodded your head in silent agreement, following beside him. It was hard to tell what most of the other buildings were since they were all dirty with broken or boarded up windows, but one in particular caught your eye. 

“Hey, look! A tattoo shop,” you pointed at the building, “Let’s go check it out!” You hurried toward it, semi-dragging Daryl with you. 

“The hell we gonna find at a tattoo shop?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused at why the hell you’d wanna go. 

“Hopefully more than some nasty ass canned cranberry sauce.” He couldn’t disagree with you there, so he fell in line with your fast paced steps toward the shop. 

 You both entered the shop with knives drawn in case any walkers decided to stumble out of the shadows. Nothing came when the two of you made noise in an attempt to draw them out, so you sheathed your knife and went all the way inside, Daryl in tow. The shop was small, which allowed the sunlight shining through the window to fill it. The walls were covered in framed pictures of tattoo designs, although they were covered in dust. The shop itself was in fairly good shape, considering. You and Daryl split off in different directions in search of anything that could be brought back to the prison. You couldn’t find anything that wasn’t tattoo related, which wasn’t surprising since this was a tattoo shop. What you did find, though, was a lot more exciting. Everything that you would need to do a tattoo was all there, right in front of you. 

“Find anything?” Daryl asked once he found you again. 

“Yes and no?” 

“Wha’s that s’pose to mean?” He asked. 

“There’s still everything here to do tattoos with, isn’t that cool?” 

“We gon’ get matchin' tattoos or somethin’? He teased. 

"Not a bad idea, Dixon," you mused. You patted the seat and he sat down after setting aside his crossbow and got comfortable. You thought about what to put on him. You had so many ideas that you may as well have had none. 

"Wha's goin' on in there?" he asked. It was something that he'd say whenever he noticed you deep in thought. 

"I don't even know what to put on ya," you admitted as you traced lazy lines on his bare arm with your finger, "or where to put it."  Your face brightened when an idea finally passed through your head. You grabbed his arm and turned his hand to face upward before wiping a spot on his wrist clean with the alcohol wipe you got lucky enough to find. You unpackaged a needle before dipping it into the ink cap. Since there wasn't any power, you'd have to do a stick and poke. You were vaguely familiar with them from a time of experimentation during your teen years. With your non-dominant hand, you stretched his skin before getting to work on your design. You could feel Daryl trying to take a peek at what you were doing, but you purposely blocked his view with your head each time. You worked slowly and carefully, doing your best to make something cute despite not even being an amateur. 

“Okay, you can look now,” you muttered timidly as you handed him back his arm. You weren’t sure if he’d like it or not and were starting to regret not finding a pen and making a sketch to run by him for approval first. But, it was too late now and all you could do was hope for the best. He brought his wrist closer to his face to get a better look. It was simple, a small love heart with his first initial plus yours. It looked like something a girl would doodle in her notebook while daydreaming about her crush. 

“S’cute,” he said as he admired the tattoo with a small, but genuine, smile on his face. His bright blue eyes looked up at you, filled with all the love and adoration in the world. “I love it.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. “You wanna gimme a matching one?” You joked, referencing his earlier comment. He glanced out the window, the sun was setting and it was likely you and him would have to spend the night here if he and you stayed for one more tattoo. Some privacy with you, alone, away from everyone at the prison sounded like heaven, and matching tattoos were a bonus. 

“Sure.” He got out of the seat and you got in. 

“You wan’ it in the same place?” 

You thought about it for a second. “I want it somewhere special, in a place for only you to see.” The rosy tint that blossomed on his cheeks wasn’t missed by you. You found it endearing how he sometimes grew flustered at your flirtation, despite it being nothing new. 

“Yeah? Where’s that?” He asked. 

“I dunno, Daryl. You pick,” you insisted with a smug look upon your face. He made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and you lifted your hips to assist him in pulling them down all the way to your ankles. He stepped away and grabbed a new needle and ink. With another alcohol wipe, he cleaned a spot on your inner thigh before comfortably situating himself on his knees between your legs. You felt the small, frequent pokes of the needle as he got to work on the tattoo. Seeing him on his knees between your thighs made your stomach flutter. You knew that was his favorite place to be and having the tattoo there seemed like he was marking it as his own. As he was working, his hand accidentally brushed against your clit, eliciting a whine from you. He paused his work and glanced up at you, struggling to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. You avoided his eye and he got back to work, but his hand bumped your clit more often. Each time left you desperate for more. You so badly wanted to close your legs and rub your thighs together or reach down and get yourself off, but you had to stay still. His hand brushed against you once more, causing you to squirm a little. 

“Keep still.” 

You glared down at him. “I’m trying to, but you keep-” He did it again and this time you were one hundred percent sure it was on purpose. Grumbling under your breath, you leaned back against the seat and did your best to keep still as he finished up. Once he was done, he wiped off the excess ink. 

“We should probably secure the place since we’re gonna be spendin’ the night here,” he suggested. 

“But Daryl,” you whined, “you can’t just leave me like this. You knew what you were doing earlier!” 

"Wha? Givin' you a tattoo?" You huffed and rolled your eyes and reached down to pull your pants back up, but he stopped you. 

"I'm jus' playin' darlin'. Sit back." He gently pushed you back into the chair before getting back on his knees. Slowly, he pulled your panties down to your ankles with your formerly discarded pants and yanked them both off over your shoes. He firmly gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the seat and placed your legs over his shoulders. Feeling his hot tongue lick up and down your soaked slit had you gripping the arm rests for support. With his thumb, he rubbed slow, teasing circles on your hard clit. His tongue was a welcome intrusion in your soaked entrance. You gasped and moaned out his name and your hands flew to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his soft locks. This motivated him to rub faster circles on your clit, earning more gasps and moans from you. His tongue thrusted in and out of your dripping cunt as he tasted all of your juices, refusing to let any go to waste. You tugged his hair as your thighs involuntarily clamped around his head and he moaned unexpectedly, the vibrations from it bringing you closer to the edge. Your walls clenched around the pink muscle as he focused it on that one spot that always did things to you. 

"Daryl, please! I'm so close," you whined, desperate for him to bring you to your orgasm. If he weren't trapped between your plush thighs, he would've talked you through it, but instead he moved his lips to your clit and started sucking on it while prodding the bud with his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut as the white hot waves of pleasure overtook your body. Daryl worked faster once he felt you tense up and your thighs convulsing around his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair as your toes curled. You could the vibration of his pleasured grunts against your soft flesh. 

"I'm gonna-" your back arched and head fell back as he pushed you over the edge, immersing you in a world of pleasure. He continued to lap at your pussy as you rode out your orgasm. Once you came down from that high, you relaxed and slumped against the chair. Daryl reluctantly freed himself from between your thighs since he needed to catch his breath again. His dick was straining against his pants with how hard he was just from hearing your sounds of pleasure and tasting your pretty pussy. And now, just seeing your fucked out face made him want to cum in his pants. 

 In one quick swipe, he cleared a nearby table of all its supplies. He picked you up from the chair with ease, tossing you over his shoulder before gently laying you onto the table. He made quick work of freeing his erection from his pants and stroked it a few times, causing precum to bubble up on the angry red tip. He lined it up with your slit, rubbing it up and down your slick folds teasingly. 

"So wet fer me, baby," he groaned as he lined himself up with your needy hole. You wrapped your legs around his hips, desperate for him to fill you up. Your body welcomed him as he slid in easily. 

"Yer takin' me so good, sunshine." He leaned down and connected his lips with yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue. His tongue danced with yours as you kissed each other passionately. Large, rough hands palmed at your clothed tits as he started thrusting into you. Frustrated with your shirt, he hurriedly pulled it over your head before attaching his lips to your neck, roughly sucking and biting your skin. His tongue slid over your carotid artery, feeling how fast your heart was beating. You clumsily tugged at his shirt and vest, a silent plea for him to take them off, which he did. When he was with you, his insecurities were non existent. You tightly gripped his shoulders, nails digging hollow indents into his skin as he increased the pace of his thrusts. 

"Feel so good," you slurred. He kissed open mouthed kisses down your body, occasionally leaving marks in his wake. You squirmed and moaned beneath him, your second orgasm approaching fast. He was close too, you could feel it in the way  his cock twitched inside you and his pace became slower snd less rhythmic. 

"I'm boutta cum, baby," he groaned. You wanted to tell him you were, too, but your mind was a jumbled mess that was drunk off his cock. When your second orgasm came, your walls tightly hugged his shaft, squeezing him closer to his own climax. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself the rest of the way. His mouth fell open and eyes rolled back as he shot white hot ropes of cum all over your naked body. 

 He collapsed into a nearby chair, panting for air. You slid off the table and joined him in the chair by sitting on his lap. Both your bodies were coated in the thin sheen of sweat as you held each other close as exhaustion took over your bodies. 

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[ganondoodle]

I probably still wouldn’t have been a big fan of the game, but I don’t think I would have been NEARLY as upset about TotK if BotW didn’t seem like it was so obviously setting up plot points for a sequel. Like, you’re very clearly MEANT to wonder what malice is, and how Ganon became the Calamity instead of just the Demon King. Fi is awake again, where are they going either that? What’s the deal with the Triforce-shaped symbol on Zelda’s hand? There were a LOT of other things like that, and many of them had to do with overarching lore for the series.

I get it if they want to reboot the series, but “BotW 2” was the single worst game you could have done that with. It could have been an amazing conclusion to the original continuity.

EXACTLY, you, you get it

botw felt like the introduction to a vast world with secrets and hints to things that were planned to become a bigger thing- a big giant game as a big giant set up, and then ... like totk likes to do alot, it lacks a pay off, and that is something it even does within itself, cosntantly, set up and no pay off, or set up and the most boring and uninspired pay off you can really not even call that, from the bigger things like the whole dragon thing being hammered into your head as irreversible and then it IS reversible.. out of nowhere without you having to do fuck all, the whole thing with the ancient hero beign a big mystery with lots of interesting ideas attached and then its some weird ass dog creature that doesnt resemble any other race with, of course, sonau armor, bc there nothing that isnt sonau in that game, even finding the old treasure maps you can find that then lead to amiibo stuff from botw id call that

botw wasnt that great with rewards either but exploring the world and wondering about those, surely intentionally, placed mysterious and intriguing designs and places did alot for making it so interesting to think about, totk fumbles it all and even the new stuff doesnt even come close to that environmental storytelling botw was so great at, sonau ruins? ha they look entirely different than in botw actually, bc those were built by hylians you see, the actual sonau stuff is in prime condition considering the time thats passed and its all the same blank blocky blocks that serve no purpose but to be a place for you to find a thing or exchange some currency- the most you can think about it is ... that the sonau hollowed out the entire underground of hyrule, every inch of the map, ... which is WEIRD and doesnt exactly make them look that good but ... thats all there is

at least with the shiekah it made somewaht more sense and it felt much less .. invasive? and you didnt have anyone from that time to talk to, other than dead monks whos only purpose is to give you their last piece of their own spirit, but in totk ... raurus ghost and mineru too are both just there to talk to but DONT tell you shit but vague hints that were already clear, the sky islands used to be on the ground? oh you dont say, you see them there in the stupid memories! and dont get to know how they got up there and theres nothing that can clue you in to that, its just sonau magic yet again i guess

dont even get me started on the whole malice/miasma thing, it made so much SENSE that there was a source of it, someone that has keep kept in a horrible place just between life and death for thousands of years trying to break free by their hate and anger manifesting to such a degree its literally spilling out and building creppy eyeballs, mouths and ribcage like structures like they are trying to rebuild themsleves outside of their awful prison no one knows about is so damn compelling, but no, actually, the guy trapped there was the msot evilest evar, was sealed bc him evil and no other motive, and the previously mentioned stuff is pretty much utterly unceonnected, and his magic beign miasma with red instead of pink and no creepy body parts was the true version of it, that pink one was its own thing heehooo SHUT UP argh

it doesnt help that really, i dont feel like the sonau were set up either, they were a tiny part in botw, really only serving to make the world seem more ancient and more full of history, having ruins from a past civilization there you know nothing about and cant find out more is so good, its compelling and sad and makes the world feel more real, just shoving them into everything, being the center of attention all of thes udden and not even the architecure fitting feels so ... forced, i really truly believe the og sonau werent meant to be more than that, but in their fear of the game being too similarly looking like botw they took the sonau to replace the shiekah with them- imo the shiekah were the ones set up to be deeper explored in botw, with their whole misstreatment by the royal family in the past, monk miz kyoshia reacting the same way a yiga commander would was deliberate and brings up even more interesting ideas, the comments about where the mysterious energy the ancient shiekah used to power everything being concentrated in certain regions?? thats a big ass set up, the fact that the center of what is signaling everything to reactivate being below hyrule castle? the fact the whole arena thing was BUILT INTO THE CASTLE or it on top of it is so??? cool??? and sso damn intriguing, we are scratching the surface of their history- but then no, actually, the sonau are the cool new shit those other ones just uh ... disappear, also the sonau did everythign the shiekah did but even better wayy before them haha

its like they didnt want to tackle the more complicated stuff with the shiekah, their relationship to the royal family and how the yiga ... have a point and a good reason- so they replaced them with entirely new purely goodest good guys that did the same stuff before them with none of the history attached :))

this is why im so insistent on it not really being a sequel, thers no follow up on anything that was set up, NOTHING, and no, a couple having a kid now or whatever isnt a follow up on an interesting set up, how hard is it to understand that-

.... listen to me rambling, you probably know all that already nhjdfkbnkd

(i know i always bring up the shiekah but ... they were so central in botw, while also not taking up every single corner- unlike some other ones >_____>, with so much interesting stuff to connect and think about, i cared about them so much i felt kicked down the stairs by their treatment in totk)

#ganondoodles answers #ganondoodles rants #zelda #totk #totk critical #maybe its jsut me that feels so strongly about the unanswered stuff around the shiekah #but im #biting wood and clawing up the walls in my head

[wosoimagines]

Ease Up

part 1 of rivals one-shots

a different look at breakfast one morning at camp.

904 words

set during part 3 of rivals

“Look, you need to ease up on the kid.” 

Hope, Carli, and Christie all looked up at Alyssa. It was clear to all three about who the goalie was talking about. Especially since Jo hadn’t come down to eat yet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hope said as she turned back to her plate. 

Alyssa slammed her hands onto the table causing the others in the room to grow quiet and look over where the normally quiet goalie was standing. 

“I’m serious, Hope. Jo’s tearing herself apart,” Alyssa said as she leaned down closer to the table. She didn’t exactly need the whole team knowing about how Jo was struggling. “She’s putting the entire blame of the U-20 team not winning on herself.” 

“Good. It’ll be a wakeup call. If she’s not good enough for them, then she isn’t good enough for us.” 

Neither Carli nor Christie could have guessed that Alyssa would be the one to lunge toward Hope to pull her up by the front of her shirt. Hope immediately tried to shove Alyssa back, but Alyssa wasn’t going to let Hope be the reason that Jo ended her career early. 

“You’re gonna ease up on the kid,” Alyssa hissed as she ignored the countless arms trying to pull her away from Hope. “I swear, Hope, if you don’t make Jo realize that you were just being a dick to her, I’m the one you’ll have a problem with.” 

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Alyssa nor Hope drew their eyes away from the other even with the added presence of their teammates. 

“Hey, Alyssa,” Christen said as she put a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

“Hope’s being a dick to Jo and I’m not letting it stand anymore.” 

The rest of the room froze. Everyone was aware of how competitive Hope and Jo were with each other, but no one thought it was getting to the point where Alyssa, of all people, would snap at Hope. Becky, sure, but not Alyssa. 

“Jo’s putting all of the blame on herself about the loss in the finals and a lot of it is because of Hope. She thinks she has to prove herself to Hope even though Hope’s never been able to stop her,” Alyssa said. Hope reached out to try to shove Alyssa back again, but the other keeper kept herself planted. “She’s a kid, Hope. She should be worried about her friends and school and who she’s going to prom with, not trying to impress you so that you’ll finally accept her on the team. I’m not going to let her run herself into the ground trying to impress someone who’s being an ass to her.” 

“Alyssa, let go of Hope. Come on, let her go,” Christen said as she tried to pull the two keepers apart. “You can’t help Jo out if you get kicked off the team because you and Hope can’t get along.” 

Alyssa hesitated for a moment before she finally let go of Hope’s shirt. Hope immediately got closer to the other keeper. 

“Try that again-” 

“And what? Go ahead and try me, Hope. I’m not in the mood.” 

Christen moved to get in between the two keepers as others on the team also started to pull the two apart from each other. 

“Alyssa, drop it,” Christen said as she started to push Alyssa back.  

Christen waited until they were quite far away from where Hope had sat back down at the table before she stopped pushing Alyssa back. The others that had helped pull Alyssa back hesitated to move until Christen nodded at them. She was sure that she could handle it from here. 

Alyssa refused to meet Christen’s eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t mean to lose her temper like that.  

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” 

Alyssa shook her head as she tried to figure out what to say to explain why she had reacted that way. 

“Jo spent three hours yesterday working on penalties because she has no confidence in herself and she thinks that we shouldn’t trust her either,” Alyssa said. She knew that if Jo didn’t get herself out of this mindset, then she would burn out before she could even get started. “She thinks she has to be perfect, Christen. None of us are perfect. And this is a kid who has a ton of potential but is going to hurt herself because she thinks she has to be perfect all of the time when she doesn’t.” 

Christen sighed because she knew what it was like to be one of the top prospects. It was a lot to have to carry and the fact that Jo was playing with the senior team at fifteen years old meant that she had an insane amount of pressure on her. Everyone was counting her out because of her age and not basing any of their opinions on how Jo played. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Christen said. Alyssa froze at that and looked up at Christen. “It might help to have someone who has been in a similar position to talk to her.” 

Alyssa nodded. If she and Becky hadn’t been able to get through to Jo, then maybe this was the next best thing. Alyssa just hoped that one of them would be able to get through to Jo before she hurt herself. 

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #uswnt #woso

[iam93percentstardust]

Are you still taking kiss-prompts? What about thigh kisses? 👀

More kiss prompts! Sorry it took me a while to get to this one; I've been busy these past few weeks <3

~

Tony’s building, the overpriced monstrosity that it is, has a rooftop pool where he had lured Steve by hinting that sometimes, he sunbathes there naked because, according to him, he doesn’t like tan lines.

“And your neighbors don’t mind you sunbathing naked?” Steve had asked.

“Please.” Tony had rolled his eyes. “Everyone there is just as rich and eccentric as I am. They have their own idiosyncrasies, and if I don’t want to be bothered I just pay them off.”

“Oh,” Steve had said. He thought paying off the neighbors to get some privacy was a little out there, but given that Tony was a billionaire’s son, trying very hard to get rid of his fortune, he wasn’t that surprised. He frowned. “You’re not eccentric.”

“Steve,” Tony had said, giving him a Look. “I sunbathe nude.”

Long story short, Steve had been unable to stop thinking about Tony stretched out on a lounge chair, miles of golden skin on glorious display, so when Tony had asked him if he wanted to spend the day at the pool with him, he’d jumped at the chance.

Tragically, when Steve got there, Tony was not stretched out nude in one of the lounges.

He is, however, wearing the tiniest pair of red swim trunks known to man. So small, in fact, that Steve isn’t sure they’re not secretly bikini bottoms from the women’s department. Not that Steve would complain even if they are from the women’s department. Dating Tony has opened his eyes to the benefits of his partners wearing what would traditionally be classified as women’s lingerie—albeit made for men—namely, that it’s very sexy and Steve would worship at the altar of Tony’s ass in black lace for the rest of his life if he could.

“Good morning, beloved,” Tony drawls from his floatie in the middle of the shallow end. “Imagine seeing you here.” He raises his eyebrow above his sunglasses and crooks his finger in Steve’s direction.

Steve makes some kind of noise, strips out of his shirt, heedlessly dropping it… somewhere, and dives in, traveling half the length of the pool before he surfaces right in front of Tony.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his hand around Tony’s ankle and tugging him closer so his gorgeous thighs bracket Steve’s head—exactly where he wants him to be. “I thought you were going to be naked.”

“It’s just such a beautiful day,” Tony says carelessly, but his stomach tenses under Steve’s gaze, betraying how affected he is by his nearness. “I couldn’t possibly be expected not to get in the pool.”

Steve hums and kisses Tony’s right thigh, sloppy and open-mouthed. Tony tastes like chlorine and sunscreen, and Steve ignores both of those in favor of leaving a livid red mark on his skin. Tony sighs sweetly, muscles bunching under Steve’s teeth.

“You’re a tease,” Steve murmurs, tilting his head in the other direction to leave a matching mark on Tony’s other thigh.

“Mmhmm,” Tony agrees breathily. “An absolute menace. That’s why Natasha thought we’d be good together.”

Steve chuckles. “Sweetheart, please don’t talk about Natasha when I’m kissing you.”

“You’re not kissing me,” he points out. “My mouth is up here, and until such a time as it’s occupied, I can talk about whatever I—mmph!”

Steve kisses him again and pulls him fully off the floatie, kicking backwards to pull them back out into deeper water. Tony wraps his arms and legs around him, clinging to him as they kiss again and again.

#stevetony #alle writes

[chiaraanatra]

A Place For My Head

𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏: JJ knows just how to cheer you up after a shitty day at work.

Warnings: fluff, characters are 18+, swearing, mild angst due to mentions of mild verbal sexual harassment, pet names (cupcake, pretty girl, & kittycat), kissing, no use of Y/N.

AN: first JJ fic! Based on this post and my exchange with @starfxkr about JJ and Kitten!reader and their love for Linkin Park.

Song: A Place For My Head by Linkin Park

《 m.list || ao3 》

You spend the 15-minute ride to JJ's in silence. It was peak touron season and the bar you worked at was packed with frat boys and married 40-somethings drinking away any semblance of civility they had. The tips were good but if you had to deal with one more drunken asshole commenting on how your ass looked in your shorts, you were going to lose it.

You tried to remind yourself that none of that mattered now. Soon you and JJ would spend the rest of the day soaking in the Carolina sun, surfing, and letting the tides wash away your problems.

JJ was waiting on the porch, surfboard under his arm when you pulled onto his gravel driveway. Wasting no time he ran over, throwing his board next to yours in the back of your truck before hopping into the passenger seat. He was surprised to not be met with blaring music, but he thought little of it. "Wassup, Cupcake?"

You only shrugged before attempting to put the truck in reverse; however, before your hand could reach the shifter JJ's blocked your action. His brow was knit together in concern. When you didn’t elaborate, he spoke, “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin'…” your hands ran over your face.

"Nah, none of that shit." JJ knew you better than anyone, he knew ‘nothing’ never actually meant nothing, especially coming from you.

Your head hit the wheel with a light thud, "Just assholes at work… The only things worse than Kooks during off-season are these fuckin' tourons..." Your head lifted to look out your windshield, "‘Nice ass sweetheart.' 'Wanna show me around after your shift?' 'Bet I can show you a good time'...” you groaned and rolled your eyes, “Fuckers..."

JJ's tongue pressed into his cheek. "Bastards... They got good taste though," he half-joked, placing an arm around your shoulder, "Maybe I should start coming by during your shift. Let all those tourons know you’re mine." A small smile graced your lips at the thought. “You know I would too.”

“Yeah, I know…” A small sigh left your lungs. “But I don’t wanna think about that now.”

JJ gave you a signature smile and moved his hand from your shoulder to your bare thigh. You couldn’t help but smile back as you made your way out of his driveway and onto the road. He gave your thigh a light squeeze, “Where’s your phone?"

You pointed to the bag sitting at his feet, “Front pocket.”

“I know what'll make you feel better." He dug through the bag trying to find your phone. Once in his hands, he quickly unlocked it and opened your music app. He grabbed the cord connected to your cassette adapter. A soft buzzing filled the cabin before you recognized the familiar sound of a guitar softly picking.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As the song picked up, you and JJ mimicked the drumbeat, slamming your hands on the steering wheel and above the glove compartment respectively. You looked to JJ in anticipation of Mike Shinoda's first verse. JJ was right on cue, his rough voice filled with enthusiasm as he rapped along.

I watch how the moon sits in the sky in the dark night Shining with the light from the sun The sun doesn't give light to the moon assuming The moon's gonna owe it one

You always had a particular music taste, loving almost anything and everything. You were thankful that JJ shared this sentiment. However, there was no denying that Linkin Park was your band, and 'A Place For My Head' was one of your shared favorites off the Hybrid Theory album. The two of you were often heard blasting the song, let alone LP's entire discography, from your truck or the Twinkie. JJ always took Mike's part, rapping smoothly along with the lyrics, while you would scream Chester's parts at the top of your lungs.

Chester’s voice rolled through your speakers and mixed with your voice. You could feel the frustration and pent-up aggression escape with each verse of the chorus.

I wanna be in another place I hate when you say you don't understand (you'll see it's not meant to be) I wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy A place for my head

The bridge of the song hit, and you both were screaming the lyrics with little care for your ears or vocal cords.

You try to take the best of me, go away! You try to take the best of me, go away!

The song faded out, being replaced by your combined laughter as you threw the truck into park.

JJ looked over to you, “Feeling a bit better, kittycat?”

“Maybe a little.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew your smile gave you away.

JJ rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He got out of the truck, practically sprinting over to you, muscled arms pulling you into a tight embrace while his lips pressed lightly against your hair.

“Thank you, JJ,” you whispered before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his soft lips.

“Any time.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @daisydark

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx imagine #obx x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank blurb #jj obx #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks fics #outer banks imagine

[dk-ghostmachines]

I gotta talk about FourDogs (again)

It's barely about her, though. I think "he's so lucky his dad was brutally murdered" and "people with trauma need a second handicap because they're too motivated" are such absolute-the-fuck-ly bonkers takes, they're not even worth the time it took me to get mad about them, which was immediately. This time around, I have way more to say about audience reception. I'll try to keep it civil.

It feels like a lot of us are responding from increasingly personal places because these are characters with which a lot of us identify, or we see traits in them that remind us of people from our real lives. And hey! Another performance and storytelling slay on the part of one Brennan Lee Mulligan. Who else can invent 50+ characters every year and play them to the point where any one of them can evoke both an "omg that's literally me!" and an "omg that's literally Dani, the girl that bullied me all of freshmen year until I punched out her front tooth in the student parking lot and got in-school suspension for a month!". And whether Kipperlily reminds you of Dani, or reflects your own anxieties about potential, ability, and trauma, an important thing to remember is this: she is not real!

Brennan made her up! Brennan made her up to tell a story, and when he made her up, he made her annoying, petty, antagonistic, and he gave her not just opposing goals to the the protagonists we know and love, but the explicit goal of ruining The Bad Kids' lives, specifically.

Now, I'm not saying she's fictional to be a dick, or dismiss any deeper readings on her or any of the Rat Grinders. I'm bringing it up because the way I'm seeing people talk to each other about these characters is starting to get a little wild and it's in danger of waking up The Olde Gods™ (i.e. the special brand of Tumblr Self-Righteousness that lives inside us all).

It's important to remember Kipperlilly is a character in a fictive work so that different interpretations of her don't get treated as stone law. Each reading of her is personal and valid, but none are gospel. The "Kipperlilly is but a victim" take is not the only correct one, nor is radical empathy for her as a character the only correct reaction. Also, even if I consider her sympathetic that is not incompatible with an opinion like "Kipperlilly needs to get roundhouse'd in the head by a lesbian in a tracksuit and/or a wizard in a jean jacket, posthaste". Sure, you can say that anyone who doesn't feel a deep and eclipsing empathy for Kipperlilly above all other emotions is immature at best and sociopathic at worst, but then I can just say anyone who demands solely empathy for Kipperlilly and excuses her literal crimes and bass-ackwards world view because she's insecure and has anger issues, is probably also someone who has a history of weaponizing whatever minority status they may or may not occupy to talk over, silence, or harass people of color.

They're both just opinions. And also, like. Y'know. A bit much.

To engage in the long and rich tradition of measuring character trajectories against those in the Avatar: The Last Airbender cartoon, let's compare Kipperlilly to Azula. Azula had an incredibly sympathetic backstory and untreated mental health issues. Azula was also a danger to herself and others, as well as profoundly manipulative and abusive (although, it was a children's show so Azula never killed anybody for whatever that's worth). Do I wish that fourteen-year-old girl had an Iroh-type in her life? Literally one adult who loved her genuinely and advocated for her best interests? Of course I do. I saw the Ember Island episode, I watched that one video essay! Does that mean it was any less satisfying to watch Zuko and Katara kick her absolute ass? No! And it was non-lethal anyway, children's show, duh.

That brings me to my other thing; Kipperlilly is a character in a fictive work that is not finished. And I know that point will age poorly, but I'm thinking it won't be the only one (hey-o). Remember the people that were calling The Bad Kids bullies? And then we learned that Kipperlilly hated Riz because his fucking dad fucking died?? And that was a full academic year before getting reanimated by a rage god?? I'll do a tame one; remember when Gilear wasn't cursed?? He was "just a guy"?? The show is serialized, gang, the world is still building! Clerickiller is not done yet, y'all need to let her cook! I'm sure we'll tune in next week to see her graduate from "unhinged" to "unaffiliated with the door frame or any frame-like structure". Reprimanding people on Tumblr will not change the trajectory of this character who, by the way, has not expressed remorse or any desire for a path other than violence. You look me in my black face after your blorbo slits a kid's throat and say "help her"?? Kipperlilly doesn't want get better right now, she wants one thing and that's for Kristen Applebees to go fuck herself and die!! You were there, you heard it!! When the fictional behavior changes, as it often does in stories, so will my opinion. There is no fore-forgiveness. Without an actual redemption arc I will continue to see the villain as a villain.

Speaking of, I think what some people have an issue with is the level of hate Kipperlilly's getting and how aggressive it is. But like.... isn't that allowed?? Because of all the stuff I said but also because like, mama said that it was okay! And by "mama" I mean Siobhan Thompson who said Kipperlilly belongs under the jail. Sure, in the real world, adults don't tell kids they belong in the ground that's crazy fucked up, but all these kids are played by adults and Emily as Fig joked that she was gonna smite the sixteen-year-old girl played by the thirty-something man. You're telling me the antagonist antagonizes the protagonists, and the protagonists go "boo, hiss" and then I, the audience, go "boo, hiss as well" but I'm wrong? I'm wrong, somehow, cool checks out.

"They're XP Levelling*punches a locker*!!"

"That girl is worse than Kalvaxus."

"Littledoggy Girlcollar"

Am I not engaging with the narrative on it's own terms if I say "i'd tell Clerickiller to die mad, but she clearly already did, Jojo Siwa head-ass, in reference to that fuck-ass ponytail and your toxic yuri" Do I need to draw a little caitmay-style OC to say it for me, would that be better?

God-forbid, we have fun? Must we discourse, always? FourDogs is tragic, FourDogs is compelling, FourDogs is Dani from 9th grade. She is Azula from Avatar and Clare from Fleabag and Brennan Lee Mulligan from my dreams and that is something that can be so personal. But no one else has to participate in your parasocial relationship. What's crazy is, I actually like Kipperlilly! As a character. I mean, the "trauma is privilege" obviously hit a nerve with me because of real life stuff, but the image of her over the rogue teacher's grave?? With a backhoe and a "gotcha, bitch" expression??? Come on, that is fresh-off-the-vine Cunt™. Even more so than I imagined that moment to be when we first heard about it. Her ending up in a Ragh or Aelwyn place would be way more satisfying than a Goldenrod or Penelope Everpetal place, BUT IT WILL ALSO be satisfying to see whatever Kipperlilly's version of the locked-in-a-chokehold-and-being-gaslit-into-thinking-you-shit-the-coach's-pants-scene is. In addition to the non-lethal ass-kicking that proceeds it.

Y'all can chuck the insinuation that something so clearly subjective is actually objective and has moral implications that make me bad, directly in the garbage. What is this, religion, hey-o.

#lost some civility there at the end #but shit im not iroh #im a hater first #and an advocate for mental health third #and second i am an advocate for poc's getting their lick back against white people #especially if they were hurting your academic prospects #yes riz is a poc even though he's played by murph #me and demi adejuyigbe talked about it #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 #d20 #kipperlilly copperkettle #brennan lee mulligan #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids

[venusbyline]

Nate Jacobs NSFW Alphabet

⚠️: Smut, Nate Jacobs x Female Reader, slightly switch!Nate, mention of cnc.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Nate isn't the aftercare biggest fan, he only cares about it if you're already in real relationship. He'll probably lie in bed with you, watching a random movie on TV while cuddleing you against his chest, or massaging your shoulders and feet before you fall asleep.

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

He's very proud of his muscles. He worked hard to have a body as attractive as that, so he definitely brags about it a lot. He also knows he's lucky to be so tall.

I think Nate's an ass guy. It doesn't matter if your ass size, he loves squeezing and biting your soft skin. But in non-sexual context, I think the part of you he loves most it's your eyes. If you give him that puppy dog eyed... Girl, this man will become even more madly in love. The innocent vibes it's everything to him (even if you're not and he knows it).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Remember what I said about Nate loving your ass? If you're taking it doggy style, you can bet he'll take his cock out first just to cum on your ass.

If you're giving him head, he'll wanna cum on your face. He loves the feeling when he sees your pretty cheeks covered by his cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Nate'll never admit it if you ask, but he LOVES being choked and slightly degraded. He'll wanna make you jealous on purpose, just to see you to get on top, riding his cock and grabbing his throat with your little hands, cursing him with anything your angry brain can think of.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

It's kinda obvious, but Nate's VERY experienced. He has already fucked so many girls from that city. Sometimes it gets depressing for you, knowing how many your classmates have already been fucked by your boyfriend in the past.

HOWEVER, you're the first girl who has really able to explore his switched/submissive side. Before Nate dating you, he never let anyone sexually dominate him (even gently).

F = Favorite Position (Pretty self explanatory)

Doggystyle. This guy loves feeling you so small under him, his whole big body covering yours as he fucks your pussy, so rough and listening to you whining. If you start moaning too loud, he might grab your throat or cover your mouth with his hand (we know Nate's hand it's REALLY big, so don't be surprised if he ends up covering your face too much).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Well... Nate's very serious. He has anger issues and lives with a dark mind, in addition to having his own character deviations. So let's say that he uses sex as a way to de-stress and let out all his frustrations. Often.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

No hair. Nate's obsessed with his personal hygiene, to the point where he thinks his own pubic hair it's disgusting. As time goes, maybe you'll be able to convince him this is nonsense, but he'll still get sullen and probably shave it all off the moment the brown hairs starting show up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

We know Nate's more aggressive. He's not very romantic during sex and you already knew what you were getting into before you started dating him. But if you have a rough day, maybe he'll take it easy and try to be more soft. However, don't expect the romantic aspect being a routine.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Curiously, Nate doesn't jack off that much. Before he met you, he always got some random girls to distract him. Now he has you, he doesn't have to worry about that. But he keeps some pictures and amateur home videos that you two made so he can use it as motivation for moments when he's alone and needs cumming.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

As I said before: choking, giving and receiving.

Spanking, he loves spanking your ass, your face... Any part of your body you allow.

He really likes degrading you, especially if he's jealous. He calls you an attention whore and says you're just a stupid whore... If he's in a good mood, he's a little less rude or uses a more soft voice (maybe calling you "MY stupid little whore, MY attention whore...)

Breeding kink AS FUCK. Nate fucks you and talks dirty about getting you pregnant. So considering that... he has creampie too, it's obvious. Despite his fucked up Daddy issues, I think he likes being called Daddy in sex.

Things like pulling your hair and spitting on your mouth and face too. Draciphilia's also his kink, your tears flowing while he fucks you and humiliates you make you even hotter.

A light CNC/rapeplay too, but he doesn't know how telling you that, so he'd rather just picturing it for a while. But if he ever tells you and you consent and set your limits, you'll discover an even darker side of your boyfriend.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Party bathrooms and his truck. He loves taking risks, the idea of someone seeing you in a vulnerable moment like that makes him fucking jealous and turns him on even more.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The moment Nate starts feeling jealous, he becomes aggressive and horny. AND HE'S ALWAYS JEALOUS!

Your innocent and worried look at him when he's angry about his personal issues their also things that turns him on a lot. He knows he NEEDS to fuck you at that moment.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nate won't share you. He's been totally against threesomes since he started dating you. Even though he was a huge womanizer, nowadays he still wouldn't feel comfortable seeing a woman touch you either.

Much less a man. He would rather be killed than let another man touch you, his girlfriend, only his.

If you dare suggesting something like this, you can be sure that will cause one of the worst arguments in your entire relationship.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

As good as Nate's at eating you out, I feel like he'd rather you give him head. He loves taking control of this situation, making you kneel and take his cock to the back of your throat. He grabs your hair and forces you trying to fit every inch of his member into your mouth, also controlling the speed.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

Nate likes fast and rough thrusts, to the point where the noises of your hips clashing and your loud moans echo throughout his house. Therefore if you're having sex in secret in a public place, he covers your mouth to avoid interruptions and trouble.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Nate's the real biggest fan of quickies. Anywhere it's time. Are you at a party? He just drags you to the bathroom and fucks you there.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He takes a lot of risks, especially due sex in public places.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Because of his athletic body and because he's already used to very rough training routines, Nate can last a long time, so you're sure cumming many times. As for the number of rounds, I think he cums twice. Although he's not really tired and can keeping going if both of you want, it ends up not being so euphoric.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

There aren't so many toys for you two using... Who needs them when you have those huge hands or his own belt spanking you if you're being a brat? But... Let's say that sometimes he likes using some dildos and a Hitachi Magic Wand on you, seeing you crying and overstimulated, dripping for him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Nate loves teasing you, he wants seeing you beg for him, begging for his cock. He may deny your orgasms or let you feeling overstimulated until you need to use your safe word.

But don't you dare tease him back when you're on top, it won't end well for you after sex.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

When Nate's dominating you, he barely makes sounds other than dirty talk. Just some low growling and swearing. But when he's punishing you or rapeplaying, he won't mind yelling at you as many times as he wants.

When you're dominating him, he's more vocal and really likes whining for you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When Nate loses a football match, he gets angry easily. He pushes himself too hard and ends up taking it out on you, yelling that you distracted him from his goals or something like that. But all of this always ends after angry sex. Once, you were so tired of his explosive behavior that you decided he needed learning to use his mouth to something more useful.

You knew that behind that angry and aggressive facade, your boyfriend was just frustrated with himself, so you needed to show that you weren't disappointed with him. It wasn't long before he was lying on the bed, you on top of his face using it to rub your pussy while he swallowed your juices and jerked off his own cock, rubbing his nose against your clit and whining muffledly, as you moaned loud and called him a good boy.

X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I think his cock it's about 7.5 inches, quite rosy and thick enough to always makes you scream by pain and pleasure when he gets inside your pussy roughly. Sometimes you literally can see the shape of his cock marking the soft skin of your stomach as he fucks you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. He's Nate Jacobs, don't expect anything less that from him.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes a while for him to start feeling sleepy, so you can be sure that you'll sleep well before he does.

#venusbyline #my writing #nate jacobs x reader #jacob elordi x reader #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x y/n #jacob elordi x you #jacob elordi x y/n #nate jacobs #nate jacobs euphoria #jacob elordi #euphoria #nate jacobs smut #jacob elordi smut #nate jacobs imagine #jacob elordi imagine #alphabet headcanons #smut headcanons

[zillasvilla]

MAYHEM : Chapter One

Summary: Two sisters deal with the harsh realities of living within a crime syndicate. It’s not all diamonds and money. It’s blood, sweat, and more blood shed that keeps these families in power co-written w/ @keyaho

WC: 5489

Warnings: Smut.Death.Killing.Minors DO NOT interact.

Pairings: Joseph Anoa’i x OC Black Character ; Randy Orton x Black OC Character

Chapter One:

“Take off the shirt.’ Randy pointed to Ziva who was perched on his bed against the headboard and gold silk pillows. 

She looked up from his phone, scrolling through the dick pictures he had already sent her. This time she wore her pink lined glasses and bonnet, ready for bed as soon as he walked in. Except, he wasn’t ready for bed. He was partially dressed for it. Grey sweats, no shirt, commando beneath it, dick……was hard, but he wasn’t talking like he was in the mood for anything frisky. 

“What? Why?” 

Randy licked his lips slowly as he stared at his girlfriend. Her reaction confirmed his thoughts about her alternate identity. He didn’t need to see the black cobra stretching along her bonze skin, but he knew it was there and his desire to see it was of up most importance. 

“You have two choices,’ he says while clapping, ‘one, take off the shirt like I’m telling you or two, and I’d hate to do this one. I will come take it off of you.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You know I don’t like handling you like that.” 

Ziva had been frozen on the bed as her boyfriend spoke. His eyes never leaving hers and when his arms folded back across his chest, she knew she had little time to make a decision before he was making it for her. Randy wasn’t going to be nice about it either. She thought back to the last time he had to ‘handle’ her and she grimaced. The sex had been explosive, but between his big dick and the relentless thrusts, even after she was over sensitive, she hadn’t been able to walk straight for three days. 

“I just don’t know why you want me to.” 

Randy’s jaw clenched tight. “You want to do this the hard way?” He asked, slightly amused, ‘fine.” 

He walked towards the dresser next to her vanity and took off his jewelry; a gold chain he wore just about every day and his Rolex. Ziva’s heart began to thump hard in her chest. The massive viper tattoo on his back seemed to coil as his back muscles flexed. His neck, back, legs, and arms were covered in ink, but the one on his back was her favorite. She knew he knew why now. It was a massive tattoo she had clawed night after night while he was buried inside of her. 

Ziva slowly eased herself off of the bed. She wasn’t going to make it if she decided to run out the room. He’d just stalk her and the longer it took the madder he’d get. 

“Are you mad at me,’ she whispered, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, his shirt.

“Should I be?” 

He took a step forward and she took one backwards. 

“I don’t want you to be.” She replied.

“Then you should have taken the shirt off when I first asked you to.” He scratched his newly trimmed beard. 

She had fully enjoyed that beard being between her legs this afternoon when he got home from his barber. While she was thinking about his wicked tongue, Randy dove across the bed, grabbing her by the waist as he came off the other side.  He hurdled the bed. His grip on the shirt was tight. 

“Randy!”

“No.” He pushed her against the wall and spun her around so her back was to him. 

He lifted the shirt, smacking her ass a few times after seeing it in a black thong. The thin material swallowed by her ass. 

He bends down and presses his lips to the back of her head. Randy slides his hand up the shirt and against her skin. He can feel the raised skin where the tattoo was. He gathered the shirt in his right hand and the back of her neck with his left. She was held against the wall as he lifted up the shirt. 

“My little Cobra.” 

“No.”

“What the fuck did you say?” 

Ziva bit down on the pillow between her teeth. There was a hole already and she was working on the second one. Heavy hands held her hips still. Randy fucked into her as she whined and kept her back arched. Bare, he hadn’t taken his hands off of her since revealing the cobra tattoo on her back. She’s been on her hands and knees for thirty minutes while he fucked her. Backshots so hard the bed moved. Her ass was sore from his hits and she could barely feel her legs. Randy was behind her, sweating as he rolled his hips forward. 

He was standing by the bed using his posture for balance as he talked shit. 

“You love when I fuck you like this,” he teased. “Pussy gripping the fuck out my dick, damn baby.” He playfully smacks her ass. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she cried, reaching for the head board for something to hold on to. 

“You've been denying me,’ he says, slowing his thrusts. “My favorite position is watching you squirm on my dick. Just like this.” 

She had always said missionary or she’d ride him. He wanted to hit from the back and had told her so numerous times. He played along with what she wanted but now that her secret was out he was going to make this position a must do. 

“Not just this wet gushy pussy, but that back tattoo?” 

He ran his fingers along her spine just as the tattoo did. It was larger than he had expected, very detailed, and life like. Ziva’s body shivered at the delicate touch on her skin. Every part of her boyfriend was hard, the way he spoke, his presence, his hands, fuck his feet would be if she didn’t insist on getting him pedicures once a month. The hands currently running across her back were calloused and hard, worn with the many deeds he had done over the years. Some of them she’d seen and some she heard about in whispered conversations. Hands she would miss for the next five years. Hands she had to fantasize about after tomorrow morning. 

“Ran,’ she whispered, eyes shut as she bit down on her bottom lip. 

She was on the cusp of another orgasm as he pulled her hips backwards to meet his thrusts. Even in his haze, hooded eyes nearly shut at how she was gripping him. His hold on her waist tightened as his head lolled backward and a low fucccckkkkkk fell from his lips. 

“I know, I know, I know.” He hummed while pulling out. 

Ziva slumped to the bed at the loss but was quickly flipped over onto her back. She was pulled to the edge of the bed and her legs were pushed open. It wasn’t just the tattoo that made him more feral tonight, it was also the fact that he was going to be gone for five years in the penitentiary with a plea to avoid a RICO charge. 

When he took the plea deal he knew it was better than spending twenty plus years in prison and away from Ziva and his empire. He couldn’t leave her to run it or worse, watch as it was destroyed. Many prayed for his downfall. However, for the next five years he was going to leave Ziva in charge. 

Randy slid back into Ziva, watching her face as her mouth fell open from the stretch. He leaned over her, hands on the bed by her head and rocked his hips back and forth. He grabbed her face and brought her head up to his for a long kiss. He knew how much she loved that soft shit. He pulled away while keeping the rhythm she liked. Her eyes were wet with tears and his resolve cracked a bit. 

“What’s wrong,’ he whispered, hips still churning. 

The messy wet sounds she made as he fucked her told him how good he was making her feel. It sounded sticky and he would miss the sounds her body made for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hands under his arms and across his back as he moved. 

“I don’t want you to go,’ she moaned, turning her head into his neck as he stilled. 

Randy sighed. 

He turned himself in tomorrow morning. That had been a part of his deal so that he could tie up loose ends, make sure she was taken care of, and close out some dealings. He had been a busy man the past few weeks that he realized he hadn’t given her much attention. 

“I know you’d run away with me,’ he joked. “I have to go,’ he shrugged and resumed his thrusts. 

If the thought crossed his mind he wasn’t going to tell her that. Too many places he could take them and start their lives over. Right now, he was planning to take her to ecstasy again tonight. He wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her chest against his. His other hand gripped the bed beside her head. Randy held her up at an angle as she clung to him, her nails scratching up his sweat slick skin. The reality of the situation hit them both as he emptied into her. He had edged himself the entire night, denying himself every time her orgasms squeeze his dick.  

“One more, baby, just one more.” He cooed. 

She tried to grab him, but his sweat made her hands slip as she cried out, thighs falling apart as she fell to the bed with him hovering over her. His hips wiggled between her legs as he nudged his dick back into her. His thumb rubbed her clit in slow circles, heightening his pleasure so suddenly, she clenched tight around him, body arching as her mouth fell open. Silent, her orgasm shook her body and Randy held her hips still until he was emptying his cum in to her. 

She felt his lips on hers as they kissed slowly. 

“Such a good girl,’ he praised. 

They cleaned up for bed and Ziva was curled around Randy’s body. 

The post sex flow felt like a haze. Ziva was half on Randy’s chest after their shared shower. He fixed the bonnet he fucked off and gave her another one of his shirts to sleep in. He was in black sweats now, leaned up against the headboard. 

“How did,’ he began, ‘how long have you been Cobra?”

“Since I was sixteen. I didn’t go by Cobra until my twenties when I got the tattoo.” 

Randy was quiet. Pondering the new information about his girlfriend. 

“Why?”

“I don’t think you want to know that.” 

He rubbed her back as she picked at the strings to his sweats. She was avoiding eye contact with him. 

“I’m asking.” 

Ziva took in a deep breath and sat up. She reached for the remote he kept on his left side and turned off the tv so there weren’t any distractions. 

“So my mom married this guy, not my real father, and I grew up with them. I was young when it all went down hill,’ she whispered, trying to find the words to explain the sound of zippers and cold liquid. 

“I was sold,’ she shrugged. “That’s about as simple as I can put it.” 

Ziva’s nose began to burn as she trying to stifle the tears. 

You’re honestly the first healthy relationship I’ve had. I ran off at sixteen. Stayed low for a year, they found me…well, I was betrayed, and I was right back in the house. Addicted to ecstasy and…..well, you can only image what my step father did when he got me back in the house. 

Randy listened as she spoke. He hadn’t been expecting this when he asked, but he knew she needed to talk through it. Carrying this type of pain wasn’t good for anyone and as much as he hated seeing her cry, he knew she needed to get it out. He placed his hand on her fold knee and she grabbed it instantly, letting out a shaky sob. 

I started killing when I was eighteen. I needed to eat. I was stealing and stuff, but I got caught. Spent fifteen days in jail and thats when I met the daughter of my first mark. He lied and put her there. I had overheard her talking about offing him when she got out. I offered. I mean I had the rage and anger to do it. She paid me a grand, well, her sister on the outside paid me. Then I started offing the men I was sold to. I still have four left and I’ve been warning them I was coming. 

“What,’

“The worst part is they don’t even remember me. I was just another kid.” 

Athena

I will make it so he never forgets me.

The sensual lyrics to Usher's nice & slow blared through the club's speakers. Paying customers were ordering drinks and getting their own chance to throw money at the dancing women. The center stage was unoccupied. Reserved for the main act of the night. The lights dimmed to signal for the main act of the night.

”Horny ass niggas” The Dj cuts the music, letting her voice be heard through the microphone. “Get your pockets ready. The main act of the night is making her return to the stage.”

The low glaring spotlights gain the attention of the perverted patrons. Their hungry gaze surrounding the stage. The mixed beat of Remy Ma and Cardi B taking over the vibe of the club. Behind the stage she adjusted the fabric that barely covered her breasts. She inhales deeply, praying to herself, but coming out on her cue. Her long slender legs came into view first. The catcalling, and whistles do little to ease her racing nerves. The music envelopes her mind, flowing through her body with each sexual movement she makes. 

“Give it up for the main-event. The showstopper. Ms. I don’t need no press…NYX.”

Nyx could never get over the way her best friend announced her name. A different level of admiration in her voice. She holds back her grin, focusing on the task at hand, which was attending to the male gaze. Her eyes zeroes in on one man and one man only. She doesn’t want to be too obvious, using the pole in the center of the stage to dance, her legs wrapped tightly around the silver metal as she circled it slowly. The little pieces of clothing leave nothing to the imagination. The deep red color suits her deep mocha complexion. 

Money was thrown on stage; tens, twenties, fifties and even a couple of hundred dollar bills. She was making more than what the other women were making. A pleased smirk on her face, as she got on her knees. The auburn strands of her hair, falling into her face with every slow crawl towards the lucky..unlucky man. His animalistic growl, making her feel uneasy. Nyx allows her body to sit back on her knees, running her hands down her body with each bounce she makes, putting on a little show. Her eyes flick up to the wall behind him. The mysterious person smirking at her little tease of a show. She bit her lip, winding her hips a little more, turning her back to him, slowly standing, putting her ass on full display for him. 

The hollers she got and the money thrown made every other woman green with envy. Her slick point to the man was a signal to someone. Nyx finishes out her dance, letting them get close, but they knew not to touch. 

“Let’s give it up for NYX!!” 

The groan of unisons, do little to persuade her to dance longer. A simple nod to her best friend as she exited the stage, allowing the attendants to sweep up the falling money. She ignores the snarling women, going straight to her bag, changing into the black jumpsuit and oversized sweater.

”Bitch, thinks she's all that, yet she workin’ here like the rest of us.”

A leather black duffle bag was dropped in front of her; peeking in through the zipper she smiled at the crumbled piles of bills. Two weeks of work for some was made in just one night for her. “Dusty wants to see you.” Nyx looks back at the guard with a displeased frown. 

“Tell dusty. This was one an-.”

”He said either come willingly or he’s taking the money you made.” The lanky attendant, being flanked by two of Dusty’s enforcers. There were two things Nyx hated the most. Don’t tell her what to do and don’t mess with her bag. Dusty just did two of those things in one night. She was already disgusted with him being front and center to her dance, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with the greasy pig of a man.

“I know the way.” She takes quick steps out the dressing room, black bag on her arm. The dingy, dimly lit hallway is a cesspool for nefarious activities to go unnoticed. Dusty’s bright yellow door, distracting anyone from the two large men standing post. Nyx knew what the man was up to and she wasn’t having it. Dusty loved women. He especially loved dark-skin women. He also didn’t take no for an answer. Nyx had made her time there scarce. She never lingered long enough to become another notch on his belt. 

“You know the longer you stand here, the worse it gets.” Nyx glances at the white haired man, the black security shirt clinging to his pale skin. The white lettering of his name is embroidered on the right chest pocket. KENNEDY. He was always the nicer one, looking out for the girls when they locked up for the night. 

“Preciate’ that  Kennedy.” She’s not new to how Dusty could get when you make him wait. He was always impatient. Often sneaking to the dressing rooms, if made to wait too long. Nyx, blowing out a deep breath, forces her way into the office. The musty stench of sweat and other bodily fluids filled her nose. The foul scent so strong her eyes watered. 

“Ah Nyxxie.” Dusty looks at her, a wide grin on his face, she counted more fatty rolls than the last time she saw him. She cringed at the nickname, hating the way it sounded from him. 

“What Dusty.” She forced herself to look at him, leaving the door open behind him to bring in fresher air. 

“Just want to praise you on your performance.” A stuttering lisp of words leaving his white stained mouth. “You gave me quite a show.” He focused on her little dance for him.

”Only doing my job.”

”Right..your job. You know what else entails right?” He stands using the cheap cotton tracksuit he was wearing as a napkin to clean his hands. She holds in a gag when his fingers run through his stringy strands of white hair, leaving wet residue on his fingers. 

“Dancing, striping. Private dances..” She trails off coming to the realization of what he was asking her. “This dance was a one and done thing.”

”You can’t leave without paying dues.” Dusty rushes his way to her, forcefully putting her against the wall. Nyx had never seen him move that fast. His greedy hands, not feeling good on her skin, preparing to leave several marks and bruises. A swift kick to his dick had him tumbling over. The quick second of freedom used to push him off her to the ground. 

The groaning man on the floor gains the attention of Kennedy and his partner, but neither of them make a move. They focus on the group of men at the end of the hallway. It was three against two. Kennedy could maybe take the smaller one with a mullet on. But the other two were triple Holly’s size and they would be out in a second. 

“I heard the girls leaving. Wanna make sure they get home ?” Holly, asks him. Kennedy liked the idea of living to see another day. Hands raised in surrender, they backed away from the door, slowly making their exit. The raspy panting, and groaning, triggers something in the men, rushing to the sound; a set of feet kick the door open. It dangles on one hinge still in the wall. The sight before him was a bit of a surprise to the men except for one. A pleased smirk on his lips. Nyx, oblivious to the way they came in, slowly pulls the knife out, watching the blood drip from the sharp tip onto the floor. The unlucky victim. dusty, writhing in gasping pain.  

“Bout time you showed up.” She steps over him. “Hey Jimmy. Jey.” she greets them with a smile, tossing her bag into Jey’s arms. 

“This him?” Jimmy points with a disbelieving laugh. “This the nigga that owe you money!”

”Alright Jimmy we get it.” Nyx was annoyed and ready to go. She looks at the quieter man, his taller height towering over everyone. His hard gaze fixated on the man holding his crotch in pain.  “He’s not worth it Joseph..” she whispers, grabbing his hand. She was all for getting your dues, but there’s always a time and a place and this wasn’t it.

“No.” He pulls his hand back, motioning Jimmy to pick up the old man with a snap of his fingers. As if he was a dog, Jimmy moved with a quickness, roughly pulling Dusty up to his feet. The man is now face to face with a heated Joe. It wasn’t the money he was pissed about, it was the audacity Dusty had to try and assault his girl. It made him wonder how many other girls he did this to.

“I was only coming for my money…” Joe starts. His hand grabbing the bloodied knife Nyx used on Dusty seconds ago. “But then, you put your hands on my baby.” The bloodied knife pierced the lumpy skin on his cheek, dragging it slowly down his face. Dusty squirmed and pleaded for his life, the salty tears from his eyes, stinging the fresh cut that would surely scar soon.

His stuttering lisp is ten times worse in fear. “I’m sorry…I-I’ll give you-.” The sharp blade pushed deeper into his cheek. The loud painful cry music to Joe’s ears. A fascinated daze in his eyes as he pulled out the knife, watching the gaping hole spurt out blood, everyone taking a step back to not get blood on them. 

“Joooseph.” Nyx whines when blood almost got on her new Air Force ones. 

“Hold on princess.” He wipes the bloodied blade onto Dusty’s shirt, the sweaty crying man losing too much blood by the minute. Jimmy drops the man on the floor, jumping back to avoid getting the bodily fluids on him. 

Dusty could only look on as he watched his life flash before his eyes, every dirty deed and evil sin he did finally catching up with him. The yellow lights, looking more and more white as the minutes went by. Joseph grabs Nyx's hand, moving her along with him to stand at Dusty’s side. He squats down, making direct eye contact over the man.

“I really should kill you cause you fucked with my money, and now you tryna fuck my girl?” 

He places the clean blade in Nyx’s hand, moving her to squat down with him. She hated being up close and personal during his teaching moments to the twins. It always ended with her in a pool of her own essence. His warm calloused hand closed her palm around the base of the blade. 

“I’mma let Nyx get the satisfaction.” He stands, stepping back to give her the space she needed.

She hummed knowing he was trying to apologize, not caring about the outcome of accepting or declining his ‘apology’; she stabbed Dusty in the chest, dragging it down his body. The men behind her wincing as if they were next. She stops when his body goes limp, proud of her work she stands, taking the now serrated knife with her after wiping it on the dead man’s pants.. A stoic look as she looked at her all too proud man.

“Can we go now?”  The irritation shown on her face from the moment he asked her to set Dusty up to now and for what, this janky ass strip club? Her main focus was spending time with him and their two-year old daughter Nailah and maybe get dicked down before he left for five years. Joseph, amused by her sudden nonchalant mood, tips his head towards the lifeless body. 

“Yeah. We can go.” He takes her black duffle from a stuck in place Jey into his left hand. Nyx struts out the office, ignoring her man who held out his hand for her to hold. He turns his attention to the twins. “Find the deed, and clean this up.” The demand gruffly left his mouth; a pointed glare directed towards them when they tried to protest. 

“Got it Uce.” Jey raises his hands. He hated when he let her kill somebody. She was always messy with it. Joe leaves without another word, his mind on the beautiful woman leaning against his truck. Her freshly blown-out and curled hair pulled back into a ponytail. The small pout on her face let him know she was irritated to no end. Any other time, he would make her wait, but he would regret it if he did. Joe takes long strides in her direction, standing behind her with a hand on her hip.

”Pretty girl.” He whispers in her ear; gaining an annoyed sigh from her glossed lips.

“Open the door.” 

His hand pulls on the handle, pulling the door open for her. She immediately gets in, closing it without looking at him. He nods, accepting the attitude. Nyx couldn’t stay mad with him for long. He didn’t make it easy with the way he rubbed her thigh while driving home, grazing her inner flesh with his fingers. His touch warmed her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. He had a way of making her feel weak with just his hands and she was going to miss it. 

The touching stopped when they got home, Joseph sending the nanny home for the night. She watched on as he picked up their giggling daughter, kissing her cheeks. She was his twin, the eyes, the nose, oh the ears. She loved their ears. 

“Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” He talks to Nailah mostly, trekking up the stairs. Nyx takes her time, still upset at him for wasting their last night together. She picks up the random toys Nailah pulled out, putting them away. The time only got later as the moonlight shone through the windows. The deep animated voice is what draws her attention, a soft smile on her face while entering their room. He sat against the headboard with a clean Nailah; dressed in a red pajama sat nestled in his arms. She lets him enjoy this time with her, despite it being midnight, and not having a moment alone with him all day.  

The long shower she decided to take while he put Nailah to bed washed away the sins she engaged in, water and soap dripping from her rag onto her skins. The hot steam, curling her hair at the roots as it fogged up the bathroom. A sweet scent of mangoes filling his senses.

It didn’t take long for him to put Nailah down for bed. The wild two-year-old crashed as soon as her head hit the pillows. His focus was on the woman who had an attitude with him all day. The sounds of the shower running and her soft singing, leads him into the bathroom. The fog is doing little to hide her curves from him. Joe, like a lion locked on its prey, slowly strips from his clothes, the once neat and slicked back bun pulled from its hair tie. 

She was oblivious to what he was doing, hands rubbing over her toned legs as she bent down, to scrub at her calves. Joe snuck in his way in the shower, standing behind her to let the water soak him completely. 

“Fuck! Joe!” She turns to see why the water stopped, dropping her foot to the ground, flinching when he was standing before her, stark naked. “Don’t do that.” His hands reach out to grab at her hips, testing to see if she would put up a fight. 

“Sorry princess.” He whispers, pulling her closer into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, letting his lips linger as he mumbled into her skin. “You're still mad at me.”

The firm hold he has on her, doesn’t give room to move. She knew better than to fight him when it came to affection. She hated being touched while in the shower; he didn’t care. Her arms wrap around his neck, pressing her chest against his, her nipples hard at the warm, wet contact. “No..just upset.”

She had every right to be. His mouth leaves a trail of hot kisses down her jaw, collar bone, to her shoulder, using his hands to map out every curve and groove of her body, painting a never-ending picture in his mind of her silhouette. The little dips in her hips to the tiger marks from birthing their daughter. 

“Let me make it up to you.” He pulls back enough to look at her. The brown irises of her eyes staring into his own. Using his hands, he holds her face, thumbs rumbling over her cheeks. She leans into his touch, eyes closing at the gentle affection. Soft, feather-like kisses were placed to the corners of her mouth. 

“Joseph.” She mumbles; her hands moving to grasp at his wrist. His warm lips find hers in a sensual kiss, asserting his dominance over her. They find themselves moving backwards until her back hits the slippery cold tiled wall. The water is like rain showers over their heads. His hold on her face, reaching down to grab her thighs. The immediate instinct to jump up, locking her legs around his torso. His assault on her neck, forces her head back with a soft bite of her lip.

”Gonna miss this.” He pulls back, to flip his hair out of his face and look at her. “Gonna miss you.” He pressed a long kiss to her shoulder, peeking up at her through his thick lashes. Her words a mumbling mess, succumbing to the pleasure of his girth pressed against her core. 

“Shut up and fuck me.” 

“Athena.” He calls out to her, using the name she was born with to gain her attention. Her frame was turned away from him as she dressed for bed. The remnants of their sexual encounter lingers on her mind. If she looked at him, she would surely cry. She does her best to avoid eye contact, picking up the not so messy room. It kept her focused on everything but him. 

“Yes Joseph.” She still acknowledges that he’s there. The avoidance he was receiving from her wasn’t cool. Athena knew better than to not make eye contact with him. Especially when he was talking to her.

She doesn’t notice the way he shifts back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. A furrowed crease in his thick eyebrow. He watches every movement she makes: putting away dirty clothes, straightening her side of the room, leaving his side untouched. 

‘C’mere.” A demand rather than ask her to come. The tone in his voice dangerously rough, almost daring her to not listen. There was a moment of hesitation before she dropped everything and walked over to him. “Good girl.” He mutters to himself.

Athena stops in front of him, letting his hands pull her into his lap sideways, arms engulfing her into a tight embrace.  

“I know I’m leaving for a while.” He mumbles into her head. 

She scoffs. “More like five years.”

”It was that or twenty.” He argues, pulling back to look at her. Those five years would probably feel like fifteen once he was behind bars. “Don’t stress baby.” He rubs hand down her back in slow motions. Fingertips grazing over the bones in her spine, feeling her body relax into his touch.  “Business was handled, I spent time with you and Nailah.-“

“Business could have waited.”

He chuckles. She was never fond of going with him on his outings, especially after having Nailah. She preferred staying home, and doing work from the house. However, she had to step up and run the business. He was entrusting her with his empire. 

Joseph believed she could do it. 

Akhara’s Patrons: If you would like to be added, please comment on the master list. I will try to frequently update it as much as I can.

@justazzi @yana3sworld @wrestlingprincess80 @abadbitchblogs @paigereeder @kill-the-artiste @destinio1 @kill-the-artiste @reci1996 @mindairy @jatriciablog @alichesmi @jstarr86 @minsheyaish @wonderingfashion @whatdoeseverybodywant @jeysbvck @jeysbaby @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @keyaho @chaneajoyyy @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @empressdede @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @pimptressss @rose-bliss @prettyisasprettydoes1306

#roman reigns x black!reader #randy orton x black!reader #roman reigns #original character #black tumblr #fanfic #randy orton #dark aesthetic

[silver-wield]

Stygian pisses me off. Along people like her who say wishy washy stuff like "at most he probably thought she attractive he not blind, probably has fleeting feelings but those are bland compared to his feelings for tifa" where? Where are those?! Some talk about bro code but even before the whole Zack thing, he's already so mean in costa del sol. He's already Disgusted at the idea of a "couple gondola event". He's already mean in Remake even after that Cursed resolution. In fact it was after the whole Zack bit that he started trying to be kinder and more tolerating. It's No bro code, that concept was Never a thing he thought of. Do you know what he thought of? He DIDN'T think "oh zack gf, i should back away" , rather it was "oh zack gf, I should be more kinder because everything Zack cares about I care about as well". I bet he was super guilty and saddened about not remembering Zack and not telling his parents what's up. He Loves Zack third to Tifa and Claudia. aerith isn't even close enough to the list, heck he was more cool with barret and yuffie. He hit it off with yuffie so easily and they just met!, she can even understand his perverted tendencies about Tifa. Something not all of them see. Actually it might just be her who knows lol.

Anyway, these Statements Don't hold up and will contradict because it's Not canon. I just don't understand how they see these things that Never existed? Did they play the game? Did we play the same game? I don't understand why even entertain this? Do they Not understand the material given to them? Why are they even here? There is so much about FF7, and "ltd" Doesn't even exist. It's all in their head that Only loves to argue but stray away from canon and factual evidences.

Every time i hear them talk about him and his pov about aerith, it just makes me get turned off of him and want to Never support ct. Heck, I'd be the #1 to fight against it. I'm starting to wonder if they even like tifa, cloud or even this IP. Nojima didn't write him this way for them to downgrade and water down his character and his story and feelings about tifa.

This guy NEVER wavered. And while I think aerith was only saying what she said in her resolution as a sign she Never understood him at all (creepy date was Very Clear he Doesn't see Nor will ever see her that way, yet she missed this lol) and was indeed only talking to herself. All these so called "attraction/ fleeting feelings" some think AREN'T REAL, IT'S NEVER THERE. It's all in your imagination and you have to ask if they even enjoy FF7, tifa, cloud and ct to begin with. Or do they wanna hop onto c /a's train that if zack and tifa didn't exist this that wtvr despite Nojima writing about how these characters are Totally Incompatible in ALL levels.

Srry for the rant. I'm just so Sick of this wishy washy attitude. I think FF7 fans are so lucky to have so much material to fight against these but some ignore them. If this was a real debate, they've lost immediately. You deal with evidence and canon as support. Not use essays, what ifs , and half assed assertions such as those. It just sounds like they're afraid of being wrong. But foolishly they already are. Credibility goes down Immediately.

I understand that frustration when clotis make Aerith apologist comments that encourage dumbasses because they'll use it as a talking point to say "even clotis think Cloud was attracted to her!!!!" which is why I take myself away from those kinds of discussions because it's bullshit and I don't wanna argue with moots.

Before we had the material ulti plus scene showing that Cloud literally didn't recognise Aerith in her red dress a lot of us went "well he's male and she's dressed up 🤷" but then we got the scenario and the script that showed he literally didn't know it was even her and he was just surprised some random woman is walking towards him with a red carpet being rolled out and shit.

And then with the swimsuits, he isn't even looking at Aerith. He glances at her face then immediately checks out Tifa and we get that in the first person pov, so we see exactly where he's looking. Then he gets all shy and stammers, and they flirt. But, even when Aerith also matches he doesn't reply to her saying she needs help with the sunscreen, so he avoids her flirtation. He also constantly shows and tells her that he isn't happy with her yanking him around and calling everything a date.

So, given the literal evidence, no cloti should still be going around saying he finds her attractive. He clearly doesn't.

And idky we must have Cloud seeing her as attractive or being attracted just because she's a woman. She ain't pretty. That's not just me saying it. That's literally what we've been told throughout the games. She was called homely in wall market, Zack said she's only pretty from certain angles, nobody compliments her looks or style, and yet we're supposed to believe that the man who is panting after Tifa Lockhart, who is literally described as a bombshell, would also find someone subpar attractive and be interested in that because he's a man.

That's a pretty shitty way to view Cloud.

#final fantasy 7 remake #ff7r #ffviir #final fantasy 7r #final fantasy viir #cloud strife

[sunclown]

Quiet

#op #one piece #zoro #sanji #zosan #forever thinking sbout thriller bark #never getting over thriller bark #zoro sleeps more soundly hugging sanji because he doesnt get nightmares about not being able to stop him #and sanji sleeps (slightly) better hugging zoro cuz he can feel his heart and presence and know hes still alive #i think that was the point where they got their heads out of their asses #specially sanji #AS IN oh we def like eachother in a more profound way than just this guy is hot and annoying #but didnt quite get to do much or rlly talk about it till after timeskip #but dw theyll pick up right where they left it at which is the reassuring hugs and naps #my art

[greghatecrimes]

misc headcanon 2/?: when Thirteen was little she did figure skating. She had to quit once her mom’s Huntington’s started getting worse, but she was able to keep it up as a hobby during her teen years after her mom died. It gives her a sense of control over her body and helps her de-stress.

(rambling cont. in the tags)

#i have a wip one shot set in late s7 where thirteen invites chase to hang out with her and she takes him to the ice rink #it’s basically empty because of course she knows someone who knows someone who she can pay to get the place to herself #anyways of course Chase has never been so Thirteen ends up teaching him and saving him from falling on his ass a few times #and Chase gets to see a different side of her #i think she would have worked to save up for a pair of skates that fit her in her teenage years and she probably still has them #and she probably dyed the laces with black and purple sharpie ink #they’re so beat up at this point but she can’t make herself get rid of them #in my head she probably got to a point where she could do basic spins and step sequences and had all of her single jumps. babey remy seems #like she would have been a fast learner #she definitely tries an axel and botches it and scares the shit out of chase but pops right back up like ‘what? happens all the time.’ #headcanons #remy thirteen hadley #thirteen house md #house md

[celestialwhoree]

Ex bf!Simon🖤✬

You're still close. Both mature adults, and you know him better than anyone - he can't lose you, can't stand the thought of letting go of the one person who understands him better than anyone.

When he comes back from deployment and you practically beg him to come to this new club in town with you, he almost says no, really really wants to say no, but when you look at him with saucer wide eyes and a little pleading squeeze to his hand, he agrees to pick you up at nine. Tells you to wear something pretty. He knows you always look pretty, really, but he can't help but miss being able to show you off.

When he picks you up on his black YZF R1, sees you standing there on the sidewalk, he has to adjust his seat on the bike with how embarrassingly hard he gets at just the sight of you all dressed up for him.

"I thought you'd bring the truck." You whine as he hands you his 'spare' helmet that he actually just bought with you in mind. Simon gives you an affectionate little pat on the thigh when you slide on the bike behind him, unable to stop your dress from rucking practically to your hips, the thin lace of your panties inadvertently brushing against his lower back, the worn leather of his belt inconveniently pressing into your clit and you try to think of anything but how wet it's making you. "Traffic's bad tonight, can get there faster on this." He explains, muffled by his helmet.

He keeps a hand on your thigh the whole way there, just like he did when you were together, claimed that it reassured him you were still there, still safe.

Walking into the club is an assault on your senses, and you involuntarily curl into his side as he guides you to the bar, a hand snaking around your waist to settle protectively on your hip, thumb caressing the slightly raised line of your underwear without realising how much it riles you up.

Simon easily manoeuvres you over to the bar, one hand on you at all times, keeping you with him, keeping you safe. He calls his drink order to the bartender over the heavy thump of the music before giving your side a little pinch to pull your attention back to him' "Did you say something?" You hum as you're pulled from your daze. "What d'ya want to drink, baby?" The sound of the music obscures the old pet name that comes out in moments like this where the line in the sand between you is blurred by loud music and the comfort of his hands on your body. "Moscow Mule."

He keeps you tightly to his side as much as possible, occasionally grabbing you by the pressure point in the back of your neck when you get distracted and wander off.

Simon lets you have your fun - until some sleazy bloke who looks like trouble has his hands on your hips, grinding your ass into his pelvis with a smug grin, thinking he's got you hooked. "Hands off, mate." Simon grunts into his ear, a hand snaking around your front, settling on your navel as he pulls your back to his front, and when you turn to look indignantly up at him, he leans his head down to speak directly in your ear. "He was minging, baby." And goes on to soothe you like a petulant child when you go to complain about being able to make decisions for yourself. "Didn't see 'im lookin' at you the way I did, yeah? Just trying to protect my girl."

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

meant for this to be a drabble but I'm alr thinking about NSFW pt2. Feeling slutty!!!

💕🎀

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x f!reader #Simon ghost Riley x yn #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #Simon Riley x yn #Simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x y/n #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod #cod simon riley #ghost #ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley smut #celestialwhoree

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

[sturncrazy]

New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

—————————————————————————

your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

“well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

—————————————————————————

ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

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