#HES LIKE. TAN ISH BUT STILL

[popiplant]

VYNCENT SOL IS FUCKING WHITE???1?1?????

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

OlderSugarDaddyBoyfriend!Rafe Headcannons💋

inspired by @starfxkr ‘s SugarDaddy!Rafe

song in mind

SFW

• He has 3 daughters and they’re just happy their dad and mom aren’t in that toxic ass marriage anymore but that’s the only reason they tolerate you being that much younger than their dad.

• His oldest daughter is 5 years older than you, His middle is the same age as you and his youngest is three years younger than you.

• He’s 52 while you’re 21 so you have a 31 year age gap;)

• I imagine you living in like New York or New Jersey and he met you on a business trip while he was still married to his wife.

• The two of you were messing around for 3 months before his wife filed for divorce (she was having a 4 year long affair with Rafe’s business partner but we’ll talk about her more later)

• The day before the two of you met your parents threatened to cut you off and make you get a job after you got into a fight at the club with a girl and they had to bail you out of jail.

• But luckily for you, you met Rafe and you’ll never have to work again;)

• Moves you into his house 4 months after his divorce is finalized (his youngest daughter still lives with him because she wouldn’t stay with her mom either way)

• The old ladies who thought they would have a chance with Rafe after the divorce despise you.

• His nicknames for you: Bunny,Minx,Princess and Your actual name he’s not big on nicknames

• Your nicknames for him: Daddy Or Old man no in between :)

NSFW

• You would think him being a old man would effect his stamina but hadn’t so much of gave him a handjob for years before their divorce so he uses all that pent up “aggression” and it matches your young hyper sexualness

• Never uses protection because you claim “he’s an old man with no more swimmers.” and you live by that until you end up pregnant… Twice and his daughters are lowkey pissed

• He’s so old and matured so I know he gives THE BEST head and doesn’t expect anything in return like the boys your age do

• He wasn’t a big fan of PDA when he was with his wife but he loves when you shove your tongue down his throat in public to make people uncomfortable

• Idk something is telling me he likesfeet like he loves missionary because he’s still an old man so he loves sticking your big toe in his mouth and sucking it while he gives you deep strokes.

• 9 inches , cut subtle curve to the left , peachy pink tip with a tan ish base, full this just has the perfect amount of girth bigger than any one you’ve been with younger than him

That’s all I can think of for now!! If you have any suggestions on what I should write about him plz send an ask!!💋💋💋

[monster-match-if]

Welcome to Paradise!

A few decades after the mystical veil between the human and supernatural world was shattered there are still efforts done to fully integrate the two societies. What better way to achieve that than an international & interspecies dating show?!

Ten lucky beings are going to be selected for the first ever edition of Monster Match, and embark on a month-long vacation on a tropical island. Follow your heart or mind when making decisions and win the public’s favour. At the end of the month, the fan favourite couple will win a whopping cash prize of €500,000, to keep or split between them.

Couple up, have fun with the various challenges and most importantly stay alive find love!

And beware of what’s lurking in the shadows!

Genre: Reality TV dating show, monster fu- lovers. Love island the game, but with monsters. Strictly 18+!

WIP - some things may still change on the way.

Play as Male or Female.

Choose to be a Sweetheart, a Charmer or a Flirt.

Have fun or stir up some drama between the other contestants!

Find love or do it all for the money.

Split the prize, or keep it all to yourself… if you win.

Choose between 5 gender selectable ROs and two male partial ROs.

Try to figure out what's happening to the eliminated contestants or ignore the gnawing feeling.

Entirely choice based, the stats are there for flavor text. This is an excuse to write monster, ermm, loving content. The story is rated 18+ and will contain NSFW and maybe some gore along with other dubious things. There will be fade to black options and skippable scenes as well as preference options and some pretty tame and sweet routes, but why are you here if monsters are not your thing? Read at your own discretion!

Morgan → Vampire🦇 - M/F - 6’  Tall and pale, with dark hair and crimson eyes, and an infuriating naturally gorgeous body. Always has the hair styled neatly and preferes classy clothes. An incurable flirt. Expect: Blood and biting related activities. Not particularly loyal.

Elindorn / Eli → Deep forest elf 🏹 (basically a drow) - M/F - 5'7 / 6'4  Tall with an athletic swimmer’s body. Dusty lilac skin, long milky white hair and pale silver eyes that seem to look into your soul. Expect: actually… the most well adjusted of the bunch. Elves mate for life.

The bombshell - Blake → Incubus/ Succubus🌶️- obviously M/F - 5’8/ 6’4  Deep brown skin, short curly black hair and vivid blue eyes. Horns and tail in their “true” form. Skimpy clothes to attract potential vict- partners. Expect: open relationship, multiple partners, life… sucking?

Kitai → Kitsune 🦊- M/F - 5'5 / 5'11 (Casa Amor contestant) The shortest of the group, but the most attentive and ready to please. Ivory skin, long jet black hair and yellow eyes.  Expect: probably the sweetest, most wholesome route, tails - nine of them.

Fionnlagh / Fion → Cecaelia 🐙 (yes, tentacles) - M/F - 5'6 / 6'3 (Casa Amor contestant)  Tanned skin, long wavy red hair, and green eyes. Eight crimson tentacles in their “true” form. Expect: foursome options, but otherwise tentacles and fun, dubious consent-ish if you squint.

Partial ROs

Ragnar → Werewolf 🐺 - M - 6’9/ 8' when in werewolf form Only RO available strictly to F MC and only one who will break up with MC if they cheat or don't have the same views. Tall and built like a mountain, with lightly tanned skin, brown hair and beard and kind brown eyes. Covered in tattoos. Expect: *sigh* knotting, breeding, bestialityithink??

Seishish  - Sei  → naga 🐍 (yes 2 🍆) - M - 6'2 / 11' long with tail out  The Host - not being a contestant will limit interactions in the first half of the story, but he is also an endgame RO. Rich olive skin with a golden hue, long wavy platinum blonde hair, hazel snake eyes. Gains a lot of length in trier half-snake form, the tail an iridescent golden colour. Expect: dubious consent-ish if you squint, ovo…ovi… the eggpreg thing.

Other OG contestants

Warlock/human - Gael - M Human - Kat - F Siren - Oralla - F Fairy - Feyre - F (original name, I know) Angel - Arael - F Demon Azrorath - M

Demo coming soon

[rboooks]

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

[coquettepascal]

like tiramisu

summary: nothing beats summer vacation like a secret relationship with your dad's best friend, right? wrong! what really beats summer vacation is trying not do jump joel's bones every time you're alone.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, beach fic, age gap (it's dbf!joel, imagine what you want), dbf!joel, misuse of sunscreen, semi-public activities (not sex), groping, massaging, reader has a dad and brother, overuse of the word pretty, nicknames like pretty___ and baby, oral sex (f!recieving), she/her pronouns for your pussy, joel gets blueballed, fluff, joel and reader are very much in love, established relationship, secret relationship, stereotypical oblivious reader's!dad, mention of food poisoning (nothing graphic), slight grumpy!joel, soft!dom joel (ish)

a/n: woo!! i did it :D this is my submission for @hellishjoel's hot dilf summer challenge (link to the masterlist.) i'm a big fan of their work so i'm just happy to participate. tysm for this opportunity!

(3.6k, not beta read.)

Every year you travel to the coast with your dad and brother, enjoying a week at the tail end of summer to really relax. This year, your brother got sick, and so Joel took his place.

Like Joel, your dad’s best friend. You know, the one that you slept with a month ago one night after everyone went to bed? Joel like kind-of-your-secret-boyfriend-Joel. Simple situation really, you don’t know why you nearly shit yourself when Joel was standing in your driveway dragging a suitcase behind him. 

But, as Joel does, he’s made this easy. It shouldn’t be easy to be separated from him, but it’s made the small moments you can get with him better. Besides, you still get to see him in his handsome glory, all tan and broad and…

The not-easy part is not jumping on him every time your dad turns around. 

—

“Why is this so much more expensive than ice cream?” Joel asks you, eyes squinted as he peers at the chalkboard that hangs above the gelato cooler.

The family in front of you orders and literally pays with a 50 dollar bill, still not getting anywhere near a justifiable amount of change back. Joel squints at the board harder and you smile up at him. He needs glasses, you’ve been telling him this whole trip. 

“Having trouble?” You ask teasingly. Joel’s head turns, face already scowling, but then the employee behind the counter is asking for your order before he can tear you a new one.

Joel is still scowling at you as he shells out 25 dollars for 2 “adult size” cones. 

“S’not necessary to spend this much money on vacation, darlin’, we’re already relaxed,” He grumbles as you walk out of the air conditioned business, back into the beachy heat outside. 

Innocently, you lick up a drip of the tiramisu flavored gelato that drips down the cone. Joel’s eyes narrow more, clearly not appreciative of your behavior so far today. His face eases up when he takes a bite out of his mango sherbet, cooling his flamed temper. 

Your hand snakes into his free one as you walk down the beach, back to where your things are. It’s a quieter day on the beach, luckily. The past week you’ve spent with your father and Joel has been a hectic race for who can find a good spot on the beach, who can find a good spot to sit and eat, and who can find a good spot where the three of you can be left the fuck alone. 

Today you’ve found a good spot, tucked away behind some larger rocks. It kind of looks like it could be dangerous to be there when the tide comes in, but it’s out far today. You’re fine, you’re with Joel, and most importantly, the two of you are alone. 

Your dad ate some bad shrimp last night at dinner and has a horrible case of food poisoning. He assured both of you that he’d be fine on his own, to go enjoy the sun. 

God knows you both will.

You hop over to the blanket you had laid out, cowering under the shade of the rainbow umbrella Joel had bought earlier in the week. He claimed it was so you wouldn’t get heatstroke, but you have a feeling it was more for the sake of his skin. 

As you kick off your sandals, Joel sits down beside you under the umbrella, slurping obnoxiously at the remnants of his mango cone. Most of yours is still intact, though a bit melty. It’s something to marvel at, how Joel can inhale any food of any temperature in the blink of an eye. But it makes up his soft tummy, the one you can rest your head on later when you want to soak up the sun. 

“Do you wanna try mine?” You ask, noting the hungry eyes he’s giving your gelato. He nods and so you lean over to him, extending the cone.

And just as he leans in to take a massive bite, you jerk your hand, smearing tiramisu gelato onto the tip of his nose. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling back, “that’s not fucking funny.” 

But it is funny. Seeing the white cream smudged on his nose, tangled in the bristles of his moustache. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“That’s what you get for trying to chomp half of my treat!” You point out.

Joel’s head tilts at you, as if to say “really?” 

“Okay fine, I’ll fix it,” you huff. Passing your gelato to your free hand, you lean forward and suck the tip of his nose into your mouth, slurping off the remaining mess. 

Pulling back with a pop, you see Joel’s horrified face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He groans, wiping your saliva off his face. 

Joel gives you a look, clearly expecting some sort of repayment for the ridiculous stunt you just pulled. Begrudgingly, you hand the rest of your cone to him, but only because you really should put on sunscreen.

—

The sun beats down on you as you lay against Joel’s chest and belly, his legs spread to make room for you. He’s wearing black board shorts that cut off around his mid-thigh, leaving more skin exposed. Joel didn’t wear these ones yesterday, or any day previous. It was just the same red shorts that went down to his knees. But today, he matches you and your black two piece. His thick thighs firmly frame you, keeping you in place. 

“You need to reapply your sunscreen, sweetheart,” Joel hums, blindly pawing the blanket for wherever you tossed the bottle earlier. 

Streams of sunlight bathe you where you sit, the sun no longer blocked by the rainbow umbrella Joel insisted on. You planned on tanning anyways, so you don’t mind as much as Joel seems to. He grabs the sunscreen and his sunglasses, tossing them on. 

Your chin is tucked to your chest, crunched as Joel leans over you more, opening the cap of the lotion. The liquid is so cold in comparison to the warm sun rays that blanket the two of you, a near-pained hiss escaping you.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joel grunts, working the sunscreen into your abdomen.

His hands work your soft flesh so gently, his calloused palms spreading the protective lotion carefully. Joel’s thumbs dig a little harder as he feels your hip bones beneath his hands, making you protest weakly. You know what he’s doing, taking this private opportunity for his own gain.

“Joel,” you warn whinily, squirming. 

His hands grasp you in place, holding you while the cords of muscle on his forearms pop. 

“I said don’t be a baby,” he repeats slower this time, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“We both know you’ve taken worse.”

Yeah. Yeah you do know that. It doesn’t shut you up anymore, whining as he reaches to massage your thighs, his hands slipping to your inner thighs fast. You can barely process his touch there before he’s sliding his hands back to a more appropriate spot, your arms. He’s keeping it PG for the most part at least. The nagging fear of your dad suddenly showing up despite his illness lives in the back of your mind. 

Joel massages your wrists and the palms of your hands, thumbs pushing the flesh soothingly as he murmurs in your ear about how soft you are, how perfect. 

He was keeping it PG, but he’s getting selfish now. The orange sun is painting your skin in a way that’s making it hard for him to think, and it’s been so long since he’s had you alone. Your eyes glaze over as he drips more lotion into his palms, rubbing it between them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna forget your chest, would hate for my pretty girl to burn,” is all the warning you get.

Joel’s arms loop beneath yours, his wet palms sliding up your abdomen and then beneath your swim top. Big hands envelope the starting swell of your breasts, coming upwards and smothering your sensitive skin in sunscreen. His name slips out again, choked and surprised, but this isn’t unwanted.

You miss Joel. Even as he’s been here with you for this whole week, you miss his kisses and his touch. Sleeping in the same room as him, but in separate beds, has been awful. To hear him snore without feeling the vibration of it on your own skin has been treacherous. 

So you’re letting him have this, because as much as you hunger for him, that man is ravenous.

His thumbs rub over your nipples, most of your top bunched up on his knuckles now. Joel’s voice is low in your ears, talking soft like you aren’t in total privacy on the beach. Everything is flying now, his mouth uncontrollable as he tells you how good you feel, how much he missed you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, all week you’ve been so gorgeous, darlin,’” 

And then the kisses start. Hot down your neck, his scruffy face trails, tongue tracing the bitemarks he leaves occasionally. 

“Joel– Joel no marks,” you remind softly.

He obliges with a grunt, clearly unhappy with the situation. Sometimes he can get away with little marks, ones like on your inner thighs or your tits. But not here on a beach vacation, not so close to your dad. 

Joel continues to kiss you regardless, tilting your head so he can awkwardly meet your lips as he gropes you, massaging the lotion in as if the sun would ever hit any skin below your swimsuit. The atmosphere is only getting hotter as he touches you, the sun blazing against your skin as Joel rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out.

You want more, you need more.

You can feel him hard against you, slightly digging into your back. Sex on the beach is a terrible idea. Public indecency, sand in places it shouldn’t be… but it’s so tempting when you feel how badly he wants you, how badly he missed you. 

Desperately, you turn in his embrace, his hands slipping out of your top, leaving you exposed. You shove your face against his hungrily, feeling as his sunscreen greased hand cups your jaw, gentle even when he’s starving. You open for him easily, letting his hungry tongue taste where he wants. He tastes like waffle cones and tiramisu, you want to lick him clean. You breathe heavily when he slips off your mouth and kisses the side of your face.

“S’a good girl, lettin’ me miss her,” he says into your skin.

Your mouth feels rubbed raw, your nipples are buzzing, and the sun blazes across your back. Everywhere feels warm, his lips, his tongue, your skin, your cunt in these bikini bottoms that stick to you in the worst way. You want Joel’s fingers, spreading you open however he wants. 

Joel is so good at taking care of you, so good that he can hear the rambunctious group of people coming before you can. Hands tug down your top and flip you back around before you can realize.

“You’re alright, s’okay, just some people,” Joel says, sounding anxious himself. 

Just some people. Not anyone you know, just some people.

The two of you quickly switch back to how youwere, your head on his chest while you rest between his thighs. One of his hands rests on your abdomen as he squeezes you affectionately between his legs. It’s really frustrating, watching as the group of people sets up not too far down from the both of you. So much for your private spot on the beach, and potential sex. 

He shifts beneath you, the bulge in his swim shorts uncomfortable. Joel has settled for rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of your tummy, catching his breath still. 

“You can sleep, baby. Jus’ enjoy the sun, okay?”

The last thing on your mind is sleep, you’re more focused on the conch shell in his pants, but whatever. The sun is warm, and you’re with Joel. His hand stills on your belly, a warm weight in an attempt to soothe you.

-

It works, you fall asleep as the sun sets, and wake up when the cool night air shivers past you. Joel has managed to snake out from under you, using an unused beach towel to make a pillow for you. He’s packed everything up, sans the towel pillow and the blanket you lay on. Everything is ready to go, he’s just been waiting for you.

You watch from where you lay, as he dips his toes in the water. His broad shoulders are covered by a white, linen, shirt, highlighting him across the shore. Something about this is so right, to be on vacation with him, to be taken care of by him. Laying back, eyes staring into the inky night, you wonder what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t stayed up late that night, chatting and flirting. How long would you have gone without feeling loved, and like you belonged? 

Being Joel’s girl is more than that, even if no one knows you’re his, you have come to know yourself through him. His hands brushed away the sands that blurred your eyes, you’re seeing clearly for what feels like the first time ever.

Your love for him crashes down on you hard when he turns, walking back to you with a soft, dorky, smile. That’s your man, that’s your stupid old man, and he loves you.

“You ready t’go, darlin?” Joel asks, clearly relieved you eventually woke up.

With a nod, you walk as a pair back to the hotel. Joel insists on carrying everything, claiming he “don’t need” your help, even as he grunts.

-

Entering  the lobby of the hotel is a reminder that you have to be normal again, you and Joel are just getting along swell, and not seriously infatuated with one another.

His eyes bear into you when you step into the elevator, you can feel his eyes on your back as you press the button for your floor.

“What?” You ask, stepping back to lean against the railing.

Joel’s mouth seems to be dry as he responds, eyes tracing something on your stomach.

“Your tummy,” he manages.

You look down instantly, concerned you’ve managed a sunburn despite Joel’s efforts. Instead though, you find a tan line. A tan line in the shape of Joel’s hand, where it rested as you slept. Ghosts of Joel’s lips and teeth on your neck from earlier murmur across your skin, misting tingles across your shoulders and chest. He wanted to mark you so badly, wanted to sink his teeth into you the way he should have been able to, despite your refusal. Now he has his mark, across your tummy in the shape of his hands, the ones that carefully nurture you. 

You can see how it’s making him tick, how his scruffy jaw is clenched as his eyes are entranced by the shape on your belly. He has to spend the rest of the evening, the last couple of days of this trip, with his mark on you. Joel has to do all of that and not jump onto you at every opportunity he can.

“Baby,” Joel breathes, but the elevator doors open, and your dad is right there.

Your arms instantly wrap around your middle, trying to hide away the Joel-hand shaped tan line. As sick as your dad was this morning, he’s looking miles better. There’s colour in his cheeks, that isn’t green, and he’s standing up.

“Hey kid,” he greets cheerfully, “I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better so I was gonna go out and grab a bite to eat.”

The elevator is so quiet, the doors try to shut and Joel slams a hand against it, to keep it open. Your dad looks a little weirded out, but just smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you manage to say, sounding like your lungs have been cut out of your chest.

In the few months that you and Joel have been “together” you haven’t been caught, or even close to being caught. This tan line on your tummy could have been the cat out of the bag, but thankfully your dad seems oblivious.

He steps into the elevator between you two, gently nodding at the elevator doors.

“Y’all gettin’ out? Both of y’look kinda sunfried,” your dad asks.

Joel manages to respond this time as the two of you hurriedly leave the confined space. -

He practically dragged you down the hallway and back to your room once the elevator doors shut, leaving your dad in the dark. Joel dumped all your stuff on the floor near the door, pushing you off him when you tried to kiss at him.

“Naw. Bed,” he had grumbled, making a vague gesture to your bed.

You both knew you had limited time, your dad would be gone for an hour tops. Joel had peeled off his shirt while you shimmied out of what little clothes you had on, your swimsuit coverup falling away easily.

Now, you lay on your back, and if you could look down, you would see the sweat that’s soaking his back and the mess of hair on his head.

But you can’t look down, you can barely move as is. Your legs, which are tossed over his shoulders, shiver, toes curled. You want to ask if he can breathe down there, but your voice keeps catching, repeating his name again and again. The bristles of his facial hair might be chafing, but everything is wet right now, your cunt, his face, your thighs. He’s suffocating in your flesh, opening his mouth to sloppily make out with your pussy, licking at your clit as he sucks it between his lips. It isn’t gentle, he’s fucking famished.

“Joel– Baby, please,” you manage to whimper. 

He probably can’t hear you with the headlock you’ve put him in, soft thighs trapping his ears. Joel’s face slides down further to push his tongue into you, making you clench and gush as his nose presses to your clit. Reaching your hand down, you lace your fingers against his curls, trying to pry him away, but he just won’t quit. Your fingers slip from his sweaty strands, slamming onto the sheets as he doesn’t let up.

“Missed you, missed her,” he rasps between kisses. 

Joel loves this, loves pleasing you. This isn’t submission, this is worship. He talks to your cunt like he knows her, like he’s dating her too. Gentle as he is, he knows where your aches and cricks are, knows how to massage them with his fingers and tongue. Joel takes care of you both, it’s what he lives for. 

“I know, I can feel it, I missed you too,” you babble, hands flagrant between his hair and the sheets.

He laughs softly into you, smiling. You tug him closer, grinding onto his nose as a tease. 

Joel focuses on bringing himself closer, arms snaking up beneath your ass to curl his hands around your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. “Been so patient all week, need you t’come for me, please pretty thing?” He groans.

Nodding your head, you start to work with him. Again and again you roll your hips into his face. The two of you are fucking on borrowed time and Joel hastily promises you that he can take care of himself in the shower later, that he just needs to focus on you.

“Just need to taste you, remember your cunt in my mouth, please?” Joel asks.

You nod even faster now, huffing out air as your hips rise and he pulls you closer, tongue and teeth and nose buried in you. Every movement he makes begs for your release, begs for you to give him what he wants. His voice rumbles around your head, a voice encouraging this selfish feeling of pleasure.

“C’mon darlin, I’ve been waitin’ all week to have you. Let go for me, I’ve been patient.”

It sends you over, the mixture of Joel getting pussydrunk on you and the thoughts of him in your head. Your thighs lock around his head even harder, and he powers through without taking a breath for himself. Thoughts of times with him previous flash through your mind as you shiver, thoughts of what he’ll do to you once you’re both home make you gush. He laps it all up, his reward for being patient. 

When he pulls away, your essence is all over his face. Slicked through his facial hair and even on the tip of his nose, like tiramisu gelato. 

Unlike the gelato, you decide not to suck this cream off his nose.

Gently, you swipe a finger over his nose, cleaning it off with your own tongue.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum.

Joel manages to drag himself up your body, caging you beneath him while he smiles. Soft kisses are shared between the two of you, enjoying the peaceful moment where you’re finally, truly, alone. His moustache prickles your upper lip as he smiles and pulls away.

“Can give me your ‘thank you’s’ in a few days time, sweet girl.” He says, pulling himself down to kiss the 5 fingertips of the hand tan line he left.

Looking down at him as he kisses your belly, you hope you'll be exchanging thank you's for a very long time.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Later it is - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: hints of sexual activities if you squint

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Summer tanned skin, abs on display (ish), a safety pin and Lewis fashion week. Do we need anything more?!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The gentle sound of waves crashing outside the open window mingled with the rustling of clothes as Lewis quietly moved around the room, sorting through his suitcase.

Y/n stirred in bed, slowly waking as the morning light filtered through the curtains. The warmth of the sheets wrapped around her bare skin, and she stretched lazily, enjoying the moment before opening her eyes.

Lewis noticed the movement and glanced over, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was already dressed in a pair of jeans, his tattooed chest still gloriously bare, displaying the defined muscles that always made Y/n’s heart skip a beat.

He walked over to the bed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her lips. “Morning, beautiful. There’s breakfast on the table—your favorite.”

Y/n hummed in response; her eyes still half-closed as she took in the sight of him. “You’re spoiling me” she murmured, a playful smile curving her lips. As she propped herself up against the headboard, she held the sheets under her arms, only her shoulders exposed.

Lewis chuckled, straightening up as he moved back to his suitcase. “Always”.

He reached for his belt, threading it through the loops with practiced ease. Y/n watched him intently, her gaze following every movement as he secured the belt around his waist, the muscles on his back deliciously flexing.

As he picked up his cologne and spritzed a bit on, getting his skin to glow under the soft lights, Y/n couldn’t resist teasing him. “I love your tanned skin, truly. But I think you’re going to cause an accident if you don’t cover up.”

Lewis laughed, the deep, rich sound filling the room. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so?”

She nodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. “How is anyone supposed to focus with you walking around looking like that? We might need to put a warning on you.”

With a playful growl, Lewis closed the distance between them in a few quick strides. He leaned over the bed, his hands braced on either side of her, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.

The sheets slipped down her chest, revealing her breasts and in a blink of an eye she felt his warm skin against her chest, the scent of his cologne mixing with the salty air as she buried her face into him.

“You jealous, pretty girl?” Lewis whispered in her ear, his voice a low rumble that made her breath hitch. His breath hot against her skin, and the closeness of his body, the way his muscles rippled under her skin made her pulse quicken.

Y/n pressed herself closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered back, “Maybe a little.”

His response was immediate and fierce. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his mouth moving against hers with a passion that took her breath away.

Y/n melted into him, her hands threading through his hair as he pulled her closer. The world outside ceased to exist as the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips on hers, the way his hands roamed her exposed body.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as he nuzzled her neck.

“You’re trouble” he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with affection.

She laughed softly; the sound muffled against his chest. “Learned from the best.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes focused on her, desire evident in how he scanned her responses. “You’re gonna get me in trouble if you keep this up,” he warned, but the smile on his face betrayed the seriousness of his words.

Y/n smirked, her hands sliding down his chest. “Maybe I like you in trouble.”

Lewis chuckled again, the sound vibrating through her body. He kissed her once more, softer this time, before reluctantly pulling away. “I’ve got to finish getting ready,” he said, though the regret in his tone was evident.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the pillows, pulling back up the sheets to her chest as she watched him study her movements. He smiled and reached for her again, like he couldn’t resist another kiss – again and again.

She laughed softly mid kiss, his lips moving while in contact with hers “We can save that for later”.

“Later is it” she agreed.

But Y/n’s mind drifted back to just a few days back, in a sun-soaked summer in Madagascar, where the heat was so intense and the air thick with the scent of salt and humidity.

The ocean had been her sanctuary, a cool escape from the relentless sun, and she had just returned from a dip, water droplets glistening on her skin as they caught the golden rays.

Lewis had been sitting in a shaded spot on the beach, a towel lost over his lap and a glass of Almave, on the rocks, in his hand. His legs were spread out in that casual, confident way he had, and his skin—rich and chocolate-brown—gleamed under the sunlight, shimmering like liquid gold.

He looked utterly irresistible.

As soon as he saw her, a slow smile spread across his face, and he opened one of his arms wide, a clear invitation. Y/n couldn’t help but smile back, that familiar pull toward him.

She wanted him—she always did—but something about this moment, with the sun warming his skin and the relaxed atmosphere of the island, made her want him even more.

“Come here, pretty girl” he murmured, his voice soft. His eyes never left her as she walked over, the droplets of ocean water still dripping from her body.

When she reached him, his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer. The heat from his sun-soaked skin contrasted sharply with the coolness of her own, a shiver running through her body.

He noticed and chuckled softly, his breath tickling in the skin of her arm.

“You’re freezing,” he remarked, though his hands moved slowly, confidently, up and down her sides, warming her with his touch.

“You’re the one burning up” Y/n countered, leaning into him as she stole a sip from his glass. The drink was strong and sweet, just like the tropical paradise they were in.

She held the drink between them for a moment before taking another small sip, feeling the warmth spread through her chest.

Lewis watched her, his eyes darkening as she stood close, her body glistening in the sunlight. “You’re not planning on just standing there, are you?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “I suppose I should sit down then” she said, feigning reluctance as she looked at his lap.

Lewis’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Saved a spot, just for you,” he said, patting the towel-covered area on his lap invitingly.

Y/n moved to sit, but just before she could, he pulled her down with a sudden, playful tug. She landed with a soft gasp, her legs straddling his thighs as she settled against him. His sun-warmed arms wrapped around her, holding her securely in place as he leaned in to press a kiss to her shoulder.

Y/n smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she let herself relax against him. “Glad you know this is my spot” she whispered, her voice soft and content.

Lewis’s hand slid up to her chin, gently tilting her face toward him. “Always, love” he said, his voice low and sincere. His lips finding hers in a tender kiss, his hand holding her steady.

When the kiss broke, Y/n kept her eyes closed, savoring the lingering taste of him on her lips. “You know, I wouldn’t mind sitting a little higher up,” she murmured, her voice teasing as she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “But I think we might draw a crowd.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating through her body. He glanced around at the people milling about, some of whom had discreetly averted their eyes from the couple’s private moment.

“You might be right,” he admitted, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told her that he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

She laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We can save that for later.”

“Later it is,” he agreed, his hand moving to the small of her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin.

The memory of their sun-soaked afternoon in Madagascar still lingered in Y/n’s mind as she felt the warmth of Lewis’s body pressed against hers. The present slowly came back into focus as his lips found hers again, grounding her in the moment.

Y/n sighed into the kiss, her arms tightening around his neck as she pulled him closer. When they finally broke apart, she chuckled, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. “Don’t start something we don’t have the time to see through, Lewis,” she warned, though her tone was more playful than serious.

Lewis grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar mischief that always made her heart flutter. “Who says we don’t have time?” he teased, his hands roaming down her back, fingers brushing the curve of her hips.

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You’ve got a ride to catch, journalists to swoon, a car to get ready, and I’d rather not be responsible for you missing it.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Are you saying you don’t want me to stay?”

Y/n’s eyes sparkled as she gave him a teasing smile. “I’m saying I don’t want to be the reason you’re late, Lew.”

Lewis let out a dramatic sigh, but the smile never left his face. “Unfortunately, you’re right” he conceded, though his reluctance was clear. He pulled back slightly, just enough to help her adjust the sheets back over her chest, his touch lingering on her skin as he did so. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight” he promised, his voice low and sincere.

Y/n smirked, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her own ear. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to her lips before finally pulling away completely. “Dinner on the beach, just like last year?” he asked as he stood up, his gaze still locked on hers.

She nodded, a warm smile spreading across her face. “I’d like that.”

Lewis gave her a final, affectionate smile before turning to the mirror by the side of the room. He adjusted the cardigan on his shoulders, carefully fixing the safety pin that held it together. Y/n watched him, her gaze trailing down his body as he straightened up and turned to face her.

She arched one of her eyebrows slightly as she took in the sight of his abs on full display, the lines of his muscles sharp and defined in the morning light. She couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips, and Lewis caught it, his grin widening in satisfaction.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his tone dripping with teasing confidence.

Y/n shook her head, though her smile betrayed her. “I do” she admitted, her voice soft as she admired him openly. “But that safety pin right there is holding on for dear life.”

He laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement as he stepped closer to her again. “Glad you liked it” he said, his voice low and playful. “I only care about what you think.”

Y/n rolled her eyes affectionately, but the smile on her face was genuine. “Flatterer.”

“I’ll be back before you know it” he promised, his eyes filled with warmth as he picked up the last of his things.

When he finally turned to leave, he paused at the door, looking back at her with a smirk. “You’re gonna miss me?”

She laughed softly, blowing a kiss to him “I’ll save it for later.”

“Later it is” he agreed one last time.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[tarjapearce]

Old Friend

Summary: You meet an old friend in your shopping trip with the family.

Nothing but a slice of life, fluff, bit of angst and a jealous Miguel ~

Whenever it was restock day, Costco or Walmart would be the main places to go.

You'd get the list, Miguel would secure Rosie to his chest, as Benjamin would get inside your cart. Gabi would walk alongside you or her beloved Papa, pushing his cart.

Each would take separate ways, you'd get the meats and veggies, as Miguel would get the rest, powder detergent, cleansing products, and snacks.

"Mama, can I have these?" Benjamin swayed his feet pointing at the  colorful packaging of dinosaur shaped nuggets.

"Course you can, mi niño. Which one you want?"

"I tried the red one last time, I'll get the purple"

Benji's boyish voice echoed around you as you stopped on the frozen meals section.

"Alright, purple it is."

You picked the purple package, a triceratops and a T-Rex on the cover. Then, filled the cart with different sort of meats, Miguel's favorite cuts, hams and of course, lots of canned jalapeños. Orange, pineapple, and cranberry juice, a couple of sodas and finally you got to go to the cereal and coffee aisle.

Miguel was running out of coffee in his office, and back at home you only had a couple of packages. It reminded you the time Miguel nearly had an anxiety attack when he found out he had ran out of the black liquid gold, even in his secret stash.

For some reason the brand he always bought was put on the top shelves. With a huff you looked around to see if there was any ladder, but upon finding none, You stepped on the bottom shelf, trying to get the six pack in the edge, but obviously, you couldn't reach it.

Benjamin giggled when you missed, as revenge you smothered his face in kisses, earning you a loud and bubbling squeal.

"Here, let me." A deep voice rumbled behind you. Your eyes widened at the all too familiar face before you. Reaching effortlessly for the coffee packaging.

"Richard" you mumbled while taking the package, to then put it on the cart.

"Hey" His hand waved softly. Clad in a hoodie, bermudas and sneakers. A little gold band hugging his ring finger. Dull, as his overall aura.

Despite the years coming through, he hadn't lost his kind green eyes. Some wrinkles adorned his matured face. Ricky was only two years older than you, and still had some white hairs poking out here and there.

He sported a short and well trimmed beard, hair parted and neatly arranged to a side. His eyes darted to the boy that undoubtedly resembled alot like you, except for his curious big and round red-ish eyes.

"Whose this little champ?" The smile on his face was coy, but genuine.

"It's my boy, Benjamin."

A proud beam stretched on your face as your hand caressed Benjamin's head, some of his curls trapping your fingers.

"Nice to meet you, champ." Ricky stretched his hands towards him and Benjamin shook it, a tad nervous.

"He definitely has your curls."

You smiled, eyes diverting behind him, ready to meet his partner but, there was none, just his half cart full of car appliances, some diary products and snacks.

"My goodness, you have a beard now."

Ricky chuckled and scratched it. He was a handsome man, undoubtedly. Good and well worked physique. Lean muscles, athletic and healthy looking. Green eyes a shade darker than green apples, pretty lips you liked biting and a healthy tan on his skin, despite him being a pale guy. A couple of freckles adorned his nose.

"And you've got a kid now." there was a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"Three actually. Funny how we ended up doing the things we always said we wouldn't do right away."

Richard gave a soft laugh.

"At least we look good. And I'm sure you're a great mom. How long has it been?"

"I don't know, I suck at math. But I do know it's more than ten years." You pushed the cart to get the cereals and naturally he helped you to get them. Eyes looking for Miguel in every chance you had.

"How have you been?" He tensed a bit at the question, not expecting your openness to talking so casually, specially when your finger shone with a golden band. He graduated college and never saw you again, until now. Gentle and caring as always. You hadn't changed, and he was glad.

"As usual. Existing, trying to keep myself afloat after, uh... my divorce." His mouth pressed in a tight line, green eyes looked away for a second, unable to meet your stare. Ashamed.

Your eyes blinked at his reply. Clearly surprised by such thing. Face falling with worry. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Richard shook his head, and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Things happen. It's one of those situations that get your eyes open for good." Ricky rubbed his neck awkwardly and you offered a little reassure with a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly.

"Hey, you've got this. I know it's been a while, but I'm sure your problem solving skills are still top notch."

Hw chuckled, almost sympathetic at himself, "I don't even know anymore, if I'm honest. But if you say so."

The voices in the aisles kept indistinct, each in their own world, mingling with the upbeat background music.

"Also... I'm sorry." His eyes remained on yours. Something he'd always do when speaking truthfully.

Your brow quirked, "Whatever for?"

Ricky's hands squeezed the insides of his pockets as he spoke.

"For breaking up with you. Specially like that. It was a d-" He caught his tongue before continuing with the french before Benjamin, "It was wrong of me."

You could only stare at him, and he recoiled further in his spot, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor.

"If something's worth saying, I... divorced cause my mom also ruined it for me."

You frowned, confused and he shook his head.

"So I cut ties, went to therapy and yeah." He reached out for a three pack of granola for himself, and another for you after you pointed at the brand.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of confused as to why would you think I'd be happy to know something awful happened to you, Richard?"

Richard's brow puckered. You really hadn't changed at all. Even after he dumped you a few days before Christmas eve.

"I... don't know? Thought you'd hold a grudge for what I did."

"A grudge?" You tittered and this threw him off guard, "Not to sound mean or anything, but I didn't even remember what had happened until now. You know I'm forgetful."

You both chuckled as he nodded.

"Yeah, kinda wondered if you'd lose your head too if it wasn't attached to your body."

You gasped while mocking offense, "That was rude."

You grabbed a couple of cereal boxes Benjamin pointed at.

"But true. In all seriousness, I'm glad that at least something great came after me. Is he a good man?, wait..." He shook his head softly, "Stupid question Of course he is, you married him."

You beamed and this made his chest swell in a mix of happiness and pride. You deserved it after all he also put you through.

"You'll find someone, I know so." It always made him wondered why he was stupid like that to allow his mother come in between.

"I'll give myself a couple of years to heal first. Wanna make sure I don't repeat things over."

It was your turn to get that pride sensation in your chest. Knowing he was making a good progress out of his mother's shadow also made you happy. You out of everyone knew how hard it was like.

"Hope they're ready to listen country music nonstop in your car." He rolled his eyes.

"I know you hated the genre, that's why I always played them"

Your lips pursed with faked anger as he tittered, however, Ricky cleared his throat off the laughing upon watching a behemoth of a man, approaching from behind. Red eyes set on him. A shudder crawled on his skin as he gulped. The baby on his chest did little to appease the intimidating aura around him.

"Mama!" Gabi came to you with an excited face as she showed you her new acquisition. A purple and glittery cover for her phone.

"Qué lindo! Do they have it in blue too?" (How cute!)

"Nah, it was the last one, Papa said this would match with my room too."

Said Papa hugged you from behind, and kissed your temple, red eyes never left him. Ricky gave Miguel a polite smile as he backed away a few steps. Miguel's strong features only turned sharper. It would be a lie to say if Ricky wasn't surprised and intimidated.

Surprised cause you hugged Miguel's narrow waist, a pleased and proud purr emanated from his chest. Loud enough for only you to hear it.

The man before him screamed danger a mile ago. But also, explained lots of things. Like Benjamin's eyes.

"Richard, this is my husband. Miguel O'Hara."

Ricky hesitated for a second, but stretched his hands towards him, big tan hands easily enveloped his in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you." His nervous smile was like fuel to your husband's ego.

Miguel acknowledged him with a brief nod, eyes not tearing away from him. A quiet She's mine in his eyes.

"Richard and I used to go at the same college. Oh! This is my eldest daughter, Gabriella. And my youngest baby, Rosie."

Gabi smiled politely while holding onto Miguel's hips.

"You have a beautiful family." His green eyes stared at an ever curious Rosie that gazed back at him. Miguel's shoulder's tensed when Rosie gave Ricky a smile.

"Thanks, You'll be fine though. Things take time, but, It all comes together somehow. Just be patient. I'm glad you're doing good on your own." Again, you patted his shoulder, he just gave you a small but genuine smile. Miguel's guts churned as his jaw clenched.

Ricky left after saying his goodbyes, not wanting to impose his presence any further.

"Gabibi, mi amor, can you get the food cart to the line, please?"

"Okay. Don't take too long, please?"

Gabriella took the cart as Benjamin showed her his nuggets, leaving you and Miguel with Rosie alone.

"Alright, interrogation can start now." You chuckled and Miguel pulled you by your waist towards him, ebbing you to walk a few steps before giving a firm slap on your rear.

"Miguel!" you hushed, flustered while looking around to see of there were people and he smirked.

"Wanted to do that before that guy, but that wouldn't be too polite of me, wouldn't it?"

You kissed his cheek, but he quickly corrected the place and pecked your lips.

"That's better. Who was he anyway?"

"My ex from college."

He just hummed and it was your turn to return the squeeze, he chuckled, "Relax. He just got divorced and obviously not having a good time."

"Too bad." He shrugged, a bit nonchalant and you deadpanned.

"Don't be mean. You were scaring him on purpose."

"Obvio. Still, forgot to thank him." (Obviously)

You chuckled as you approached to the line, Gabi waved at you both.

"Thank him?"

"Well, he let you go, and I wouldn't have met you in the first place. So thanks to that."

"Well, he's there on the other line, go tell him."

You teased, but to your surprise Miguel stepped away from the beeline and was walking towards Richard.

"W-Wait! Miguel!" You had skip a few steps to catch him and pull him back to spot, he smirked while pulling you tighter towards him.

"Don't tempt me, mi reina."

"God, I swear. You're-"

"Your husband, mi amor." He smirked, satisfied at his own title in your life.

"A jealous one."

He leaned to your ear and whispered, "Espérate que lleguemos a casa. No te la vas a acabar conmigo, mi reina." (Wait till we get home. You'll see what's up.)

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the flirty atmosphere around you and covered Benjamin's eyes.

"You're too young to see that."

[esggs]

Cottagecore life with Sukuna, who’s already packing his bags out the suburbs as you paint a picture of blue-green countryside idyll amid the mountain grass carpet, warm hearthstone, and sweetfish fresh from the stream. 

“Pick your favourite.” He scoffs at your delighted face. He won’t show you how much time he spent planning the whole thing: a surprise trip to a sheep ranch. Your laugh warms a blush all through his tan skin. “We’ll take it with us.”

A quick peck of gratitude later, you spend your time examining through the bleating herd. Cloud-balls brush past your knees. You decide on a youngling: fat little candyfloss on stubbly legs, a few weeks old at best. You’re already planning on the barn you’ll make for him– watch him grow up into a spoilt old ram. 

Sukuna, hanging back against the fence, rustles your hair as you return with your baby in your arms.“Good choice, looks soft too.”

“He is!” You pet his little head as he nuzzles into your neck, already taking to you. “His name’s Yuuji, I’ve decided, it’s perfect for him!”

“I’m not gonna call the pest that.”

You two walk back to your car, strapping your new pet into the backseat the best you can. The journey back to your homestead is pretty short anyway. “You’ll start loving him in no time, I tell you. C’mon, just call him by his name once!”

………..

“You don’t like it, brat?” Sukuna is confused seeing the tears in your eyes. Is it the smoke from the sizzling dish? Or were you not feeling meat-ish today? The lamb has been roasted to perfection, he made sure of that, topped it with your favourite lemon-cilantro too! “I’m even calling it ‘Yuuji asado’ instead of ‘cordero asado’.” 

“My baby…” You reach out to touch his now-crispy skin. 

Sukuna’s a bit hurt– you didn’t even try it once before reacting like that. Sukuna might not be a very experienced cook, but he actually followed the recipe to a T, putting his heart and soul into the dish to make you happy. On top of that, you did pick the lamb out yourself, so there’s no reason for you to be so ungrateful. 

Still, he carves out a leg, pouring extra garlic oil onto your plate, and forks off a bit for you to taste. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You take the bite he’s offering. 

Yuuji. You’re sobbing now. You’re heartbreakingly delicious.

“Do you … like it?” His first culinary attempt: He just wants you to appreciate his efforts. 

“It’s the best lamb ever, baby.”  It’s true. Well-marinated meat, so tender you could tear it with your lips. Juicy on the inside, the flavours seeping through and through. You can’t even pretend that you don’t want another bite. “Tears of happiness, don’t worry about it.”

“Damn right.” His smile is back to cocky again, having conquered the art of the kitchen. “Play nice and I’ll make it again for you next week.”

a/n: this happened to me. I was 7. dad's side of the family yk.

[venusacrossthestars]

your hands in mine

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC-1k

warnings- fluff, thunderstorm, 1 sexual-ish innuendo

A/N: this is something special for @arieslost and her obsession with hands, especially Charles' hands. I wrote this and am posting in today (3/12) in honor of our 3 years of friendship. I wouldn't be who I am without her. nyoom duo till the end.

f1 masterlist

The roll of thunder is what startles you out of your slumber. Senses clouded by the lingering effects of sleep. For a moment you are unsure as to where you were. This looked nothing like your apartment. Another wave of thunder brought back the realization, I spent the night at Charles’. 

You and the Monégasque driver had spent the entire day together, doing everything and nothing. He had a week off between races and was adamant about spending it all with you, not that you were complaining. This night had been no different. The two of you had gone out for a nice dinner, a little local spot near Charles’ flat that had live music. Your walk home was filled with a comfortable silence, which was one of your favorite things about being with Charles. The two of you didn’t need to be in constant conversation with each other, just each other presence was enough. 

The peacefulness followed the both of you as you worked through the motions of your nightly routine. Yours ended with reading a few chapters of whatever book you were reading and Charles practicing the piano. Kissing him before you each went off to do your own routine was the last thing you could fully remember. You must’ve fallen asleep out on the balcony and Charles must’ve carried you to bed. 

Turing over in Charles’ arms was a task easier said than done. Anytime the two of you spooned his arms would magically become vice grips, impossible to get out of. However, Charles must have been equally, if not more, beat than you. The rain helping lull him to sleep as it had done to you, his arms were lax across your middle, making it easier to roll over to your opposite side. 

As the wind picked up, a cool breeze swept through the open windows making you nestle further into Charles’ bare chest. Your hands coming to rest across his chest. Another thing to love about him, he always slept shirtless. It was impossible to deny how handsome Charles was, and contrary to popular belief of the media, you weren’t with Charles only for his looks and fame, though it was a perk. You didn’t care about any of those things. When he was with you he wasn’t Charles Leclerc Prince of Ferrari, he was just Charles and that’s all you needed. 

The rain began to pour harder and you couldn’t restrain yourself from staring at Charles’ sleeping figure, it was as if Michelangelo personally carved him out of marble. His sharp features only a tad more relaxed in his slumber. Shamelessly, you move your hand from his chest and lightly begin to trace his face with the backside of your hand, carefully trying not to wake him. Content with your mapping skills you move your hand back to his chest, now mindlessly drawing shapes into his tan skin. 

You continued your drawing, listening to the sounds of the storm as it raged on, lost in your own world. You would’ve stayed like that for longer if it wasn’t for a practically bright flash of lightning followed by a wave of thunder that had enough force to shake the room. This startled Charles from his slumber, which in turn startled you. 

“We should close the window before the floor gets all wet,” Charles mumbled out, still in the clutches of sleep. 

“Too comfy, don’t wanna move,” you mutter into his skin. 

Charles slides out from under you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. 

“I’m going to be right back, mon cheri, do not worry.” 

With your eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, you can make out the outline of Charles’ back, along with the muscles that flex as he closes the window and redraws the curtains that have been blown open. You watch shamelessly. How can a man be that perfect? 

“See something you like?” Charles teases, standing at the foot of the bed. 

“Best view in the city.” Your answer seems to satisfy Charles as he climbs back into bed, back to your previous position. 

Now, instead of your hands tracing Charles’ features it is Charles whose hands soothingly roam your arm. On one particular ticklish pass of his hand, you let out a small giggle and before he can go back to try and tickle you again you grab his hand. 

With his hand in yours, you bring it to your lips and press small kisses against each of his knuckles. Happy with the amount of kisses you have given him you bring his hand back down and absent-mindedly play with his fingers. Charles, still awake, says nothing and continues to let you do as you please. 

“I love your hands,” you admit. 

“I know,” he chuckles out, “I like my hands too, especially when they are wrapped around your throat.” 

You gasp at the statement, “you pervert. I’m complimenting you and your head is stuck in the gutter.” 

“It always is when you’re around.” 

You roll your eyes at his comment and he pinches your side in retaliation, “you can’t even see what I did.” 

“I know you, and I know you just rolled your eyes at me.” 

Well, he’s got you there. You stop messing around with his fingers and now it is Charles’ turn to fiddle with yours. He copies your motions, bringing your hand to also kiss each knuckle. Instead of stopping as you did with his, he lightly massages the meat of your palm. 

You are fighting the feeling of sleep, but it is a losing battle between the massage Charles is giving you and sound of the rain hitting the now closed window. Charles mutters something that your foggy brain is unable to catch. 

Laced with sleep you ask, “what did you say?” 

“Just that I love your hands too.” Charles says while kissing your ring finger but you are too far gone to hear the last part. “And one day I’ll put a ring on your finger and be able to call you mine forever.”

[moonfright]

jegulus soulmate au but the potters are cursed to only see colour once their soulmate tells them "i love you" and regulus saying it while james is trying to break up with him bc of the mark. im emo

notes: cata, kindly, what is wrong with you? also you're the only one who's requesting angst ily.

masterlist

introduction & explanation

“The Saddest Blue”

content: soulmate au with a twist, jegulus, angst, canon compliant-ish, ambiguous ending, hurt/no comfort

—————

Truthfully, James doesn't recall sitting down on the ledge of the fountain. The courtyard is empty, and it's almost curfew, but he's sitting outside. There's no explanation for it either, since he has no reason to be here. It's just pretty; the night sky gets reflected by the still water in the fountains. It's so bright here, now, that James feels a strange ache in his stomach. Like a knife twisting.

Soulmates.

Such a strange concept, right? James would believe in them, he wants to. They sound like something wonderful, like something he craves. A person who is destined to love him, someone he's destined to love. Something inevitable, written into the very fabric of the universe, unable to escape it. Considering that it's something good, James would've said he doesn't want to run. That was, at least, until he did meet the love of his life.

“James?” The Gryffindor raises his head at the sound of his name, turning around on the stone ledge to look at the small, slight frame covered in black robes, and a sickeningly dark tie. Much darker than his in hue.

It felt a little like a dream when, much to James' dismay, Regulus looked at him like this for the first time. Three years prior, under the starry nightsky, just like now. It was midnight, then, and they'd both been unable to sleep. James honestly remembers it like he dreams of it every night—he does. Of course he'd known Regulus before that, but he remembers the way that thirteen year old boy, wearing nothing but a thin button-up, and pajama shorts, turned his head to look at him with wide, grey eyes. They were beautiful, still are.

Now, however, they don't glow with the same sparkle. The moon isn't gifting them light.

James wishes he could see their colour. That the stupid, horrible curse would let him see Regulus' eyes just once. Even if he's not his soulmate, because evidently he's not, James just wants to see. Once. Then again, judging by the look on Regulus' face, that bitter expression... It's probably best if James doesn't see it after all.

“Reg, love. Hey,” he says, quietly, his voice a little raspy. “Are you okay?”

It's a stupid question, considering James knows his boyfriend. He knows him well, so well, in fact, that just by noticing the hand clutching that sleeve he has an idea of what is happening. Of what has already happened. “No,” is the simple answer that Regulus offers, tone bitter. It sounds like he's been crying, and James stands up. Right now, he doesn't know. Right now, he can be clueless, and loving, and act like he doesn't know what's happened. What's going to be the outcome of their possibly one-sided relationship. They've only been dating for a few months. James, chasing for love, has hoped dearly that maybe this would save Regulus.

Save him from loneliness, and perhaps even from his family. Clearly, James has thoughts wrong.

A tan hand caresses over Regulus' pale cheek. His skin looks nearly white in the light. To James, at least. “It's okay, love. Shh,” he whispers, knocking their foreheads together. His eyes close, but he can feel the wetness of a tear on his thumb, which he gently rubs over Regulus' cheekbone now. “I love you. I love you.”

It's for himself much more than it is for Regulus. He has to remind himself that he loves him more than he can handle. That it's unhealthy just how enamoured James is by him. It's not good for him. Not at all.

The motion that ends it all is surprising. Regulus' hand places on his chest, gently pushing him away. It's a painfully familiar rejection, because the Slytherin seems to be afraid of any affection James is willing to give him—Merlin, he'd give him the nightsky, if he could. Then, that same hand raises, over a tear-ridden face that's scrunched into a painful expression. The sleeve slips, and slips, and James feels a curl of anger, of fear settle in his stomach as the first glimpses of magical, black ink reveal themselves. It's ugly. The stark, painful contrast between beautiful, innocent, white skin, and disgusting, evil, black colour. Like the tattoo itself is mocking James by turning Regulus' arm into the impure reminder of his heritage. The family he hasn't left, even now.

James takes a deep, shaky breath.

“You took the Mark,” he says. This time, his voice is louder. He knew. He knew, but it still makes him want to scream. He expected it, so why does his heart hurt so badly?

Regulus doesn't open his eyes, nor does he lower his arm. He's shaking, and James is utterly disgusted by his urge to hold him close, and hug him tight. He cares. He cares so much about this boy, but he feels betrayed by the person he's loved so dearly. For so long.

“I'm sorry.”

It's the only thing Regulus says as his body shakes with silent sobs. No explanation, no excuses. He doesn't try to talk himself out of it, doesn't say that his parents forced him. Ot hurts James even more. Doesn't he want to be forgiven? To be saved? Against his better judgement, James would forgive Regulus immediately, if he'd just... If he'd just wanted it. Why doesn't he ask for help? It rips a sob out of James, and he raises a hand to his mouth, closing his eyes.

Everything is a blur of grey.

Grey.

Grey. Grey. Grey.

Regulus doesn't love him. James loves him so much.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” the Slytherin repeats, like a prayer. Slowly, he sinks to the ground, kneeling, and James moves towards him. His arms wrap around him tightly, shaking similarly with copied sobs, and trembles. It's not fair. It's not fair that James is holding him, and comforting him. It's not fair.

With a long, deep sigh, and pushes himself away, and sits down, away from Regulus. He lets out a miserable laugh, and rubs a hand down his face, wiping away tears that were smeared by inky black hair. What's he to do? Fuck. He loves him so much. His hands are shaking, and he swears he can't breathe. Yet, his mind is screaming with that same urge again. Comfort. Comfort. Save. Help. Comfort. Hold. It makes him sick to the stomach.

Perhaps it's better to leave. James can still hear Regulus sobbing, and he would rather be under the Imperius curse. He'd rather feel the physical pain of being burned alive than hearing the boy he loves sob about betraying him.

“Please.” James whimpers, and he shakes his head like he's dizzy. He is. “Stop. Merlin, please stop. I can't take this, Reg, I—I really can't.” The Gryffindor's legs feel weak as he takes a step back, and he tries to balance himself. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. He just has to—He just has to—“Reg, I'm sorry. I have to—I can't be with you. I can't be with you anymore.”

Comically, James knows that this hurts him more than it hurts Regulus. It has to. He watches as the Slytherin freezes, stops breathing. Still, he doesn't look at him, and James wants to die. He wipes his eyes, and blinks away the blurriness. It's better this way. It's better this way. It's better this way. If James leaves him, he can find someone else to love. His true, true soulmate.

“James,” Regulus whispers, and the older boy hates how he immediately looks. Now, he can finally see the other's face. The air feels still, even though it's cold, and—“I love you.”

The words ring in James' head.

I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Suddenly, James sees the most beautiful colour he's seen in his entire life. The first. It's the same as the dark ocean, or the stormy seas. Teary eyes that make James want to drown. It makes him dizzy, and he glances down at trembling lips that resemble the fragility of roses, the deep colour of blood. Bitten weak, and sore. James feels overwhelmed by the colours that are suddenly visible in the night sky, the grey splotches from before that suddenly seem alive. Tears build up once more in his eyes, and he glances down at rosy cheeks that looks a lot less like marble, or porcelain.

Regulus. It's Regulus after all.

Bitterly, James lets out a laugh. He feels more tears stream down his face, and he looks back at the love of his life, his soulmate. The boy is still kneeling there, crying along with him, like he knows. It hurts.

Oh, it hurts.

It hurts, and James can see the colour of Regulus' beautiful, tearful eyes—Just before the Slytherin stands up, and storms off, and James watches the colourful tie fall to the ground.

It looks a lot lighter like this.

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Exhibitionism, infidelity, Aegon’s a dick in this one but it’s bc he’s Insecure, voyeur-ish, oral f!receiving, Criston Lives To Serve Women, one-sided feelings, doggy-style, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, it Appears Mr. Cole is being Used but nah she wants to crawl inside his armor, BI AEGON RIGHTS!!!!

A/N: This was alternately labeled ‘Mr. Criston dicks down’

Criston dragged Aegon’s limp form into the bed, carelessly throwing the stinking wretch into the fine bedding. Once again picked up from a night out, the knight had received a tip from a gold cloak that your idiot husband was getting fucked with the curtains opened, the blonde’s loud moans and pink prick on display for all to see on the Street of Silk.

Aegon mumbled and rolled on his side, covering his face with a pillow, snoring within seconds. You could still see the slick stains on the seat of his ass and frowned. He’d take cocks before he drank enough to take you. You held your arms around your robed waist and murmured, “Thank you Ser.” You couldn’t bear laying back down beside him. Misery wafted off you in waves.

Criston remained silent, presence looming, warm leather sliding along the bared crook of your neck. The brunette thumbed at the rigid muscles at the base of your skull— always drawn tight. You feebly moaned, falling back into his intimate embrace. His other hand possessively splayed across your waist to your stomach, fingertips tightening just-so.

The knight murmured, “He’s so much easier like this. I can feel you relaxing already.”

Your shoulders were unbearably tense. Criston moved his other hand to clamp down on your tender muscles. It was a pleasant feeling, warm pressure aided by softened leather. His familiar scent engulfed you, the man nosing at your hair and inhaling.

Lulled from your lover’s warm hands and presence you whispered, “He dishonors me. My entire family.” Criston dug the heels of his palms into your muscles, earning another helpless moan. The knight growled, “I know sweetling. I know”, his grip tightened, “I thought about leaving the sot and taking you in this bed all night. He’s like a poison vine, crawling atop everything, leaving it’s mark.”

You turned up to look at Criston’s thinned lips, thick brows furrowed and dark eyes boring into Aegon. You reached up to caress a stubbled cheek, soften his raging frustrations. He let out a deep breath, the leather vice on your body loosening.

Cautiously you turned further, now facing your dear knight. He looked upset still, swearing, “He has no shame. No cares. Fucking fool, as much as I cared and loved for the boy.” Now your smaller hands held his tanned face, catching those dark orbs, immediately softening upon your gaze.

“Do not fret Criston, you’ve eased the burn, burdened what you did not have to. I’m blessed to have you in my arms.

The brunette swallowed thickly, emotions welling. He croaked, “I’d never not stand against who dishonors the future queen. All of those limping lordlings can attest to that. I’m blessed further to have you, Princess. I’ll take your burdens until I leave this world.”

He leant down to take your lips, gentle and kind. Your palms snuck up into his pretty curls, lightly tugging and scratching his scalp. Criston sighed against your breath, tongues dancing in an experienced form. His big hands made slow circles from your waist, hips, to ass. The white knight kneaded at the softer flesh, groaning your name.

Only the sound of Aegon’s drunken snoring intertwined with your heightening breath and soft sighs of pleasure. You asked against his moist lips, eyes fervent, “Take me, I need you love.” Dark brown sought your own, Criston’s eyes moving to and fro. He eyed the defiled Aegon and nodded briskly.

“If he awakes, this could go very wrong my princess,” he murmured with a worried gaze.

“If he awakes I hope he feels dishonored as I have been. He’d probably think it was a dream.”

The blonde actually had no clue. He was too self-absorbed, laughed off the japes about the white knight over his wife, under the bed. Aegon would laugh, “I think the sot still burns over my cunt sister, how tragic. The bastards might’ve been his.” He’d eye you, lips pouting, body stiff, “Afraid you and the ‘Realms Delight’ have little in common. I think he likes a little fire.”

Criston physically flipped you out of the horrid memory. Your upper body was pinned to the bed, eyes gazing up at those bite-swollen lips and messy white hair. You wanted him to hurt, just as you and your lover had. Turning your head to face the Dornishman you undid the robe and lay bare to his gaze now, always undone by the look of reverence.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful, let me have a taste first? Please princess?,” he begged, eyes shiny and wide, desperation pitching his voice. You nodded assent, mouth falling open as his perfect lips kissed your rapidly swelling cunt. He moaned into you, gloves carelessly tossed by now, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin.

He gripped at your thighs while lapping up to that precious bundle, stubble scraping against delicate skin. You writhed backwards, crying out softly and grabbing a handful of thick curls. “C-Criston, oh, ha!”

He’d slipped two big fingers inside a now-weeping cunt, wet mouth suckling at your button. The man had to hold a hip to keep you down, shaking apart at the seams. You were whimpering and yanking at his hair, cunny shivering and twitching around Criston’s crooked fingers— lazily beckoning your orgasm to make its way down.

He shoved a third finger in and flicked the hood of your bud, once, twice, then in rapid succession with an expert tongue. Now you didn’t even hold back the wail, finishing messily on your lover’s face. He groaned and lapped, purring little praises, big hands still kneading trembling flesh. You wanted more, now, let your dear Criston consume you.

He huffed a laugh when you slowly hiked a leg up, then another, exposing your puffy core to him. Criston breathed against your skin, a lilt to his tone, “Are you needy sweetling? Need my cock while your fool husband is sleeping in the same bed?” He snickered while getting up to loosen his breeches and some outer armor.

“I wonder if he’s even moved? I had a better view than you, my princess.”

You sneered over your shoulder, “Lucky you, hm?”

Criston grinned as he eased one knee onto the bed, hand guiding his heavy cock forward. You whined again, the blunt tip practically a tease. Reaching backwards with a grunt you pulled his hips flush to your ass. There was a dull slap, your cry of ecstasy, Criston’s winded ‘fuck!’

He smacked your ass and growled, “Not needy, ravenous,” he pressed his warm body to your back, “absolutely ravenous.” You nodded in jerks, skin erupting into a sweat, goosebumps up and down your bared skin. Criston’s sculpted lips kissed and mouthed against your nape, winding your hair around his left hand.

You stuttered weakly, “C-come on my l-love, s’full.”

He grinned against your skin, shoving his lean hips forward. The knight murmured in a teasing lilt, “Mhm dove? Feel how much I desire you? How you drive me insane? I’ll ruin you for any other— including that one.”

He punctuated the end of the sentence with a pointed thrust, jerking your head upwards to stare at Aegon’s puffy face. He was still out, twitching a bit. You mewled, “You already have, take me- take me!” Keeping tanned skin plastered to your own, he fucked you rough and quick.

You had no time to adjust— grunts and cries forced out by his ever-moving cock. The brunette’s right hand held your waist, crooking your back for a better angle. He still had your head facing Aegon, gloating in the debauchery in front of your husband’s face.

You bucked back onto the familiar girth, whining your white knight’s name. He didn’t let up, abusing your already sensitive cunt. Although still were a bit tender from earlier, the burn was exquisite. Your hands wrenched in the bedspread were ordered by your lover to grope at your tits, play around with an overused clit.

He panted into your ear, “Such a good sweetling, s-sucking me in, keep it up.”

You turned to meet his lips, sloppily mashing your mouth against his. Criston whined deep in in his chest, opening up to drag his tongue across yours. It was a messy affair, the pair of you too busy chanting litanies of sweet names between swears. His hips began to drag into disjointed little grinds, Criston’s pretty eyes scrunching tight.

He begged against your drooling lips, “C’mon- haaah- c’mon.” He helplessly gasped and jerked into your tightening cunt. You nodded, eyes lidded and hazy, promising, “I’m right there, oh my love, my sweetheart.” Reaching up to caress his stubbled cheek you looked forward. Criston was whining softly against your face with his eyes closed and mouth agape, so lovely, the picture of erotic pleasure.

Aegon’s violet eyes were a different story. They were open in shock, staring dead on. His plush lips opened, closed, opened— gaping like a fish. At that moment Criston struck gold and you seized with a high cry, wailing your lover’s name. The orgasm that hit you was extra sweet layered with self-satisfaction.

Criston stuttered, “O-oh gods, gods, fuckyesyesyes, I’m coming for you, yes!” He shoved his face into the crook of your neck, pretty nose mashed into your skin as he moaned long and whorish. You gasped, grinning, cooing, “That’s it my love, fill me up, yes, good boy.”

Aegon’s plush lips wobbled, his face blotchy with something. Did he really expect you to cry and wait for his attention all this time? The knight beside and inside you came to, lashes fluttering. He laughed, “You’re dreaming princeling, go back to sleep.”

The blonde croaked, “But she’s mine.” He was dumbfounded, still drunk out of his mind. Tears gathered in those Valyrian eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at Criston’s ploy. Purring with satisfaction you added, “Roll over fool, you’ll wake up with a pounding head and a wife that doesn’t fuck your Kingsguard. Although she dreams of it.”

Aegon looked lost and sad but did so, rolling over and away from you two. Criston laid a possessive peck on your cheekbone, snickering, “Didn’t think he’d get all weepy about it.” You shrugged and replied, “Good. If he wasn’t such a brat I wouldn’t play this off. Need you too much.”

The brunette grinned easily, nosing against you. He rasped, “True. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up dove.” He slid out with a hiss and the pair of you got quickly dressed— lest Aegon awaken again. You sent off the sweet knight with one more kiss, him escorting you to your separate chambers for the night. You wouldn’t sleep next to the drunk sot.

“Would you fuck Cole if you had the chance?,” Aegon asked abruptly during breakfast. It was just the two of you, the prince requesting a private audience. You raised a brow while nibbling on cheese, humming, “Why would you ask that? I’m sworn to you.”

He frowned, sagging into his chair, eyes rimmed and red. He muttered, “Had a strange dream, you were fucking Cole in our bed last night.” You laughed, a sudden burst. The prince hissed, “It wasn’t a joke, nor very pleasant. He’s a dumb dog, loyal to whoever throws a bone.”

You replied, “He’s merely chivalrous. Pretty face. Shame he’s common-born.” Aegon scoffed, biting into his meal.

“You’ll have no one but me,” he stated.

“Of course, husband dearest. You do love to remind me of that,” you said absently.

Aegon leveled you with a look, an attempt to intimidate. All you saw was fear. The prince’s crippling fear of being alone. Oh. It felt so good. You hoped next time he doesn’t fully wake up.

[devilmademewriteit]

thinking about jealous reader and jealous javi

Jealous Girl

gif via @javier-pena

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

warnings: roughy sex/smut (fem penetration) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dirty talk; jealous!reader; jealous!javi; sort of dom!javi; allusions to reader having long-ish hair; pet names (baby, babygirl, hermosa, cariño); slut-shaming (reader uses the word ‘whore’); dubcon (no explicit consent, Javi is… forceful).

no use of y/n in this fic

thx 4 the drabble / short fic request!! once again this is FERAL !!! feel free to keep sending me lil drabble requests. they’re so fun to write while I work on my longer fics.

reminder that I am not using the taglist for these, but you can turn on notifs & join the list in my pinned post for my longer works !

-em <3

—

“You broke it off with me, baby, remember?”

What does it matter? What does it matter when you lock eyes with him getting head in his car, parked in some barely-hidden side-street, one block away from your dad’s salsamentaria?

What does it matter when, ten minutes later, he finds you, alone in the back room of the store, forcing back tears of frustration as your shaking hands busy themselves with fresh inventory?

You spin around, prepared to bark curses at him for trespassing into sacred, employee-only territory. He’s leaning against the door, beige suit-jacket a little roughed-up, hair slightly out of place.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your freedom,” you reply coolly, mirroring his pose against the far wall.

He smiles. You’d known him long enough to recognize that condescending expression — the wolfish twitch of his mustache.

Toying with you for sport.

“And you’re not?” Javi asks, the casual raise of his eyebrows deceptive compared to the darkness overtaking his gaze. “Everybody’s seen you, y’know, leaving bars half-naked with guys twice your age.”

Always an opportunist, the agent pushes on, taking advantage of your stunned silence. “N’ you used to be so shy, babygirl.” A chuckle. “The fuck did I do to you, huh?”

You stammer, wanting to tear into him for his crudeness (though he was right — mixing the breakup with tequila hadn’t failed to strip you of your inhibitions), but the man denies you the chance, gliding forward in a slow, wide step.

Softly. “You wear my gifts for them? Let ‘em fuck you in all those lil’ lace sets I got for you?”

He’s close now, and you’re beginning to see red. This was part of the reason behind the break-up in the first place — neither of you knew how to manage overwhelming care without dousing it in cruelty.

Those long-awaited fighting words finally manage to breach the threshold of your lips. “Yeah, actually, I do,” you drawl, arousal levelled by a red-hot rage coiling tighter and tighter within you, “Ruined a couple pairs.”

“Bullshit.” His consonants slice through his vowels, accusatory and harsh. “Bet that pussy doesn’t even get wet after bein’ trained by me, does it?”

Try not to choke on your snarl, girl. “‘Least I don’t have to get head a block down from my ex’s shop — z’that the only way you can still get hard, Peña?” You muster up a daring smirk, shouldering his challenge head-on. “Hoping you’ll see me walk by so you can finish inside your whore?”

Bull’s eye.

“Don’t act like you give a single fuck where I’m gettin’ my dick wet, cariño.” Every inch of him bristles something fierce, but with skill and practice, he keeps his anger in check — maintains the upper hand — looming over you to consecrate the threat.

“Just pissed that I’m fuckin’ another bitch’s throat when we both know that’s what yours’s made for, right?”

The coil snaps.

Before you can stop it, your hand is in the air, gunning straight for the tan skin over his cheekbone.

In a blink, he’s strangling your wrist, holding back your palm from making punishing contact. The following pause is thick and heavy, quickly overflowing with Javi’s rage-soaked hunger. Dark and dangerous, the man hones in on your glare—

And speaks, voice low.

“Y’know, I let her swallow my load—”

“Let go of me.”

“—but you can take the next one.”

And then he flips you over, brushing off your indignant whine, flattening your back against his chest. Javi is strong (he always has been) and there’s no point in resisting (there never was). He’s unzipped himself, hiked your skirt up, wrenched your panties to the side and forced himself inside you in a matter of seconds.

Dear God, forgive me for getting my fix.

A big hand wraps around your throat while unforgiving arms form a prison around your body. He tilts your head back to face him, savouring your tightness, your suffering, and the strangled moan of pleasure dripping from your lips with his hips’ every rough throw.

“Always gonna belong to me, huh?”

His whisper settles over your skin, heightening that already-unbearable bliss. Your muddled mind and slackened mouth scramble to form words beyond full full full, yes yes yes.

“F-fuck you, Peña—” you spit through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. You fingertips grow sore, pressed to bruise along his forearms. “You’re worse than me—you-you know it.”

Javi responds with a tightened grasp and diligent, skilled digits falling to manhandle your clothed breasts. “Yeah, fuck you, too—” and it’s strained, etched with long-awaited relief, “—fuckin’ spoiled—jealous brat.”

An all-encompassing jolt to your system — he’s found that aching bundle. He carves words into your sensitive clit: you were never going to be anything but mine, mine, mine. The arch in your spine deepens; the back of your head falls helplessly against his collarbone. And despite yourself — despite his venom — you grin, catching the broken hallelujah underpinning every vowel, every touch of his desperate, repressed desire.

It’s a symphony you both sing, a thought hanging so heavy in the room it almost becomes a tangible part of your filthy entanglement.

“If I can’t have you, baby, no one else in this world can.”

—

[only-lonely-star]

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut? thank you!

★ Can’t Sleep ★

~ Johnny Cade ~

Warnings - This is a NSFW story. Intercourse, kissing, touching. Passionate driven sex.

Summary - You and Johnny are not minors. Your boyfriend, Johnny, and you are laying down with one another trying to rest for the night. To alleviate the nagging frustration of “not being able to sleep” he suggests a rather busy activity.

Author’s Note - Thank you for being my first request!! 🤗 I’m not the best with smut, so please bear with me. This is like a headcanon of mine, but I feel like Johnny would leave his parents’ house the second he turned 18. He'd probably go on to live a peaceful life with his girlfriend, finally being able to give real love after putting up with so much bullshit from his parents. I honestly feel like he'd be a softie to someone he genuinely loves - hence why I made this more passionate than lustful. ENJOY!! 🫂

Word Count - 1.4k.

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You had finally relaxed in bed alongside your boyfriend, Johnny. He was sleeping over with you, snuggling up on top of you underneath the floral sheets and bedding. Your room was rather feminine, a contrast from Johnny’s stand-off-ish personality. He was never like that with you, though. He felt comfortable being able to lay atop your chest, his hands resting along your side. It was getting late, and you had the entire night for yourselves, just being able to enjoy each other’s company.

His head rested directly upon your breasts, the touch close and intimate. You stared up at the ceiling pondering on how you ended up with such a-

“Pervert!” you chuckled softly removing his hand from underneath the waistband of your shorts, no genuine meaning behind the tease.

You could feel his grin widen on your skin, his head slowly lifting to look you in the eye. “Can’t sleep,” He whispered with a kiss to your chest.

You allowed the kiss, debating whether or not you “couldn’t sleep” as well. The small caresses of his fingertips around the warm skin of your hips were tempting, to say the least.

“Johnny…” you began with a sigh, a smug grin appearing on your lips.

“Ten minutes, I’ll be knocked out cold,” he spoke softly, trying to reason with you more even though you’d mentally agreed at the sudden touch moments ago.

“You better sleep good,” you joked playfully, sliding your pink satin shorts down to your ankles.

Johnny wasted no time in grabbing a fistful of the covers and sheets to fling them down towards the end of the bed. He perched himself over you, visible excitement flickering in those big brown eyes you'd fallen in love with.

“Real good,” he added, his hand wandering around your white-laced panties. The undressing portion of these intimate moments was his favorite. He was allowed to see a more vulnerable side of yourself in exchange for a glimpse of his. He didn’t trust many, but he sure trusted you.

You were gazing into his eyes with the most lovesick expression manageable. It wasn’t missed by Johnny, his sweet smile inching closer to your own smiling lips.

“You know I love ya,” he murmured, his lips finally landing on yours, the kiss distracting you from the warm sensation of his fingers slipping inside you.

A moan escaped your lips, your inner walls clenching around the two fingers. “Oh fuck~”

The feeling alone caused a swirl of emotions and arousal, but mostly desire. Johnny still kneeled beside you in bed, the mere feel of his fingertips curled to hit that sweet spot of yours.

“Easy…” he coaxed, the motion slowing down to increase the pleasure. That grin of his never faltered, only growing at the sight of your inner thighs subconsciously closing on his hand.

You settled for a small exhale to help calm your eagerness. You adjusted one of the pillows to rest comfortably behind your head.

Johnny undressed himself as well, giving you quite a sight to see. His tanned skin and toned body hovering over yours. He set the shirt beside your body, scooting himself to rest between your legs.

“Go hard,” you requested, a small and lopsided smile tugging at your cheeks.

Johnny stopped and retrieved his fingers from your body slowly. “What?” He asked with a sly expression that said he'd be more than welcome to.

You nodded your head along, giving full permission for him to carry on, “That slow stuff ain’t enough, I need more of you, Johnny. As much as I can get,” You answered.

Johnny, more than happy to oblige, inched his lower half to gently graze your already bare cunt. He nodded his head, the fluster in his cheeks already visible. “Sure, baby.”

You couldn't take much more of laying there and waiting. You slipped your fingertips onto the waistband of his black lounge pants, gripping into the waistband of his boxers as well. He chuckled softly, enjoying the eagerness you seemed to be expressing.

Revealing his length, your breath hitched in your throat with pure excitement. You now understood why he couldn’t sleep- he was already hard.

“C’mere,” he spoke lowly, his voice commanding and authoritative. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, positioning your calves to rest over his shoulders.

You felt your wetness stream down your cunt. If you didn’t have him in, soon you’d go insane.

“Oh god… Johnny, I’m all yours,” You croaked out, a slight groan escaping your lips as the words fueled his desire for you.

He propped himself upright, one hand wandering to press his palm onto the skin below your breast. He held you steady, brushing his hardened cock against your wet folds. Your body squirmed, the need to feel him growing.

“Okay, gonna start now…” he whispered, his body tensing with the feeling of your wetness hitting his tip.

You shuddered, placing your hands on his upper biceps to hold on to for stability. You felt your insides go warm, Johnny’s cock making its entrance. A high-pitched moan fell from your lips, the sound echoing in the room.

“Oh…my…” You began to whine to Johnny, who made his movements rather fast like you'd requested. He pressed his body fully down to yours, thrusting his entire length inside you.

“-God-!” You finished with a loud moan, grasping onto his arms for more.

Johnny heard your voice loud and clear, making it his goal to see you crumble from his touch. He continued to hold you down with one hand, the other squeezing the life from your thigh resting on his chest, the rest of your leg bent over his shoulder.

“There ya go…” He smirked down to you, finding the pleasure building up inside of him as well. His voice was shaky as he tried to hold back a groan. He wasn't too keen on being vocal.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t shut up. Your moans constantly filled the room, overpowering the sound of the skin-to-skin contact being made.

His pace increased, his large cock growing to be surrounded by your natural damp feeling as he pulled in and out swiftly. As someone who was never vocal, a deep groan from Johnny was like a reward.

“You alright?” He asked, his voice still wavering from the immense pleasure he felt below.

You nodded, not able to speak in reply. Tilting your head to the side caused small moans to flood the room more easily. Johnny was relentless. That hot, butterfly-inducing feeling arose in your lower stomach.

“Johnny, Johnny~ don't stop...” you croaked out, your voice barely audible to him.

The constant pounding of his cock into your tight and wet cunt was pushing you towards your orgasm. Him as well - he'd never felt anyone so perfectly shaped for him.

“Baby…” He began with a hard swallow, his pace quickening. Your cries of pure bliss fed his lust.

“Baby, I’m almost done…fuck…” he cursed under his breath, his eyes glancing for yours to meet in this intimate and passionate moment.

You were panting, nearly breaking a sweat from just how the pleasure seemed to envelop you completely. You involuntarily arched your back, his cock hitting all the right places in a brisk movement.

“God, yes-“ You called out to him, releasing on him as your eyes squeezed shut.

The sight of your parted lips along with the abrupt grip around Johnny is what did it for him. Pulling himself out swiftly, his chest collapsed atop yours. He released directly on your soaked cunt. It was a very heart-racing sight, to say the least. The two of you panting against one another, heart to heart in an affectionate position made it all the better. Johnny brought his lips up to your neck, kissing you nonstop.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” He continuously murmured against your skin, leaving kisses everywhere.

You giggled softly, your fingers intertwining with the soft touch of his dark locks. You glanced at his head that rested upon your chest, similar to how you were laying with him before.

“I love you,” You replied with a sigh of both exhaustion and satisfaction.

Johnny kissed your chest a few more times before pulling away completely and kneeling upwards on your bed. You stared at him with doe-like eyes.

“Can you sleep now?” You teased, a giggle mellowing out the previous lustful tension.

Johnny extended a hand out to you, helping you off the bed. “After seeing you like that? Nah,” he chuckled, finding amusement in his cheeky reply.

“Excuses,” You retorted with a teasing bark of laughter.

You accepted his hand and stood on your feet. Johnny led you to the bathroom to get cleaned up before returning to bed for the night. Finally, some rest.

[undiscovered-horizon]

hello! if you accept requests for one peaceLive action (I hope)

could you write reader x sanji and I have a strange idea

what if with reader flirting.... another cook? and Sanji feels not just jealousy, but double jealousy... it's very strange, I know, but still I think it's quite interesting.

thank you in advance🙏💕

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

The smell of spices, ripe fruit and freshly made food hits your nostrils. It's markets like this that truly show the genius loci of the place. Mobs of people roll through the narrow spaces between stalls that are bending under the weight of displayed products.

You glance at Sanji, who's walking next to you. Judging by the bliss on his face, you'd think you're in heaven and not some unmarked island in the middle of nowhere.

Then a specific aroma reaches you - something you haven't smelled in a long time but could never forget. It's tangy, creamy and herbal...

"Can you smell it?" you turn to Sanji, suddenly stopping in your tracks. Excitement bubbles inside your chest and cherished memories of beautiful days with wonderful people flash before your eyes.

"You'll have to be a little more precise, love," he answers with undeniable fondness in his voice. His thumb is softly rubbing the skin of your hand.

"Lemon tarragon sauce," you say as if it's the most obvious thing. Looking around, you catch a glimpse of a pot filled with yellow-ish, creamy dip. "Right there!"

Tugging at his arm, you pull him in the direction of the stall and the source of the delightful smell. The market stand is managed by a man around your age. He has a head full of black, dense curls that perfectly suit his tanned skin. There's a clean dish towel tied around his neck as if it's an ascot. Skilled, muscular hands move between pans, pots and counters as he's restlessly grilling meat, fish and prawns to put them in cones made from newspaper and layer the tarragon sauce on top.

The street cook looks up from the dishes when he notices customers approaching. As his dark eyes set on you, the man suddenly perks up and a playful smile curves his raspberry-coloured lips.

"Mademoiselle," he says with a certain intensity to his voice. It almost sounds like he's asking you something.

Sanji immediately cringes at the man's tone. This suave, decadent drawl is something he's also used the very first time he saw you. And considering the fact that you're tightly holding his hand, it had worked perfectly. Now just to make sure that this terragon-smelling, ascot-wearing sleazy guy isn't as successful.

"How can I thank you for brightening up my day?"

"I'd love a serving of prawns with tarragon sauce," you say thrilled. It seems that you're either missing the flirtatious aura surrounding the man or you're willfully ignoring them.

Sanji feels his chest tighten and a bitter taste fills his mouth. Why would you be so excited about someone else's cooking? Worse - what if you will prefer that guy's food over his?

The street cook gets to grilling freshly caught prawns. His fingers skilfully dance in the air as he seasons the seafood and mixes it in the pan. Garlic and lemon pepper fragrances overthrow your senses.

The ascot-wearing man gives you a curious look. "What are you looking for at the end of the world, flower?" he asks.

But before you can answer, Sanji cuts in. "We're on a shore leave," he answers coldly. "Won't stay for long."

"That's a shame," the local chef continues unaffected by Sanji's impertinence. His eyes are fixed on you, eating you up like you're the local delicacy and not the seafood in the pan. "At night the island looks even better. Not that it could compare," he says with a wink.

In a swift move, the man moves the prawns from the pan onto a page from a newspaper. He quickly rolls the paper into a cone. Clearly, he's been doing this for a very long time.

"You're from around here, right?" you carry on the conversation.

"Born and raised, ma cherie," he answers with pride. That shouldn't come as a surprise - ever since the Marines built a base on the surrounding archipelago, the islands have been filled with immigrants who couldn't care less about local traditions and customs.

Sanji feels his irritation only growing, hearing how the pet name rolls off the man's tongue naturally, as though he's calling you by your given name. It feels wrong down to the marrow of his bones.

"So, as a local, can you recommend something to pass the time?"

The bitterness Sanji involuntarily tastes on his tongue is mixed with sweetness that only you can bring him. Of course you don't notice the flirtatious tone - you just want the tarragon sauce and something fun to do before tomorrow comes and the Straw Hats are off for another voyage.

Then, another nice thought stirs inside his head. Maybe you're too deep in love with Sanji to even notice another man's interest? The idea makes him giddy like he's a schoolgirl with a crush. He almost misses the next part of the conversation, too busy with his adorable, a little cringy, daydream:

"While the weather is still good and the nights are warm, skinny dipping is quite popular," the local cook answers while pouring tarragon sauce over the grilled prawns. "Much better with good company," he purrs out. "Prawns with tarragon sauce, on the house." The man hands you your order but with only one cocktail stick as though the blond chef next to you doesn't count as a customer.

Excited, you take the paper cone from the street vendor. But before you can try the food, Sanji takes the stick and takes the first bite.

A frown enters his face as he chews the prawn. Then he sighs in disappointment.

"Do you seriously call this cooking?" he asks the ascot-wearing man. His voice is laced with anger and disbelief. "A fishman would make a better sauce. It's missing white wine and anise. And there's too much garlic."

You hiss his name out but Sanji appears unaffected. Forcing a polite smile, you turn to the street vendor, who's glancing between you and your boyfriend with a look of superiority. "Thank you for the food and sorry for Grumpy over here."

Only when you're a few paces away from the vendor and definitely out of earshot, do you confront Sanji about his mordant humor.

"No need to get snappy."

He forces his lips into a thin line. "His food is shit and he keeps making piss poor attempts at flirting when you're clearly," he lifts your intertwined fingers, "not a mademoiselle." Although Sanji quotes the word in mockery, it sounds delicious coming from him. If you weren't already sharing his bed, right now you'd be seriously considering it. Planning it even.

"So that's what this is about?" you ask as laughter forces its way out of your chest. Considering how whipped you are for Sanji, it seems ridiculous that you could think romantically about other men. "You're jealous about a smooth-talking cook. Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it?" he picks up on your banter. That familiar, playful smile returns to his face. His eyes momentarily light up, flashing you a glint of various emotions: desire, amusement, adoration. "How many smooth-talking cooks have you seduced?"

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head dramatically. "Don't know. Never bothered to count. I'm just looking for someone to make me lemon tarragon sauce any time I want."

Sanji's hand again rubs the skin of your palm. His other hand reaches for your face, fingers brushing against your jaw. "For you, little dove, I'd make tarragon sauce every day."

"With white wine and anise?" you ask, leaning in slightly. His scent of cigarette smoke and frying oil fills your lungs. Suddenly, the market around you is nonexistent and there's only Sanji.

"The best lemon tarragon sauce you've ever had," he murmurs against your face. His nose brushes against your cheeks.

"I already have the best."

His lips taste like lemons, butter and herbs when he kisses you. Honestly, this is the best version of the sauce you've ever had.

[powerfulblob]

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!” 

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!” 

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us”  (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

[stinkysam]

Roronoa Zoro - Eat me.

Warning : blood, slight nsfw

Genre : smut-ish

Synopsis : “part two of siren!reader where reader tries to eat him again.” - @thewhitewolfmarvel / @diegojeanne

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : Part ONE

Zoro was asleep in his hammock. It was Sanji's turn to keep watch during the night, but he was asleep too, thanks to you. You made sure to sing loudly so everyone would be asleep. You even asked some of your friends to help you, to really put the nail in the coffin.

You sneaked once more into their ship, water pooling at your feet before walking past the blonde man. You had no interest in him. His body reeked of cigarettes, overtaking the nice smell he could've had.

You tiptoed your way into the shared bedroom and quickly spotted the green haired man, snoring loudly. Yeah. He was well asleep this time.

You swiftly jumped on his hammock, sitting on him. Zoro shifted a bit but didn't open his eyes, your friends still singing. Your wet and cold hands roamed over his body, under his clothes. Oh, there was a still fresh wound from his chest to his belly.

You smiled, licking your lips as you pulled his shirt up, your index stroking his scar. Then you let your nails dig in, reopening the wound as blood slightly pooled by your fingers. Zoro winced, moving a bit with a groan, obviously trying to wake up, but the melody was stronger, pulling him back into a peaceful sleep.

Leaning down, your tongue traveled on his warm and tanned skin, collecting the blood that was seeping through. It tasted delicious, just like you had imagined it to.

Then silence.

Your friends had left. You quickly looked around, seeing his two other companions still deep asleep, and you went back to what you were doing. Biting harshly on his chest, under his left boob, sharp teeth drawing flesh and blood.

Zoro woke up quickly with a gasp, grimacing at the pain. He fucking woke up again !? At least you had managed to get a bite. You stared at him, panicking, singing with your prettiest voice, but before you could get the first note out, his hand was on your mouth.

“What the fuck ?” The man said. “What did you do ?” He looked down, pulling his shirt back up to see his scar bleeding again and a stinging bite mark by his chest.

Then, not knowing what to do, you licked his palm, the strong taste of his skin overtaking everything. Zoro blinked, shocked. He remembered you. You were the man who tried to kiss him the other night ! He blushed.

“What are you doing ?” He asked quietly, not wanting to wake the others up, even though parts of him screamed at him to.

You nibbled at his fingers, pointy teeth tickling his skin before you grabbed his hand, pushing it down to your chest, making him feel how quickly your heart was beating. He squeezed it, his thumb stroking over your nipple.

“I wanna eat you.” You say, leaning closer, your breath fanning over his ear.

“W-what ?” Is all Zoro could say, blushing harder. Eat him ?

You nodded, your hands caressing him, ripping his shirt open as you leaned closer, licking his scar once more, your raspy tongue lapping at the dried blood.

“Can I eat you ?” Your tongue glided from his belly to his chest. “You taste delicious.” You whispered against his skin with your hot breath.

You nibbled at his collarbone, and as he wrapped one arm around you, you bit sharply, your teeth touching the bone, drawing a loud gasp out of him. You could break that bone so so easily.

Like a cat crunching on a bird.

Zoro winced at the pain as you continued to nibble at the hole you were digging. He gritted his teeth to not make a sound, but god damn did it hurt.

You began to grind on him, your clothed ass moving against his slowly growing bulge. He didn't know why it was turning him on. It was painful and uncomfortable, and worse of all, you had re-opened his biggest wound on his chest.

But as you grinded on him, so teasingly slowly, Zoro couldn't bring himself to push you away, as waves of pleasure came through, one after the other while your teeth dug into him, ripping flesh and skin. He had nearly lost his thumb, having to argue with you he still needed it to let you eat it entirely.

But you did kiss him, smearing blood on his face as you bit his lower lip a bit too sharply, making him bleed.

He had tried to give you a taste of your own medicine, but his biting only fueled yours more, drawing blood each time your teeth sunk in his flesh. Chewing on his shoulder, you could feel the muscles move under your tongue as he wrapped his second arm around you. Caging you in.

Your nails dug in his skin as well, thin red lines forming on his chest before you began fondling his tits. You moved your head down to his boobs, almost ripping his nipples off with how hard you were sucking on them, as if that's what you were trying to do.

Even his thighs didn't remain intact as he had to stop you from biting his cock off. While your teeth where in his thighs, your cold hands worked his dick, slowly pushing him over the edge before licking him clean with your stinging tongue.

You continued like this all night long, eating small parts of him as you sucked him dry of blood and cum. As the morning came, you swiftly glided out of his grasp and jumped back into the water.

“What's all these bite marks over your body ?” Asked Nami when Zoro walked out a few hours later. “So much blood, did you fight someone ?”

“I don't know, must've been biten…”

“What ?” Nami looked at him, confused. “They're obviously not from mosquitoes. Did Luffy mistook you for his food ?”

“No, not really.”