#Sun put some damn pants on

[zenkaiankokuart]

I blame @froppu for inspiring this idea.

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. body harm. heavy torture. waterboarding. trauma. crude language. hurt/no comfort. explicit suicidal thoughts. self mutilation/harm mentioned.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price. simon riley x f!reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x f!reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

He didn't want to get out of bed that day, and the Captain calling for a private meeting just as he dared opening his eyes gave him enough reason to know he was right.

Putting on his uniform was as easy as ever. Really, he hardly ever took it off, anyway. It took about twenty seconds to put on his boots and he was off.

It was cold outside.

The night before had been stormy, so if Johnny's lungs weren't used the damn weather by now, he would be cursing the gods for it. It was so cloudy that he just truly wanted to grab a coffee, and sleep again.

Hell, even breakfast before a meeting would do.

His pace wasn't rushed, the sun slowly coming up. As soon as he spotted Simon walking over to the Captain's office as well, seemingly unaware of his presence, he couldn't help but smirk and slow down. He did his best to keep his boots from making noise, holding his breath. He got closer, and closer.

Then, promptly bumped nose first on the back of Simon's head.

"Argh!" he grunted, holding his nose. Simon made no sound at all and just kept on walking. Johnny knew damn well the cocky tilt on the Lieutenant's head as they got near the Captain's office. "Bastard. Could've warned me, instead of making me nearly break my damn nose".

"Why? It's funnier like this" Simon said, the timber in his voice so amused it made Johnny roll his eyes, not really upset at all.

"To you, maybe".

"And that's how it's supposed to be, Johnny".

The conversation was cut short as soon as they approached the Captain's door. He was arguing with someone on the phone. It was clear he was trying not to make much noise, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Simon and him shared a look, and waited for a moment before knocking on the door.

"Get in" the Captain's voice cut through the silence, hanging up the phone before standing up, looking at the two men with a hard expression.

"What's going on?" Simon questioned, standing right next to Johnny, their shoulders brushing.

"We've got a mole" the Captain said, his teeth clenched. Johnny watched as he paced behind his desk, his shoulders hardened.

"A mole?" he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the bastard? We'll drag him to the—"

"Goddammit, Johnny. It's the fucking lass" the Captain snapped.

In that moment, the room went colder than the freaky weather outside. The three men stared at each other for one long second.

"We've five lasses" Simon started, the trembling in his voice so evident that Johnny wanted to reach out, and grab his arm to stabilize him. He didn't, as he was trembling just as badly. "You better give me a name right now, or I'll start breaking your shit".

"If it weren't yours, do you think I would be calling you two idiots?" the Captain growled out. He opened his mouth, ready to continue, but Johnny spoke first.

"Is this some kind of ridiculous, fucked up joke?" he blurted out. He just couldn't think. He just couldn't believe it. "She's been here for nearly ten years. Capt'n, there must be a mistake. And you, you can't possibly believe this shit!" he blurted out at Simon, turning to look at him.

Simon was as stiff as a wooden board.

And he was so damn angry it nearly made Johnny shit his pants.

"Is there proof? Do you have it on you? Is it positive?" Simon questioned, the words flowing, barely controlled. Johnny's mouth fell open. "How can you be sure?"

"LT!" he gasped in surprise, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up.

"Answer me" Simon demanded the Captain, ignoring him.

It took them two hours to go through the evidence, more than once. You've been selling information about other team's missions, and they had your fingerprints. It was almost as if you weren't even trying to hide it at all.

"Isn't it too simple, too easy?" Simon said, not for the first time. "Price, you gotta admit it's at least suspicious. She's not stupid".

"Capt'n, the lass' a smart one. Not even the lamest bastard in this damn base could pull a mistake this big" Johnny added. Needing to sooth himself, he discreetly placed his hand right next to Simon's on the desk.

The slightest curl of the Lieutenant's pinky across his made him take a deep breath.

"That's your pussydrunk heads talking to you. This is unmistakable and we can't risk it" the Captain shook his head, pointing at the evidence in front of them. They both went quiet at that, too troubled to feel offended. "Take her downstairs. We'll do as I ordered, in five. You either do it yourselves, or I'll call someone else" the Captain said. Simple as that.

If the Captain saw Simon snatch his hand back from Johnny's grip before they both stormed out of his office, he didn't say.

What was there to say, anyway?

An empty box suffered all of the Lieutenant's anger as soon as they stepped out. Snapped in half with kicks and thrown to the other side of the hall, alarming a few soldiers that, just taking a look at them, turned away instantly.

Johnny couldn't possibly do anything to make Simon feel any better if he was just as angry and appalled. Hurt, and incredibly confused, mostly. They didn't exchange a single word as they reached the mess hall, their boots heavy against the floor.

Simon's steps faltered when they saw you sitting at the usual table. Johnny clenched his jaw and walked forward, forcing Simon to do the same.

They both watched as you sipped on your mug, no doubt waiting for them to have breakfast. He saw you take a bite of the bread, your eyes brightening as you turned to them, recognizing their footsteps easily.

It's been nine years, after all.

Johnny's heart trembled at the sight. Anxiety and pain bloomed in his chest, but he forced himself to swallow it down. They had orders.

"It's so darn late!" you complained, your voice a little muffled around your mouthful, looking amused. Ridiculous. "Where were you? Come on, let's eat".

Beautiful.

It had been too easy. You didn't resist their touch at all, raising an eyebrow. Johnny heard you nearly choke when you noticed their grip wasn't playful, asking Simon what was happening, you feet dangling between the two of them.

Johnny's grip was tight, fighting to keep his expression blank, but it got fucking difficult the moment you realized where they were taking you, screaming, fighting, and struggling against them, demanding explanations.

The room had been used for many years, even before they got here. It either reeked of shit, piss or blood and bleach. It's never been pleasant.

The Captain was already waiting there.

He kept silent as Simon punched you on the stomach. Kept silent as you begged and pleaded, trying to meet their eyes, their hands tying you to the chair.

The Captain had ordered not to explain anything at first.

And it was fucking hard.

To see you get punched.

To be the one to gag you, despite your attempts to bite down on his fingers. To be the one who made you choke on your fears, on your pain.

Your panic.

Simon's eyes were detached, stuck within himself, the trembling in his hands barely noticeable, but Johnny saw it.

He felt it in his own hands.

Every time the Captain ordered him to yank on your hair. Every time he pressed that disgusting wet rag against your face and poured the water on it. Every time his gray eyes met your pleading gaze.

With each of your screams.

He saw Simon flinch with every one of them.

After the Captain kicked your lights out, the three of them had a serious conversation. Simon and Johnny were quiet, both of them staring at the Captain as if he had grown a second head right in front of them.

"No. I'm not doing that shit".

"Neither am I. Are you out of your fucking mind, Price?"

"Now, lads, I'm not asking. If you don't do it, I'll grab another two. We need information and the evidence is clear" the Captain cut them off. He didn't look happy about it, but he didn't seem too worried, either. "Tomorrow. That's an order".

Simon and Johnny sat on the stairs that night, with you right behind the door, both of them smoking silently. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny's tears, and when Simon turned away, neither said anything.

Your screams were a stab in his heart. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

When Price told him what they were going to do because you "wouldn't open your mouth", he had wanted to kill Price right there, but the evidence was too big and they had orders, and it didn't matter what he thought. He was but a soldier. Price gave the orders, and it wasn't his place to question them.

Not too much, anyway.

But that didn't mean he had to like them.

Had it been anybody else, Simon wouldn't have hesitated. He would've dragged the dickhead to the basement himself.

But you?

Price had ordered him to go slow, to make you suffer as the nails were ripped off slowly enough to make you pass out, but he couldn't.

He couldn't go against his orders, but he could do them his way.

If it's done quick enough, the pain concentrates and dissipates faster, leaving only raw, throbbing fingertips behind.

That's the best he could do.

As you pushed your head against his chest, pleading and screaming in pain as Price asked you questions you didn't seem to hear, another nail would come off.

"Give him their names. Please" he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, but you were too gone with pain to pay attention.

Price would order him to go on, and Simon would grit his teeth, and do it as fast as possible.

Every scream made him want to crawl into the tiniest cave, and rot for the eternity.

If you were truly a traitor, he didn't care. He wanted you to break yourself free and steal their guns so you could end them right there. He wanted you to win and take revenge, dance on their bodies for all he cared.

When you said it was done between the two of you, he was glad his back was facing you. Otherwise, you would've noticed the trembling of his lips under the balaclava.

Orders. He had to follow orders.

When the toenails started coming off, your screams reached a deeper pitch. It was as if it wasn't you anymore, you looked like a whole different person. Simon pressed his head to your leg, panting, whispering and begging you to say their names.

"Please" he would whisper, gripping your ankles in hope to ground you away from the pain.

When he was two toenails into the second foot, deep cuts along the arch of the two of them, he decided to pause, as if coming out of a trance. Price had gone out half an hour ago, looking agitated, so he took full advantage of that for a moment.

Simon stopped, looking up at you, but you were slowly passing out just from the little break you were allowed when he stopped.

Johnny was shaking, his shoulder tense as he looked straight to the door in front of you, from where Price bursted inside the room again.

"Follow me" Price said, his mustache shaking. It didn't take long for Johnny and Simon to do so.

The last time he had been this angry, he had nearly killed himself in the middle of his room.

You were innocent.

Simon was faster than Johnny only for a second.

He punched Price so hard that he could hear a finger breaking, but he didn't give a single fuck.

He knew it wasn't Price's fault.

Still, it felt damn good.

Yells could be heard all across the base, confused soldiers who knew nothing of the situation yet would just stare at each other.

"Garrick caught him trying to escape" Price raised his voice again. "He's been detained and has already confessed. The problem is that—"

"I don't fucking care!" Simon snapped, gripping Price's desk hard enough to break the shit out of it. "Bring him here, goddammit. I'll put a bullet through his brain".

"I'm trying to explain why I fucking can't do—"

"The fuck am I here for, then? I'm done with this fucking shit hole" he yelled, not interested in whatever Price had to say anymore.

Johnny and him rushed downstairs, panting, shaking. Price didn't leave his office, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

Simon fell to his knees and untied you as quickly as he could, watching you blink your eyes open, your gaze distant.

"I'm so fucking sorry, love. You'll be okay, I fucking promise you that. Fuck, I'm so sorry... I'll carry you, hold on. Hold on..." he whispered, sliding an arm under your legs and carrying you bride style.

He was struggling with his own anger, unable to control his body as he normally would, bumping his shoulders on the walls as he rushed upstairs.

"Watch her head! You're gonna fucking drop her. Let me help—"

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Don't fucking try me right now".

If Johnny was hurt by his words, he genuinely didn't care right now. He would get over it.

When he finally reached the clinic, he snapped at however was available to get their fucking arses up.

He knew it wasn't the right thing, but he couldn't afford to be respectful. Not right now. A few medics surrounded you immediately, but one of them started pushing him out.

They kicked him out of your room.

They fucking kicked him out.

Away from you.

"You've two broken fingers, and she doesn't need you. You ain't going in" the head doctor told him. Simon's eyebrows furrowed, his lips curling in a snarl behind the mask, but she was having none of that. "Shut it, you big brute. Now do as I say, or I'm kicking you out of my clinic".

Johnny sat next to him, but Simon wouldn't look away from the door to your room. He sat quietly, not even blinking as the doctor helped him with his fingers. They didn't even hurt.

He didn't matter.

It took you two days to wake up.

As soon as he was allowed in, he barely left your side, only to take a piss or grab a coffee. He would watch the doctors check on you, acting like a dog ready to snap and bite their heads off every time your fingers flicked in your sleep when they touched you.

"L.T. You gotta get some rest" Johnny mumbled, a hand on Simon's shoulder. It was only the two of them and you there. As it should be.

"Not interested".

"Its been four days since you've eaten anything".

"Good for me. Was planning on going on a diet, actually".

"Simon".

"That's my name".

Smack.

Simon finally looks away from your face to look at Johnny with wide eyes, the back of his head burning. "The fuck was that?"

"That's what you get for being a dickhead" Johnny replied, his eyes fixed on you. "She's safe here. Come on, we gotta be fed and rested, so she can kill us when she wakes up".

It took Johnny a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag Simon out. They ate in silence, and slept.

Only a couple of hours.

The moment Simon heard your first scream, just in the back of his mind, he got up to his feet, rushing to the clinic. He wasn't certain if it was his mind or if it was truly you.

When he saw you on the floor, crawling away from him, he felt both relieved and terrified. He sank to the floor instantly, his hands in full display, hoping to ease your fear.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he said, his eyes wide, taking in your expression. He will never forget the way you were looking at him, as if he wasn't Simon. Not anymore.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to approach you anymore, didn't know how to even begin.

"W-we were tricked" he explained, at a complete loss. "A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago, when we brought you here. I'm so—"

"You're sorry" you crackled, and it felt like a stab to his heart. "You're sorry".

It didn't matter what he did, you refused to listen to him.

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleaded, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Fuck, you should never do so. Lovie... please".

When you started sobbing, shaking and keeping yourself away from him, Simon broke down as well.

He moved slowly, taking his mask off, and leaving it on the floor between the two of you. He didn't dare looking at you, tears or not, but he wanted you to stop being scared at him.

He would've preferred you stabbed him. He would've preferred you made him eat glass and then shot him between the eyebrows.

But scared? He wanted to bite his own fingers off to make sure he would never hurt you again.

Simon was embarrassed. Ashamed.

He had followed orders, but he should've pressed Price harder. He should've helped you somehow instead of just doing as he was told.

The space between the two of you felt disturbing and too big. He wanted to hold you, to kiss your face, and never let go.

But you've been clear. It was over.

He didn't dare trying to convince you.

All he had left was his regret.

by implied I meant fucking obviously. i couldn't leave johnny out, i love him sm. but if you don't like it just picture them as rlly close buddies, then. they might kiss, but who doesn't kiss their buddies, am I right?

i was gonna wait until tomorrow, but i finished way faster than I thought I would, and I'm hyped as hell, so here you go. a gift!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold

[ffsjustletmesleep]

hii dear, i was wondering if you could write some fluff with daryl, where reader finds out he carries a polariod picture of her? he could have got it from Glenn since he got a camera😅 it could be on the earlier seasons (your pic) bc season 1 to 4 daryl have my heart😭💕

A/N: Hii tysm for requesting!! I really hope this is what you asked for <3 Enjoy!

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Season 4 at The Prison

Summary: Finding a picture of you in Daryl's bag while doing the laundry.

Daryl had come back from a run with Rick; the two of them had gone on a run to scavenge supplies from the nearby structures and ended up finding only a few things. He was exhausted and beat up on not being able to find much, only a few boxes of medicine and a couple of containers of food. The moment he walked into your cell, he collapsed on the bed with a grunt, feeling warmth from where you previously laid. 

You were busy sorting through your clothes since you had planned on doing laundry, letting out a small hum as you watched him come in and collapse on the bed. Pouting slightly at his tired state, you made your way across the shared cell and rubbed his back, pressing a small kiss to his head. “I’m gonna wash some of our clothes, m’kay Dar?” you spoke softly as you combed your fingers through his hair.

He let out another grunt, though it was softer this time as he grew tired, the scent of you on the pillow in his face slowly lulling him to sleep. You smiled to yourself and kissed his head once more before standing up and picking up his bag before leaving the cell and making your way to the prison’s laundry room. 

Once you made your way into the room, you set your bags down on the counter, humming softly to yourself as you went through them, sorting your clothes from pants and shirts. Daryl always brought you all kinds of clothes he found on runs, stuff he’d think you’d like, like dresses or skirts. When you finished with your clothes, you moved onto his, separating his shirts and pants, finding all kinds of random stuff in his bag like bolts and trash and other sorts of junk. 

While you cleaned it out, you shook it over the counter, hearing a small thump and raising your eyebrows as you saw a picture fall out of it. You put the bag down and picked it up, gently shaking the dirt off of it and smiling to yourself at it. It was a picture of you sitting with Maggie and Carl when you guys were sitting in the grass in the sun laughing. You felt your cheeks burning slightly as you huffed softly to yourself, slipping it into your pocket and taking the clothes before going and doing the laundry.

After a few hours of washing your clothes (his having to be washed twice), you made your way back to the cell block, hanging them to dry on the top bunk above Daryl as he started to wake up, hearing you come back with a small tired groan as he rolled over on his back. “What’re ya’ doin’ that’s so damn loud...?” he grumbled, looking up at you through his messy bangs. You let out a small sigh and set the basket down once you finished hanging them up and sat next to him.

“I told you I was going to do laundry, Dar…” You smiled and brushed his hair out of his face as you looked down at him. He scoffed and scooted closer to you, pulling on your wrist and setting your hand on his chest. “Mmm, knew that…” he mumbled, frowning at you. With a soft hum, you pulled the picture out from your pocket and held it out in front of him, watching as his eyes widened and his face burned red before he snatched it from you.

“Why ya always goin’ through ma’ shit?” he asked with an annoyed tone, looking up at you. Though he wasn’t really annoyed, just embarrassed. You giggled softly and put your hands in your lap as you tilted your head. “For the 7 millionth timeeee Daryl, I was doing your laundry because all your clothes stink,” you teased. His eyes narrowed at you and scoffed, pinching your side playfully before pulling you into bed.

You laughed as he pulled you closer, feeling his arms wrap around you and his lips press against your hair. “Just be quiet… Got it from Glenn a while back, alright?” he admitted, his ears reddening as he hid his face in your neck.

“Awww really? He took a picture and gave it to you?” You giggled, pulling his head up and kissing his face all over. He let out an annoyed groan as he held your waist, gripping your shirt tightly and accepting his fate.

“I'll have to ask him for one next time, or maybe I’ll just steal his camera…” you whispered, looking down at him and seeing the irritated expression on his face disappear as you kissed him. 

He melted into the kiss and sighed softly against your lips, his expression softening as he pulled away and looked up at you as you lay on top of him. “Yer lucky I love ya’..” he mumbled as he rubbed your back gently.

[defmaybe]

Talk Too Much

TWICE’s Myoi Mina x Male Reader

5.4k words

Part One of Untitled Mina Series

Title inspired by COIN’s Talk Too Much

Sometimes, you just have to say the thought that lingers in your mind out loud. Maybe it’s a form of resistance, standing up for yourself. Maybe it’s a proclamation of love. In your case, it’s something that’s going to lighten someone’s day up.

A tongue click. “Looking spicy today, boss. I’m burning because of ya.”

She glances back, not wavered by your words. Her strides remain calm, walking towards her office with a lethal poise. A smirk appears on her face. A scoff is heard from her lips. And she just looks away.

Maybe you can ramp it up next time.

—

The work day plays out as usual—emails, messing around with Figma, interviewing users. You put in your best like you’ve always been doing. It’s exhausting, surely, but you take some pride in giving your all like this. You’re proud of yourself.

In a heartbeat, the short clock hand teases the number five. The sun casts orange hue all over the office, gleaming it with the tranquil of the evening, ready to collapse under the weight of workers heading home. You sit in your seat, analyzing your customer’s answers from the morning. Your questions are clever, you’ve been told. Extracting users’ needs is your expertise, and you couldn’t be more–

A Slack notification appears.

Myoi Mina

Meet me in my office before you go home. I’ll clock you in for overtime.

Damn, another late evening. 

You let out a sigh, leaning back against the chair. Your eyes glance towards her office. She remains fixated on her computer, typing out something. Her posture remains as confident as ever, even in her chair—straightened back, determined eyes. She’s just untouchable.

Oh, to make her crumble under your body.

—

“So, you do know the reason you’re in here, right?” Mina asks, tapping her Caran d’Ache on the table—steady, expressionless. You sit in your seat, raising your eyebrows. It’s probably nothing much. You know her.

You take a careless guess, “Extra prep for tomorrow’s interviews?” putting one leg on top of the other. Your hand thrums restlessly on your thigh, foot tapping on the floor.

“No interviews tomorrow. I’ve pushed it to Wednesday in case you become too,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “drained.”

You let out a chuckle, crossing your arms together on your chest. “Come on, boss, you know I never get tired. I once did twenty interviews in a day!”

Mina scoffs, a small smile escapes her lips. “And I admire that. Still, I’m certain that this is going to be the new extreme for you.”

You raise your eyebrows. This is intriguing. Maybe this will get you a promotion. “Well, whatever it is, I’m ready.”

Mina nods approvingly, with a slight upturn on her lips. “You have a lot of tangible qualities. We’d be pleased to have more employees like you, really.”

Safe to say that lights up a smile on your face. “I’m flattered, boss.”

“I’m happy that we’ve come to this conclusion. Now, let’s get back to our topic.”

She rises from her chair, sauntering around the table. Her motion is reserved. Every step is careful. She settles in the space between you and her wooden table before setting herself on it. 

She looks down at you, smirking. Her flowery scent hits your nose. Heat builds up within your body. You stare into her eyes, and you’re sure that she’s inviting your gaze—the fire in her eyes, the slightly louder breathing than usual, the upturn of her lips, so you let your eyes wander. That slightly creased white shirt is so tempting, a deep neckline that’s just begging for you to rip it apart. Her belt, leather black, it’d sure look good on her wrists while you ruin her. The black skirt drapes over her legs nicely. If it would be just a few inches shorter.

You just can’t resist the temptations anymore. Your cock is fucking straining in your pants.

“God, you’re just smoking hot, Mina.”

It finally slips out.

Mina chuckles, covering her mouth. She leans forward just a little, enough to reveal the curves of her bra-clad cleavage. Oh, to rip it off and feast on her nipples while she moans like a slut under you. You reach out to her neckline, teasing it gently—cotton. Your fingers slide towards that top button, ready to undo it and free her from the confines of her clothes. Just imagine fucking her senseless in her own office, pressing her face against the table while you rut into her tight ass like you’ve always wished. You just have all the power in the world right now.

“Tell me,” Mina says, tilting your chin up, her body shivering slightly at your teasing. You’re affecting her, “what have you been wanting to do to me?”

You look into her eyes. They’re burning, and you can’t just contain your ferocity anymore.

“I’ve always wanted to take you, especially in this room, baby. Every time you walk past me, I just want to rip whatever you’re wearing and bury myself in your ass. God, you’re just begging to be fucked with it. I wanna know how that tight ass feels around my cock, and I’m going to cum inside while you’re just my little slut.”

Mina chuckles as the first button comes off, showing more of the breathtaking curves of her tits. You trail lower for the second, with a scorching need to expose every inch of her porcelain skin.

“That’s rather … explicit, don’t you think?” Mina says coyly, scratching your chin gently with her fingers. More buttons slowly come off with your hand. She’s just letting you do anything. You’re the one in control here.

“Your orders, baby,” you reply, smirking all assuredly. You lean closer towards her chest, taking in that flowery scent of her body. Your hand undoes the last button of her shirt, and the edge of it falls along with the gravity. She’s exposed, all for you to touch.

Mina smiles, satisfied with your assertions. “Would you mind taking my skirt off first? There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Oh, to finally see her ass after years of ogling on it, wishing to clap it against your thighs.

Your hand glides down towards her belt, undoing it with ease, as if it’s a practiced move. She lets out a pleased hum as the belt comes off—another layer of obstruction gone. You then reach for the zipper of her skirt, eager to pull it down. The air is thick with tension, ready to snap at any second. You couldn’t be more prepared to make her your cumdump.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you wanna see the surprise?” Mina huffs, hand trembling under your chin.

You chuckle. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Your fingers find her zipper, before pulling it down gently. The sound of it just almost breaks you—so intense, so irresistible.

Until it reaches the bottom stop. The clicking sound elicits a smile from the two of you.

“What are you waiting for?” Mina quips.

Without another word, you grab the waistband of her frustratingly long skirt. Fucking finally. Her ass is yours.

And you pull it down. 

What the fuck?

It’s a fucking strap-on.

Your mouth hangs open in shock. Strange? Peculiar? Bizarre? Those words cannot describe the sheer astonishment you feel on what’s under her skirt. You try to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Your body freezes, unable to make sense of the black cock poking into your face, only shivering with what you’re unable to process. You’re supposed to be the one using a cock here!

Mina runs her hand in your hair, playing with locks and curls on your head. You hear a soft giggle from above, but your focus remains on her throbbing plastic cock. Images of what she could do with it flash into your head. You’re pinned against the door, defenseless, as her cock drills into your ass rhythmically. Wet clapping sounds echo through the room—might even leak out to the main office. Lube drips down your thighs onto the floor. The room reeks of sweat, sex, and your perfumes blended together. She gives your ass a slap, and your moan becomes a melody for the entire floor.

And more.

Your face is pressed onto her stack of documents on the table, body shaking with her cock splitting you open. A pool of cum sits at the door. You’re oversensitive from your first orgasm, but she keeps attacking your prostate with an unmatched precision. Sweat drips down your forehead, ruining the papers with your mark of submission. “Oh, you’re ruining the next meeting’s plans!” Mina chides, without any signs of halting her barrage. She’s just wasting papers printing these out.

And more. This is just embarrassing, staring at her cock and imagining how it could ruin you into a slut.

Your leg is raised in the air. It’s for easier access, Mina said—should’ve kept yourself more flexible. Another pool of cum sits under her desk, not as much as the one at the door, sadly. Mina thrusts into you relentlessly, nails digging into your skin. Your face is pressed against the window, all visible for the workers going home to see. It creaks slightly with her motion. “I’m going to clean my window with your cum, well, if you’re not drained yet at this point.”

You’re fucked.

“Do you think black fits me? I’m pretty bad with colors, so I’d like some external inputs.”

And why the fuck are you still hard?

You look up at her, finding a smile so full of kindness—the kind of smile parents use to assure their children. It’s supposed to be warm. It’s supposed to be calming, but you’re fucking certain that there’s nothing but sin in her heart—lust with a tinge of pride, to be more specific.

“I’ll take that as a yes, glad that you love it,” Mina says, ruffling your hair softly. You just can’t process this anymore—so foolish with human dynamics. Your control is demolished the instant that her cock springs free, imagining the ways she can ruin you—against the door, on the table (on top of that, her meeting documents), against the window, cock dangling pathetically and giving everybody below a free show.

Suddenly, she grips a handful of your hair, not harsh, but effectively locking your eyes on hers. She leans in a little closer. You can see the small wrinkles under her eyes, the small pimples on her forehead, the streak on her lips. Her minty breaths brush against your face. It makes her more human, less of a Hel. Somehow, though, that just makes her more terrifying.

Humans shouldn’t be capable of wielding this kind of terror.

“So, I have lube under my desk, just for cases like this. Off-document disciplinary sessions, you know?” Mina says with a chuckle, eyes so full of faux-compassion. “Although I’m in the mood for trying something new.”

You can only gulp. Mind races with the possibilities of how she’ll make your ass ready for her cock. Honey? Vaseline? Condensed milk? A bead of sweat falls down from your forehead. Your body trembles in her hold. The scent of her body overwhelms you. You can’t think straight anymore.

“I did say that you possess a lot of tangible qualities, right?”

You sheepishly nod, barely prepared for her next words. It’s just all dread, no room for any levity.

“Well, there’s one thing that has been an ongoing problem with you” — and she leans closer to your ears, still on the desk — “you just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

The realization hits.

You are a bitch. All this time, you’ve been a foul-mouthed fucker who’s practically begging to be put in his place. Everybody has grown tired of you, but no one dared to take any action. Those boundary breaches, those uncalled-for teases, those flirty incitements, they were tabbed. And now, it’s time for you to pay it up.

“Therefore, you and your mouth need to be taught a lesson, one that’s going to stick.”

Mina gets down from her table, standing up straight—resolute. Her white top hangs open, all unbuttoned, but still as classy as always. Her black, artificial cock stands tall, ready to take on your fuckholes without any mercy.

“Kneel, please.”

Trembling, you get up from the chair. You’re a little taller than her, but that means nothing with her having everything in her hand like this. You feel reluctant to get down; a part of you hasn’t given up yet. 

But an order is an order.

You sink to your knees, her throbbing cock in your face. It’s so close. The scent of her perfume and sweat wafts into your nose. Your hands tremble. Your body shakes with dread. Your stomach churns.

You’re hard, though.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips part slightly, barely ready for her relentless violation. She grabs a handful of your hair with one hand, the other aiming her cock towards your mouth. Your mouth quivers in fear. The air is thick with anticipation—the way she’s going to feel in your mouth, the way it’s going to hit the back of your throat, the way that you might cum pitifully from sucking her cock alone.

You flinch at the first touch of her tip on your lips. It’s so cold, so synthetic. Mina pushes it inside further, parting you more. Your body writhes as her width spreads your mouth out. It’s so big. Too big. The air becomes her—her sweat, her perfume, her cock. You feel nauseous from the revolting taste of plastic. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever savored. Consider it a new experience. She pushes more, and it’s starting to trigger your gag reflex. You spasm uncontrollably, making retching sounds in your throat. This is too much for you, but there’s still a few centimeters left. She drills it in, and her cock begins to stretch out the back of your throat. She’s just too big for you. Your hands seek grips by your side. You settle on her thighs. Your eyes flutter. You can’t breathe. Fuck. And with one final push, she’s at the hilt. Your throat is fucking ruined. The sound of your breath against her body rings in your ears.

Fuck.

You’re just a toy for her now.

“How was it?” Mina scoffs, running her fingers through your hair. You try to focus on her eyes, but her cock is buried so deep in your mouth it robbed a handful of your senses away—vision included. So, you just give her thighs a few squeezes.

Mina giggles, relishing in the scene of her employee getting his mouth fucked out like this. “Oh, I don’t know morse code, baby. I think you’ll have to use your mouth.”

Of course, she presses you harder into her cock.

Your body writhes violently in her hold. You can’t breathe on her hips. Your eyes are fluttering, and they’re getting all teary. You’re just a lump of flesh, begging to be used and abused.

Suddenly, she lets go. Your head springs off, nape landing on the chair’s edge. It stings, but that can’t compare to the happiness you feel when a puff of air hits your lungs again. A relieved smile escapes your lips. You look up into Mina’s eyes. She smirks, and they’re still gleaming with feigned compassion. Drool falls off your lips onto your clothes, onto the floor. You’re a mess. It’s all dirty, but that’s the last of your priorities.

“Sorry, didn’t see my cock in your mouth earlier,” she says, smiling shyly.

You say nothing, still trying to catch your breath. Your heart races in your chest. Your body aches with humiliation. The synthetic taste of her cock lingers in your mouth, and you’re sure that you’re going to remember this for a long time.

Mina squats down, hand reaching out for your lips. You can only smile wearily against the chair, mind all scattered. She wipes the mess on your lips away, cleaning your face with her delicate hand. For one second, it feels so soothing, and you think that it’d be better if this is genuine. You can feel your smile widening, face shifting closer towards her fingers, nuzzling against them. It’s just so affectionate that you forget how she fucked your face mere seconds ago.

You hear Mina chuckle. It’s probably amusing her to see her boytoy loving her touches like this. She continues to wipe the remnants of spit off your face like a baby. No chastising. No mocking. Just pure warmth. Each stroke only makes you sink deeper into comfort that you forget you’re going to be facefucked by her in just a minute. You just try to cling on to something, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

Oh, she just broke you into pieces.

Finally, she lets go of your face, leaving you cold on the floor again. Your head rests against the chair—spent. Your spasms subside as your body finally finds its rhythm once more. Your breathing comes back to normal.

Mina smiles, before asking, “What do good boys say after they get something?”

“Thank you.” It slips off your debauched lips so easily.

“Thank you, who?” She presses into the tip of your nose lightly with a smile that just makes you melt.

“Thank you, Miss Myoi!”

The answer brings out a chuckle from Mina’s lips. She just looks so happy. “Ah, you’re close! Again, thank you, who?”

This isn’t just a quick patch, it’s a whole revamp on your brain.

“Thank you, mommy!”

It plagues your veins. It’s buried in your heart. It’s tattooed on your skin—permanent.

“Good boy.” She smiles, and you earn another ruffle in your hair.

There’s no coming back from this.

“Now, I’m going to stand up, alright? Don’t worry, mommy’s not going anywhere,” Mina says, cupping your cheek. 

“Yes, mommy,” you reply, nuzzling and whimpering against her palm.

The comfort on your face is short-lived as she stands up, and you can only whine in disappointment. She towers over you once more. Her cock dangles just a few centimeters away from your face, so slick with your filthy drool. It wants you to suck again, suck on it until your mommy cums, and you’re ready to have your breath taken away for her pleasure.

Voice still honeyed, Mina says, “Time to get up, baby boy. Time to put that mouth to use.”

In a haste, you get up to your knees again. The synthetic smell of her cock hits your nose, but you don’t feel so disgusted by it like you did mere minutes ago. Instead, you part your lips instinctively, becoming a willing boytoy for her. Your eyes look up into Mina’s eyes, begging her to bury her cock in your mouth.

“Aw, I’m so proud of you. You’re such a perfect slut for mommy, ready to suck my cock like this,” Mina praises, pushing herself forward. A smile escapes your eager lips. You’re so close to feeling her again. 

She grabs a handful of your hair, a little lighter than last time, and she guides you towards her cock. You stretch your mouth wider, readying yourself for her crushing width. Your throat relaxes. You’re going to take all of her in your mouth like a good little slut.

“Say ah,” Mina tells you.

“Ah …”

Your body doesn’t jolt the instant her tip touches your lips. You’re doing better. Her cock invades more and more of your mouth, filling it with its plastic taste, poking the back of your throat. Your body begins to shake as your breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. The scent of her perfume and her cock fill your nostrils. And in a heartbeat, you take all of her.

At the hilt, you can barely breathe. Your eyes flutter with the overwhelming size of her cock. You can only cling on to her thighs pathetically. Her nails bury deep in your hair. The feeling, though, it’s neither rejection nor disdain. It’s acceptance and pride. You’re at peace with how your body was made for her cock. You’re at peace with how you were born to be her slut.

And you couldn’t be happier.

Suddenly, the grip in your hair tightens, making you wince around her cock in pain. Your toe curls at the nerve-snapping sensation. Your fingers dig into her thighs. She begins to grind her hips against your face. Your throat makes guttural, animalistic sounds as her tip grinds the back of it. You’ve never heard that before. Your eyes quiver with the rolling of her hips. Everything is so blurry now. Tears form in your eyes. Your nose gets squished on her waist as she moves. Your lungs are begging for air, but it's so hard to breathe. It’s suffocating. You panic.

“What’s the matter, baby boy? Can’t breathe?” Mina asks, voice so fucking full of smugness. The answer is up for your grasp, if not for the black plastic cock stuffing your mouth like this.

She continues to grind her hips against your mouth, fucking your face at a tempo only she can hear. Your breathing remains lacking in any kind of rhythm. 

Someone’s probably into it.

But not you.

Oh, and she just moaned for the first time in the evening. She grinds herself deeper, having that G-spot pleasured at a little cost of silencing that trigger-happy mouth.

“Your lack of manners won’t be tolerated, baby boy. You don’t let the adults do the talking alone.” Mina scolds, but her hips remain pressed against your ruined, spit-soaked face. She moans again, finally getting the insides of her properly fucked. The scents of her and plastic consume you like a hypnosis. She’s fucking your face, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Thankfully, she pushes your head back, leaving just her tip resting inside your mouth, and you know damn well enough to take a deep breath. It smells disgusting, blighting your lungs and blood vessels with a scorching plague, but it’s better than suffocation. Spit coats her cock, glistening it under the evening sunlight. It drips down to the floor—the first mark of filth in this office. Your eyes shoot up to Mina, who’s still giving you an infuriatingly warm smile.

She just won’t let you go so easily.

Mina laughs, still manages to keep that kind-and-loving façade after fucking your mouth open.

Twice.

She squints as she smiles, pulling your cheeks lovingly like you’re a child. Your body is still spasming, throat fucked-out. Your vision is all blurry with your tears. Your lips quiver against the head of her cock. Though, if she revels in having you like this, who are you to argue?

“That was so great, baby. Mommy’s gonna cum if you keep this up,” Mina praises, ruffling your hair fondly. You can feel warmth glowing around her body again. You know it’s a devious manipulation. You’re not supposed to fall for it, but your heart has already yielded, “and you’re going to be a cock-drunk mess by the time we’re done. How does that sound? Do you wanna make mommy cum?”

Your breathing slowly stabilizes. Your sight becomes clearer. It’s coming back. It’s your brief reprieve, and you’re cherishing every second of it, knowing how Mina can just rob it in a matter of seconds. She meets your gaze, anticipating an answer. The thought of your throat being used vigorously shouldn’t entice you this much. But with your cock twitching in your pants like this, you can only do the best you can—a whimper. 

“Aw, you’re so cute!” Mina says, pouting, pulling on your cheeks again. It’s so affectionate, so blissful, and suddenly, you feel safe with her once more. You nuzzle against her soft palm feebly, letting out a string of whimpers against the tip of her cock. The smell of the office’s hand soap fills your nostrils. Your toes are still twitching softly in the aftershocks. The remnants of her skull-fucking linger in your bones, reminding you of the woman you belong to.

“Now, say the magic word first, and I’ll fuck that mouth of yours.” Mina coos, hand cupping your cheeks. Her skin still feels so smooth against your face, so warm.

Your mind blanks against her cock. What’s the magic word?

Mina seems to notice, letting out a soft chuckle as your brain goes into request timeout. “When good boys want something, what do they say?”

Oh, that word.

“Please?”

“Please, who?” she presses. She needs you to say it. It is just overkill at this point, but you’re too broken for any kind of resistance.

“Please, mommy!”

Mina’s smile grows, satisfied with you. “Good boy!” she says, and she lets her hand run through the locks and curls of your hair. She feels how your hair brushes against her skin. She feels your warmth in her hand. She feels how you’re awfully, utterly fucking hers.

And here comes another afterlife-teasing session.

She grabs your hair—not painful, not nerve-snapping, but enough to yank your head back and forth. Your mouth is stretched open by her cock, as she ravishes your throat again. You’re pushed against her hips, forehead pressing on her taut stomach, hands gripping on her thighs. Your body convulses, fighting for air as your nose inhales nothing but the synthetic smell of her cock. Your toes curl in your shoes. Your knees hurt. Your eyes flutter. It’s a physical struggle. 

But a mental nirvana.

With her cock, it’s not an immediate fondness. The shock of seeing that strap for the first time still lingers in your head, if faintly. But with how she just slowly breaks you down from that point, it’s calculated. It’s masterful. Your brain fully knows that it’s a manipulation, a slow, torturous one, but your heart just can’t resist. The way she takes control of your head, the way her cock stabs the back of your throat, the way she praises you and degrades you, they’re just irresistible.

In short, you’re her nasty little slut.

“So hungry for mommy’s cock, aren’t you?” Mina asks, pressing you firmly against her leather. Her cock is already poking the back of your throat. It’s activating your gag reflex over and over. You make bestial, pornographic noises from your vocal chords. They echo in your ears, displacing the silence in the room, and it just fills you with an insurmountable amount of dread.

And she pulls back, leaving just the tip resting between your swollen lips. More drool falls to the floor. Your body trembles. Your toe curls. Your stomach churns.

“Look up here. I wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

You struggle to meet her eyes, still fluttering in the mind-breaking sensations, so she tips your chin up slightly. And when you find her gaze, it’s still so full of that deceitful kindness. There’s comfort to it, just that her actions are a tad violent.

“Making eye contact with the people you talk to is important, you know? It would show that you’re giving your attention to them,” Mina says, and you just whimper feebly as a response.

“Oh, yes, fucking your mouth. Totally forgot about that.”

She plunges her length into you, stretching those cock-craving lips open. You flinch slightly. No throat poking this time, and you don’t gag as much as you did. Your grips on her thighs relax, not digging so deep as before. And she pulls back. Breathing becomes easier like this, small margin, but anything is better than suffocation. You do your absolute best to keep your eyes on hers. Another thrust, another recoil, and Mina begins to moan. 

Your mouth can be used for good, after all.

She probably finds that it would be a little bullshit to start slow, considering that she pressed your face against her waist more than twice. That’s the tempo. She yanks your head back and forth around her cock, and she’ll moan every time it stretches your mouth open—so raw, so guttural.

You wince every time she thrusts her length into your pesky mouth, but you’re adjusting to it. It’s like you have a choice, after all. You’re living with it. You place your tongue on the underside of her cock, trying not to resist, trying to make it easy for the two of you. Your hands slide up her thighs, making her moans grow louder.

“Should’ve known how to shut your fucking mouth earlier, because, god, you’re such a perfect cocksleeve,” Mina says, voice cracking a little. She’s getting weaker. She’s getting lost in pleasure, but you just can’t do shit about that—too busy sucking fake dick overtime, at least you get money for this. “Two birds with one stone, you know? Just one cock for you to shut the fuck up and for me to cum.”

You whimper weakly against her length, attempting to keep that precious eye contact. It’s hard, though, when she just keeps yanking your head back and forth like this. Your hands slide towards her backside, finding that plump, muscular ass you were dying to clap your thighs against (well, before an executive decision says that your mouth looks better when fucked).

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I do jump squats,” Mina huffs between the filthy moans. Your spit is out of control at this point. An entire pool forms in the suffocating space between you and her—a mark of your submission. You make desperate gagging sounds against her length. The plastic taste of it fills your mouth. Your air is her. Just her—her sweat, her plastic cock, her perfume. You fight through your tears to look her in the eyes. Oh, and it’s fucking beautiful.

Everything is fucking beautiful.

Mina’s moans begin to climb the scale. Her grip on your hair tightens, yanking you harsher than ever. Her ass clenches in your palms. Her breathing quickens. A bead of sweat falls on your head. This is it—the moment you’ve been waiting for—from the first moment you see her strap, from the first throat fucking, from the first utterance of ‘mommy’. Myoi Mina, your boss, your mommy, your fucking everything, is going to cum from fucking your face.

Put it in your résumé: Myoi Mina’s whore.

It begins with how her body stiffens, with a loud, guttural groan that escapes her mouth. You are at the tip of her cock, and you should’ve expected her to push you onto her hips, to feel her rhythm, her trembling, her unravelling. Air is knocked out of your lungs at the instant your nose is pressed against the leather. Her body arches, half-collapsing onto the edge of her desk. She can barely hold it together. Your lips are stretched around the base of her strap, savoring that disgusting plastic taste. Her ass tightens in your hands. Your gagging sounds blend with her moans. Everything is exploding.

A fracture appears. Mina’s eyes flutter in the wake of her ecstasy. Her head falls backwards as she buries herself in your face through her high. She’s lost. She’s lost in the pleasure, succumbing to the sweetness of her orgasm. It’s a reminder of her mortality. She’s not a goddess. She’s vulnerable. She can break, just like you.

But god, you would trade everything if it means that you are hers. Plus, two jobs at a single company—UI designer and your boss’ slut. 

HRs love it.

It abates, eventually. Mina catches her breath quickly, gazing down at you to watch her own destruction. Your face remains stuck to her hips, head tilting to the side just a little to gather that treasured air into your lungs. You shake, aftershocks linger. Your hands are pressed between her ass and the table. She looks at you, smiling, so proud of you. Her hands run through your hair one last time, feeling the mess she made, before dragging you off her cock. Spit falls to the ground, but you’re too exhausted to care. You get a good look at her—her eyes, her smile. She’s satisfied. She’s fulfilled. All because of you.

“You did so well for mommy,” Mina says, voice cracking a little. She cups your face lovingly, and you can’t help but to nuzzle against her palm, letting out a soft whimper. She just feels so warm, and you figure you must cling to her. You must cling to her for your dear life. “We’re halfway there already.”

Halfway there.

One hole down, one more to go.

Anything for your mommy.

—

[hellishjoel]

winter sun

547 words / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog | seasons of life challenge masterlist

word: cozy

warnings/information: fluff, established marriage, allusions to smut

a/n: I'm from the midwest and it is so cold outside, I didn't want to leave my bed - so I pictured joel not wanting to leave it either. my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

The warm morning sun filters through his semi-sheer curtains, the fabric sun-bleached and faded. 

In the depth of winter, corners of the house that the heat bustling through the old vents can’t reach are left cold, determined to hold onto winter’s bite. But you can’t feel it under the thick comforter, your body naturally searching for your husband with roaming hands. 

Rolling away from the window, you’re determined to grip onto the trail of sleepiness still in your grasp. Your arm slowly wraps around his wide body, fingers threading through the thick and coarse hair speckled from below his belly button to his flannel pajama pants. 

Joel lets out a long sigh, his large hand reaching back and hooking around the back of your thigh. It’s small, but it’s his way of saying good morning, baby. I’m awake with you. 

“You’re warm,” his sleep-cloaked voice mutters against his pillow. 

You’re only awake enough to offer him a hum of agreement, resting your forehead against the freckled skin of his broad back. 

Just as you teeter on the edge of sleep, Joel shifts in your embrace, rolling you onto your back with an effortless motion. The way your bodies align feels seamless, as though it's the natural rhythm of two souls bound by a love that’s only grown deep over time.

“Could stay here forever,” Joel mutters, his soft lips already sponging whisker-tickling kisses along your jawline. “Feel so perfect under me. Always.”

A needy sigh escapes you, frustration mingling with desire at how easily he draws you in, even in the early morning hours. Joel nestles between your thighs, your legs hooking instinctively around his hips.

Your fingers comb through the thick beard he sports only for winter, all salt and pepper and perfectly rough between your legs when he spoils you with his tongue. 

The day, however, is already pressing against the edges of your mind, bringing responsibilities with it. “I need to grab some groceries,” you murmur as his lips claim the curve of your neck, taking and taking without hesitation. “And do you still want lasagna tonight?”

Joel mutters something noncommittal, your hand palming his eager hard-on as he nudges your thighs farther apart with his own body. 

Even now, you can’t seem to let go of the to-do list swirling in your head. “And the dog needs a bath,” you say, your voice softer but insistent.

Joel lets out a low chuckle, the warmth of it vibrating through you. “Jesus Christ, woman,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement and affection. His smile lines deepen as he shakes his head. “The food, the laundry, even the damn dog—just let me take care of you.” 

He reaches for his wristwatch on the side table, his brow furrowing as he squints at the time. The precious moments with you, sated and nestled in his bed, are slipping away far too quickly. “I want you in this bed nice and cozy, got it?” 

You smile nice and wide, giving him a confirmed nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“That’s my girl,” Joel mutters, the words filled with pride as he presses a kiss to your lips. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he disappears beneath the comforter, determined to spoil you in a way only he can.

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

[shewroteaworld]

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

 “What I do?” You whined. 

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried. 

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 

Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

[lex-the-flex]

Soured Whiskey

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Your one night stand with a handsome stranger at the bar leads to a different endeavor.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief cursing, small moments of action and violence, brief drinking, Logan being protective, MEGA FLUFF, SMUT 18+ – Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral (f! receiving), fingering, skin + body appreciation, Logan being a gentleman and the reader being lovely. (Basically distant soulmates).

A/N: I'm officially seeing Deadpool and Wolverine tomorrow and I'm so excited! But in the meantime, I thought I'd add to the pile of Wolverine smut.

Strings of ornately hung light bulbs decorate the bar, bringing a cozy old-school vibe to the modernized saloon. Closing the door behind you, the cold city atmosphere was instantly transformed into a quaint and warm invitation. You’re friends couldn’t stop raving about this new bar and that you all just had to go here and try the endless menu of cocktails and tapas. 

So through your busy work week, your friends informed you to meet at the bar on Friday once the sun started to go down. But much to your dismay, your friends bailed on you, even after repaying that they’d be there for you and help you unwind, to de-stress.

You got stood up. By your own good friends who you thought had your back. 

Sighing to yourself, it was too late to give up now. You were already here, so you might as well order a drink. 

Sitting at the bar, you sat up straight on the stool, not paying attention to who was sitting next to you. It didn’t matter. Patiently waiting for the bartender, the sight of someone sitting next to you crosses your peripheral vision. The man’s muscular arms lean against the counter, reaching for a couple of fresh cashews. 

“Hey there, what can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Just a whiskey sour, please.” You reply. 

“Got it, and same for you, sir?” He questions, pushing a singular whiskey glass to the person to your right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” The stranger replies. 

The stranger’s gruff voice takes you by surprise, but you pay him no mind. 

Rolling the coaster in between his fingers, the bartender places your bright whiskey sour in front of you. The refreshing yellow foamy drink is adorned with a lemon swirl and a dried cherry for garnish. Just the sight of it makes a well-deserved smile rise through your lips. Taking a sip of the cold drink, the bartender turns to the back wall with the more expensive bottles of liquor, and passes it to the stranger on your right. 

Getting a glimpse his way, the man finally comes into view. His masculine features take over your attention; the man’s full dark head of hair, beard, and strong jaw seem to put you in a hypnotic state. Glancing towards you, his light hazel eyes gaze into your e/c orbs, providing a somewhat welcoming gaze, however his stern and annoyed expression makes you turn away. 

Returning to your drink, the stranger lowers his arm next to yours, letting you see a freshly lit cigar in his hand. Blowing the smoke away from you, he silently watches you take another swig of your drink before checking the empty text message bubble once again. 

“Rough day?” He asks. 

Sighing into your hands, you jokingly squint your eyes at the stranger, and set your phone down.

“You have no idea. I‘be been craving this damn drink all day.” You reply.

Running your index finger around the rim of the almost empty glass. Smirking, the stranger raises his glass towards yours. 

“Name’s Logan.” He says. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you Logan.” You answer, clinking your glass with his. 

Finishing your drinks and dinner in a comfortable silence, Logan silently watches you, observing some of your mannerisms that stand out to him. The way you sit perfectly straight, how you wipe your mouth after every bite, and even the outfit you picked for yourself. Your light grey cardigan sits perfectly on your shoulders along with the casual white button-up shirt that was underneath it. The pair of black dress pants and ankle boots make you look professional yet comfortable and he liked that. 

However, this minuscule moment of peace didn’t last long. The scent of strong liquor and the hint of douchebag lingers in the air behind you and Logan. Taking another puff of his cigar, Logan glances your way, warning you to not pay these drunken idiots any attention. 

Polishing off the remainder of your drink, Logan waves for the bartender, and prepares to take your tab. 

“I got it, Logan. Don’t worry about me.” You advise. 

Placing his hand over yours, Logan stops you from using your debit card, motioning to the three men behind you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, darlin’.” He warns. 

“You shouldn’t worry about her, man. We can take care of her. We’ll take her off your hands.” One of the drunk men sneers. 

“No thanks, boys. I’m happy where I stand.” You state, looking at Logan, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. 

Joining you and Logan, the bartender slams his hands on the counter. 

“I told the three of you that you’re not allowed in here! Get out before there’s trouble.” He orders.

“Or what, man? What will you do? We’ve been coming here since… this place opened.” The idiot spurs, stuttering to give a clear answer. 

Blowing off his friends, the young man stumbles to your left side, slipping on the way to nonchalantly lean on the bar, still desperate to impress you. Ignoring him, Logan watches the other two men leave the bar altogether, clearly done with their friend’s shit. 

“Lemme take you out and show you a good time, beautiful. Surely I can do better than the guy on your right. I know I can fuck you better than him.” He explains. 

Not noticing that he’s crossed your personal space line, you instinctively back up into Logan, who’s nearly at his breaking point. 

“Look, bub. She said no. So, take the hint and get the hell out of here. She’s with me.” Logan rebuttals, just as a wave of rage overtakes his voice. 

The sudden sense of feeling claustrophobic creeps out on every single inch of your skin. Glancing down at your hands, you discover that you’re now white-knuckling the edge of the wooden countertop, and Logan begins to ball his fist around his whiskey glass. 

Leaning closer to you, the young man tries once again, and fully crosses the line. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me treat you better.” He whispers next to your face. 

Suddenly, you see red. The stranger’s hand touches your mid thigh and you merely fly back on the barstool. 

“Get the fuck off me!” You shout, pushing the man away. 

Within seconds, Logan pushes himself from his own seat, and grabs the young man by his hoodie. Punching the man in the face, he falls to the floor with a streak of blood leaking out of his nose. Wiping his nose, the bartender manages to pull Logan away, before returning to tend to the young man. Tugging Logan closer, he subconsciously wraps his arms around your frame, making sure that you’re out of harm's way. 

“You alright?” He asks in a low whisper.

Silently nodding, the two of you refuse to move, and your hand is still lingering on his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You answer.

*****

Within seconds of shutting your front door behind you, Logan was on you. Deepening the kiss between you both, you could tell that he wanted more. Pushing you against the door, a growl escapes from Logan as he picks you up and walks into the kitchen. Placing you on the marble countertop, his hands work quickly to rid you of the cardigan on your shoulders.

Gliding his lips down to your neck, you wrap your legs around Logan’s waist. Feeling a small moan escape from your lips, you swore that he might fuck you on the cold countertop. But he wasn’t that rebellious. Tearing his own jacket off, Logan carefully carries you through the apartment and down the hallway to your bedroom.

Sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he momentarily breaks the space between you and lifts your shirt from your body. Tossing it across the room, Logan bends down and takes your face in his hands.

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” Logan advises, gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m sure. I want this with you. And only you.” You consent with a nod. 

Silently nodding, Logan slowly leans in and pulls you in passionately. His kiss is slow and steady, allowing him to relax at this moment. Feeling his heart swell, Logan couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted him in the way that you do.

Discarding the remainder of both of your clothes, you lay down on the comforter, melting into the soft fabric and Logan follows suit. Gripping his broad shoulders, your fingers press into his hot skin as his lips lock onto yours. Trailing his hand down your bare body, Logan’s fingers reach beneath the waistband of your lacy underwear and press against your clit.

Meeting your throbbing folds with his fingertips, you break the kiss and moan into his mouth. Staring into his hazel eyes, his orbs light up, fueling the sensation of your lust. Rubbing circles into your clit, Logan descends your body with a series of longing kisses to each part he passes.

Discarding the fabric from your core, Logan kisses the sensitive skin of each of your thighs, feeling you shake before him. His scruff makes you chuckle as he can hear your heartbeat ringing in his ears. Licking your folds, your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you watch Logan become more and more mesmerized by you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” He whispers in the dark.

Connecting his lips with your clit, a moan escapes from your lips. Pushing his tongue past your entrance, Logan holds your hips in place to keep you from squirming. Gripping the thin comforter, you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to handle the heat rising in your face.

Watching you from afar, Logan continues to eat you out in a steady fashion, letting you enjoy the moment. Running your fingers through his thick hair, you can feel a butterfly sensation rising up to your core. Sensing your body working with his, Logan gently squeezes your hips, lifting you just a touch. Tasting your orgasm reaching its end, your toes curl against the bedding and you cum against Logan’s tongue.

Gasping for air, Logan crawls before you, and his entire physique comes to life. His strong muscles and veins don’t frighten you like so many others, but here everything about him brings you comfort. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Logan balances himself over you, still making sure this is what you want.

“I want you, Logan. All of you, I trust you.” You declare, wrapping your arms around him.

Your vow brings the thought of tears to his tortured eyes, knowing that he has truly deserved this moment.

Lovingly holding his face, Logan briefly touches the tip of your nose with his.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He responds.

“You won’t.” You advise him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Logan rubs the tip of his cock in time with your folds, sending excitement through his veins. Sliding himself past your entrance, the two of you look at each other, sharing a loving moan. Thrusting his hips together, Logan longs to be deep inside you. He wanted to forget about the world and get lost in you.

Burying his face in your neck, Logan leaves no space between the two of you. Moving in time with his loving thrusts, the sensation of Logan’s manhood against your walls felt like a new stress reliever that you didn’t know you needed. Surrendering to this new wave of euphoria, your fingers run along the strong muscles along Logan’s back, touching the flexing fibers beneath his hot skin. Sinking deeper into you, Logan finds your sensitive spot, causing you to aggressively scratch his back. 

Clutching the back of his head, the new scars heal within seconds, whilst Logan slightly groans from the light ripple of pain. A burning sensation of heat starts to rise in your core, you could no longer handle the tension, and Logan continues to ride out the remainder of your orgasm in pure awe of you. Gasping for air, Logan surrounds his arms around your body, and rolls the two of you on your sides. 

Pressing his forehead on yours, Logan’s warmth cascades over you, giving you a blanket of warmth in the cool room. Shifting in his arms, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, just as you trace his dimples. 

“Well, thank you for a very interesting night, Logan.” You whisper. 

Smiling, the two of you share a loving laugh together, and Logan pulls the comforter over you, succumbing to the warmth beneath the blanket. 

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

[milla-frenchy]

Out of the QZ

1k5 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you act like a brat with Joel. He puts you in place Warnings: 18+ mdni. spanking, fingering, size kink, degradation, oral (m), ball sucking, rough sex, piv. No age specified

a/n:  Fic inspired by this post (I was supposed to work on my wips, damn) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶 @arcanefox207 for the famous gif 😍❤️ and @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“I'm fuckin’ sick of your damn mood. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Yeah? Well stop talking to me. Do what you usually do, grumble. It'll be better for everyone,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Joel looked at you, nostrils flaring. You had been getting on his nerves since this morning. He had looked at you questioningly at first, not used to those mood swings from you. He gave you some space, but as the day progressed it had been harder for him to keep his cool. In the afternoon, his patience was melting like snow in the sun, and several warning glances from him didn’t change it. You kept huffing every time he opened his mouth. 

You were finally approaching the place where you were going to spend the night, before reaching Lincoln the next day. Backpacks filled with aluminum spools for Bill's fence, and medicine for Frank. It was the first time you left the QZ in months and Joel was nervous. And you... you were in an inexplicably bad mood. And now his anger was rising fully.

“Go check behind the house. I'll check the side.”

“Can't you just do it yourself, mister I-do-everything-better-than-everyone-else?”

“Now that’s enough!” he growled, grabbing your wrist sharply and pulling you into the small house.

“Sit,” he said, after he slammed the door behind you, hands on his hips and a dark look on his face.

“I'm not a damn dog, Joel. Who do you think you are?”

He grabbed your arm and before you realized it he sat on the bed, and lay you over his lap.

“I'm tired of your bullshit,” he said, before crushing his hand on your pants-covered ass.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you whined. He had spanked you hard, hand flat, and it hurt like hell. You couldn't believe it.

“You're done?” he asked, jaw clenched.

You still couldn't help yourself, couldn’t stop. Now really pissed off at being held like that, and punished.

“That's all you got, Miller?”

His forearm pressed against your back just before he spanked you a second time, making you cry out this time.

“Shut up. We didn't check the perimeter because of your fuckin’ attitude,” he barked while holding you on his knees.

“Oh, that’s great, Joel. Use your strength if that’s the only way you know how to deal with me.”

“You're actin’ like a brat, I treat you like one, that's what I'm doin’. You're done?”

“Fuck… you….” you answered as calmly as you were able to.

His hand landed a third time, in the exact same spot.

“Fuck,” you gasped, unable to stop your thighs from squeezing against each together.

“What the… you’re turned on?!”

“No!! No, of course not!”

He spanked you again and this time you couldn’t hold back a moan from escaping your lips. When you felt his cock pressing against you, you stopped breathing for a second.

“Joel…,” you didn’t know if you were still pissed or aroused. Probably both.

You didn't even know what was going on with you. Your bad mood had been consuming you all day, without any reason. You were just pissed and couldn’t keep it to yourself. 

And nothing had ever happened between Joel and you so far. You trusted each other when you were out of the QZ, you saw each other more or less regularly inside its walls, but nothing more.

When he pulled your pants down your thighs, you stopped moving, totally disconcerted by his gesture.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Told you to shut up,” he said in a low voice, his hand caressing your burning ass. You tried to pull away, without much conviction. His fist was tight on your jacket, holding you in place.

You stopped struggling when he reached your pussy and glided his hand along your folds.

“We shouldn’t…”

“You’ve been on my nerves all day, now shut the fuck up.”

His middle finger slid between your drooling folds. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. That’s what was itching you all day? You needed to be spanked like the damn brat that you’ve been?”

“I… I just…” your words got stuck in your throat as he started to finger fuck you, before quickly adding a second one. His cock was pressing against you, and it seemed fucking big.

“Shit, you’re drippin’.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” you whined, when he brushed your clit. Way too perfectly. As if the apocalypse had never dampened his ease at fingering a cunt. And maybe it never had. Maybe he fucked every month or every week or more in the QZ, what did you know about it, anyway?

He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered.

“You really thought I’d let you come?” he scoffed. “Now you’re gonna do as I say and kneel. Got it?” he asked, brows furrowed, after getting up. You fell on your knees, your pants still at mid-thighs.

“You’re gonna suck my cock,” he said, undoing his belt then unzipping, “at least I won’t hear you grawl or whine, for some time.”

He pulled his cock out and having felt it against you earlier didn’t make you less surprised. It was massive, with a reddish tip, twitching and flowing with precum.

“Yeah, I know, it’s big. Now suck it.”

His cock in one hand, he placed the other on the back of your neck, forcing you closer. You rounded your lips as best you could, taking his tip in your mouth. The precum invaded your throat, flowing slowly. You sucked his tip, trying to get used to its width. You didn't have much choice, with his hands holding you like a fuck doll. He didn't try to push himself further, but he was holding you in place. 

“Much better for my nerves when your mouth’s full.”

You felt his gaze lowered towards you and you looked up. His jaw was clenched, tense. He raised his eyebrows as if to say that you shouldn’t have messed with him.

You kept sucking him until he pulled back and took his massive balls in his hand. “Suck,” he growled. “They’ve been tense all day, because of your attitude.”

Tongue flat, you licked each of them, sucking their delicate skin, covered in some slightly gray hairs, mixed with your saliva that had flowed down his shaft when you blew him off.

“That’s it, actin’ like a good girl now, finally…” He was jerking off slowly, his impressive length just above your nose.

“I should paint your face, but I wanna feel that greedy cunt around me. Get on the bed, undressed. On your back. Wanna see your face when I’m gonna be balls deep in your pussy.”

You took off your clothes and lay down, thinking he would undress too. But he stayed fully dressed, coat on, and he was even hotter like this.

He didn’t wait, didn’t try to give you time. As soon as he settled between your thighs he thrust in one go, his hand around your neck. “Oh, fuck!” you cried when he bottomed out. He used you, growling about how tight you were, thrusting hard, keeping the same pace until your moans filled the room. Pulling out, he growled, “Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve to come so quickly.” He manhandled you on all fours and climbed on the bed, kneeling behind you, holding onto your hips before thrusting in again. He took all he needed, finally releasing the pressure of the day, using your pussy like he would use his fist.

“You’re gonna lose that goddamn attitude, now?” he asked, panting in your ear.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, Joel. Please, let me come.”

“Come then… fuckin’ brat.”

You hastily slid your hand down to your pussy, twirling your clit under your finger. It took only a few seconds for you to pulse on his shaft, a dumb grin on your face. When you stopped shaking, you felt him close to coming too, but he didn't pull out.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m about to come,” he groaned, his hand tightening around the back of your neck and pulling you sharply towards him.

“We shouldn't keep going, pull out, pull out, please!”

“If you ever act like that again, next time I won’t pull out. Got it?” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “And if it sticks, you’ll be the one who’ll have to deal with a damn kid. And I kinda like the idea, right now. We clear?”

“Yes, yes!”

He pulled out at the last moment, growling, his cum covering the inside of your thighs, and then finally released you. He let his weight collapse on top of you, both of you lying on the bed, catching your breath.

“You should have told me sooner that taking a cock was all you needed to calm down,” he grunted.

He stood up, and tucked his cock in his pants.

“Now, get dressed, and go check behind the house. I’ll check the side. Let’s hope your moans didn’t attract a shit ton of infected. Jesus.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: It's hump day, my dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don’t see Bucky at all the next day. His motorcycle is gone when you leave for work and when you come back. You assume he has his own work to do, or some running around. He did just move in. You try not to take it personally but you are disappointed. 

This is a lot more fun than all those other times. You’re not as stressed, not as insecure. Maybe it’s because you’re not hoping for more. Because you took a page out of Angelique’s book and stopped caring. One way or another, you’re going to get rid of your v-card. It doesn’t have to be special, it just has to happen. 

On your day off, you decide to get rid of the prickly weeds around the front porch. It's the perfect opportunity for you to show off your shortest shorts and blast some tunes while you’re at it. You put on your rose gold headphone and the best of girly pop. 

You smell coffee but don’t see your neighbour. You don’t want to be too obvious. You get down on your knees and pull-on the dollar store gardening gloves. You’re not good at any of this but these damn plants keep scratching your ankles. 

Before long, your alternative motives drift away as you wrestle with roots. You yank free a particularly stubborn weed and send up a cloud of dandelion fluff. You sneeze into the back of the glove. A shadow passes over you and a gentle tap lands on your shoulder. 

You squeak and drop the leaves. You pull off your headphones and twist to look up at Bucky. Your shoulder tingles where he touched. It’s hard to think someone like him can be so soft. 

“I’m headed into town...” he crosses his arms, the cleft in his chin deepening as he mulls his words, “you said you wanted to test out the motorcycle...” 

“Oh really!” You exclaim as you look up at him. You focus on his face, even as you’re innately aware of how close your are to something else. “Oh, Bucky, that’s so awesome. I’ve been so excited for this.” You gather up the compost bag and he offers his hand. He hauls you up to your feet and reluctantly let go. “I’ve been so patient.” 

He hums, “you can’t wear those. You’ll get burned.” 

He looks down at your shorts. You giggle. You pull off your gloves and clutch them together. “I’ll get changed. I have the perfect pants!” 

He just nods. 

“I’ll wait,” he assures and points over his shoulder. 

You grin and spin to rush away, headphones bouncing around your neck. You dump the gloves and bag on the porch and clatter through the door. You stop to wipe the dirt off your knees and strip off your shorts before you get to the bedroom. 

You search out the fake leather leggings with all the fake zippers. The sun won’t be kind but you don’t mind. You slip into them and find a strappy red top with a bandana style cut at the hem. The bejeweled letters across the front read ‘sinful’. It’s cheesy but you love it. 

You find a pair of sunglasses with thick black cat eyes and trade your sandals for leather booties. You hook your purse across your body as you come out with a jangle of your keys. You zip those away with your phone as you come down the stair. 

Your chest jiggles with each step as your upper tummy peeks out beneath the fabric. Bucky looks over and arches a brow. You approach as he takes a helmet from the handlebar. 

“Found a spare,” he offers. 

You take it and thank him. His eyes skitter between you and the bike. You giggle and tap your heels in excitement. You're genuinely amped up for this. 

“It’s so cool!” You say, “oh, will you take a picture of me with the bike?” 

He squints and his cheek dimples. He shrugs, “sure.” 

“Amazing,” you unzip the small crossbody pouch, “here.” 

You unlock your phone, your background a picture of you, Angelique, and another friend, Tracy, your backscreen. You bring up the camera and hand it over. 

“Oh, can I get on or?” You face the motorcycle. 

“Sure, be careful.” 

You put the helmet on and let the straps hang loose. First you pose in front of it and cock your hip. He aims the lens, your flowery blue and purple case looks dainty in his large tattooed hands. Then you cautiously approach. He comes closer and puts his hand under your elbow to help you onto the backseat. You notice the backrest that wasn’t there before and the shining new chrome bolts that hold it on. 

You straddle it as he backs up. You stick your tongue out for another picture. Then you smile and give a peace sign. 

He lowers the phone and nears, offering it to you. You snag his forearm, “and a selfie? Together.” 

He twitches. “I don’t much like pictures.” 

“Just a memory. Promise, I won’t show anyone.” 

He growls and shows his palms, “what... what do you want me to do.” 

“Here, turn,” you direct him, “put your arm around me and get in frame.” 

You flip the camera and extend your arms. He moves stiffly and hovers his arm over your shoulders. He smells like oaky cologne. You smile as he growls at his own reflection in the phone. You lean into him and watch his features calm then snap the photo. 

“So cute,” you exclaim. “That’s my new wallpaper.” You tap on the three dots and quickly replace the pic of you and your girls, “see.” 

“Huh?” He stands straight. 

“Everyone’s going to think I’m so badass. I mean, I’m not, but they’ll think I am,” you chime. “Oh, uh,” the straps tickle your neck as you put your phone away, “Bucky, I’m so dumb. Can you help?” 

You pinch the straps and flick your lashes at him. He exhales again. You stare at the front of his plain black tee. It clings to his muscles and squeezes his thick biceps. He takes the straps and loops one through the metal ring. His fingertips brush your throat and chin. 

He slowly tugs it snug and his hands freeze. He stares at them and his gaze slowly crawls up to your lips. The air turns stolid around you. He winces and puts his hand on the helmet, wiggling it to test it. 

“Good to go,” he drags his hand off and turns his back to you.  

He grabs the other helmet and pulls it on over his hair. He slides on his sunglasses before he straddles the bike in front of you. He grips the handlebars and takes it off the stand, kicking it back as he easily supports the heavy beast of a bike. His strength is felt in the shifting axel. 

“Gotta hang on unless you want road burn,” he says over his shoulder. “Gonna be loud.” 

“I can handle it,” you assure him as you lean in and wrap your arms around his middle.  

You feel his stomach clench. He turns the key then brings his hand back to turn the throttle, making the bike roar. He walks it back and angles it down the street. He gets it rolling then puts his feet up, zipping off through a tunnel of wind. 

You let out a gleeful holler. The rush is unlike anything you felt. Your heart is pumping and your veins are on fire. You hug him tighter and laugh raucously. 

He stops at a sign and plants his boots, “you okay?” He calls over his shoulder. 

“I’m perfect. I’m-- I’m in heaven!” You answer and wiggle in the seat. 

He takes off again. You squeal and cling to him. You watch the smear of the buildings, trees, and pavement. You feel like you’re flying. Not to mention, you’re vibrating. You feel your leggings getting wet. This is more than fun, it’s fucking hot. 

At last, he stops and quiets the beast. You look around the plaza as he kicks down the stand. He waits and signals you off first with the tilt of his head. You get off and he follows. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says. “Boring stuff.” 

You look over at the organic shop sign. You laugh, “are you buying gluten free granola?” 

“Something like that,” he almost smiles. Almost. 

“Hang onto that,” he taps the helmet. 

You unloop the straps and hang it from your elbow, “yes--” you have to stop yourself from saying daddy. You’re not sure if it’s a joke or serious at this point. “Sir.” 

He eyes you then scoffs, “alright, then, doll, let’s go.” 

His cheek ticks and he looks away. He turns his back to you quickly and beckons you with his hands. You follow. 

“Doll,” you say. 

“Sorry--” he begins. 

“I like it. It’s cute! Like a Barbie, right?” 

He sniffs and opens the door of the shop, “sure, something like that.” 

Or a sex doll? You think to yourself. You nearly dance through the door. This is an amazing day. 

He enters behind you. You radiate to the rack of plant-based candies. They are all so colourful. He sidles along to the bin of trail mix. He takes a paper bag and dumps a scoop inside. 

“They have any with M&Ms?” You shuffle up next to him. He grunts. “Kidding.” 

“Good food,” he mutters. “Nice place.” 

“I’ve never been before,” you say. “You’re not vegan? That pie I made had real meat?” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “nah, just... try to appreciate the small things, these days.” 

“Right. Well, it’s a really cool place—oh, cookies!” 

You brush by him and snag up a box of the vanilla glazed shortbread. They look delicious. You turn to him and grin as you show him. 

“Small things, right?” You bounce back toward him. 

He stares at you a moment, “yeah.” He nods and folds over the top of the paper bag. “There’s... there’s a bar around the corner.” 

“Oh, a bar?” You chirp. “How about I buy you a round? For the ride?” 

“Mm, I was just gonna run over and deal with... talk to a friend.” He browses as he speaks. “Thought you could wait with the motorcycle.” 

“Oh,” you deflate, “whatever you like.” 

“Or... you can sit for a drink. Won’t be long,” he shrugs. 

“Bucky, I’m all yours. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He coughs and grabs a loaf of ten grain. 

“One drink,” he grits out. 

👙

You buy your cookies and Bucky his small haul of groceries. He fits it all in his saddle bags as you watch. He comes around and points you around the other side of the plaza. He walks beside you. As you think about how you must look together, you get all fluttery. 

You’re tempted to grab his hand but you don’t want to spoil all your progress. After all, he invited you. And now he’s taking you for a drink. Sort of. 

He holds the door at the bar for you, greeting the bouncer with familiarity. You look around the dim space. It’s just after noon, there’s not too many people there. He points you to a table. 

“What do you drink?” He asks. 

“Do you think they have appletinis?” You ask. He blinks. You laugh at him. “Joking, I’ll have a light beer. Any brand.” 

“Right, doll, coming right up.” 

You sit and watch him go. He talks to the bar tender and points to the table. Then he walks up around the curve of the bar and into the backroom. You narrow your eyes curiously. Huh. 

The bartender pulls a tap and pours the pint. He brings it to you. “Miss.” He retreats as if he’s afraid of you. Before you can even thank him. 

You pull the tall glass close as condensation hazes along the outside. You taste the thin layer of foam. It’s a bit tangy. You peer around listlessly. This isn’t very exciting. 

This isn’t the typical sports bar. There's a pool table and a dartboard but no TVs for the games. There’s leather jackets and skull emblems and a few disarmed guns on wooden plaques. 

There’s a thunk from the back of the bar then the slam of a door. You peer over as Bucky emerges and stops at the bar. Without a word, the bartender pours him a dark glass of liquor. He grabs it and marches over to you. He sits and sighs. 

“Had to hit the restroom,” he says. 

“No worries,” you make yourself drink the beer. Wheaty. 

“You make up your mind?” He asks. 

“Hmm,” you wipe foam from your lip. 

“About the motorcycle. Still want one?” 

“I definitely want one!” You grin. He brushes his fingertips over his knuckles. They’re reddened. Is one of them split? Were they like that before? 

“It’s an investment. Those new ones are... well, if you’re looking for a vintage model, I know some people. I could do any bodywork you need,” he offers. 

“Really? Oh, Bucky, you’re so sweet!” You chime. 

His mouth slants, curving at one corner. He takes a swig of his drink. 

“Not really, doll,” he rests his chin in his hand. “But for you, I’ll try.” 

[sourlemonadez]

Was finally able to read @spadillelicious 's Love, Death and Rollerkates! And my god it is SO DAMN GOOD I had to draw some fanart

Unhinged Sun is so hhgdhshbsjdsn he has such a grip on me jeez, and Moon?? The fact that he's into photography is so incredibly endearing to me for some reason. Also chapter 12 put me into hysterics ngl. Very, very excited for what's to come, I love it and I'm absolutely hooked ^_^

On another note, I finally figured out how to draw the dca's pants, yay me

[rainylana]

“Don’t tell me no.”

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and eddie fuck in an abandoned church.

warnings: prob the dirtiest smut i’ve written in awhile, imo, so enjoy!! warnings include, smut, sex in a church, dom/sub dynamics, sub space, pre-consented to as always, decrophylia, light slapping, dirty talk, it’s very hot in this church lmao, language.

You’re both giggling as you burst into the old church, the sounds of the doors hitting the wall amplifying with an echo. You squeal as you run down the isles, looking back as he chases you. His face squints, his legs beginning to cramp as he puts his hands on his knees.

“Ah, no more.” He waves his hand breathless. “I’m getting too old to be chasing you around, darlin’.”

You laugh breathlessly, sweat rolling down your neck from the summer sun. You look around the room, the church many years abandoned since it’s last service. There’s beautiful stained glass windows, empty pews and discarded Bibles on the floor. A large cross hung on the wall, catching your eye as you looked up.

“This place gives me the creeps.” You shiver, nearly tripling on a bible. “Why’d you wanna bring me here, anyways?”

He shrugged his shoulders, finally able to breath again. “I dunno. Thought it was cool. Wayne always said the place was haunted.”

You looked around and cringed. “Great.”

The room echoed with your voices, the walls chipped with old paint and rust, weeds that were starting to grow through the cracks in the walls. There were leaves on the floor, covering the old carpet that was in desperate need of a good washing.

You felt Eddie’s hand on your waist, his hand sweeping your hair to expose your neck. You smirked when his lips found your skin. “Oh, I get it now. You brought me here to fulfill some fantasy, huh?”

You felt him smile against your skin. “What makes you say that?” He muttered innocently.

“I should have known.” You relaxed back into him, the excitement of the situation making your belly heat up.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, angel.” He moves up to your ear. “I’m just givin’ my sweet girl a kiss, is all.”

You turn to look at him, noses barely brushing over each other’s as you lock eyes. You blink and so does he, eyes asking each other for permission to continue. His lips capture yours in a hot, desperate kiss that says I need you.

Your arms tangle around his neck, his wrapping around your waist. Your lips attack his, kissing him desperately, wanting more. His tongue isn’t enough, swiping over your teeth and licking up your saliva. It’s not enough. You let him back you up against the wall, the bounce of your bodies making dirt fall from the ceiling.

His leg parts your thighs, his own resting against your mound as he makes love to your mouth. “I can feel you.” He husks, hotly. The room, your bodies, it’s all so hot you can barely stand it. “You’re so warm.”

Your pussy flutters for him, the deep throbbing of your clit becoming an uncomfortable ache that needed to be fixed. You grab his face and break apart the kiss. “Touch me.” You beg, hiding your face in his chest.

He’s panting, laying his forehead against your shoulder. His cock is straining his boxers painfully hard, you can feel it against your clothed cunt. “Touch you?” He repeats, turning his nose to your neck. His tongue licks your sweaty, sun burned skin, before he’s pushing you back against the wall. “What do you say?” He’s gripping your chin, softly, yet enough to hold your attention, as if he didn’t already have it.

He looks at you sternly, seductively. Dominantly. Slipping into a role that you knew all too well. It made you feel small, but it made you throb every time it did. You instinctively rub yourself against his jeans. He doesn’t miss the action.

“Please?” You mutter, face flushing in embarrassment, or maybe it’s just the damn heat. “Touch me, please, Ed?” You push your weight down on his thigh, your mound resting perfectly against it like a puzzle piece.

He smirks, grabbing each one of your hands and pining them at the sides of your head. “Doesn’t seem like you need me for that, sweetheart.” His lips go back to yours, plump and pink that fight yours for dominance. He bites your lip, making you whimper into the kiss. “Fuck yourself against me.”

You open your eyes in surprise. “What?” Your voice is shaking for lust. “No, I-”

“Don’t tell me no.” He grips your face so hard your cheeks press together, giving your face a little shake. “Do as I say, or we’ll leave and you’ll get nothing at all.”

You’re whimpering at the harshness, the lust making you light headed and dizzy. You choke out a dry sob, embarrassed, as you rub yourself against his thigh. You look away, but he lightly taps your face.

“Uh-uh.” He disciplines you, giving you another light tap. “Eyes on me. Watch me as you fuck yourself like the desperate whore you are.”

It’s so hot, he panted out the words. It had to at least be 100 degrees in there. Your fingers squeeze at the hands that hold your wrists as you fuck your cunt against his leg. Your clit throbbing at the feeling of denim against the swollen bead. You moan, you can’t help it. You’re so hot and you feel so good, so fucking needy for him. You rock yourself faster, you’ve barely started and you’re already so close to finishing right on his thigh.

You keep eye contact with him, and he slowly inches closer to you to rest his forehead against yours. He helps you out, rubbing his own thigh against your pussy. You cry out, getting messy with your desperate rubs that attempt to get you undone.

“Good girl.” He praises you. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

You nod ferociously. “Yes, sir!” You slip into your submissive roll, sinking back further and further into your brain that makes you go foggy.

He stops you, pushing on your leg before you can cum, separating your cunt from his thigh. “Not yet, honey.” He let’s go of your wrists, hurriedly working to undo his belt buckle. “I wanna fuck that sweet pussy of yours.”

Your face burns bright in excitement, you’re nearly falling to the floor. He grabs your hand and urges you to follow him, bringing you to the closest pew and bends you over it, your hands resting on the old wooden railing of the seat.

“Hold on, baby.” He flips up your dress, pulls down your panties and slowly pushes into you so you can adjust to his size. A desperate moan ripples through you, your fingers gripping at the seat you’re bent over. You’re jaw falls slack as he thrusts all the way into you, that familiar, welcoming burn stretching you open.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie praises after the first thrust, looking up to the ceiling with his eyes closed.

He pulls out and quickly switches the pace, now that you’ve adjusted to him. He fucks you fast and hard, messy and desperate, aching to please you and himself. Your legs shake so badly you fear they might fall off, you’re sobbing, hot, boiling tears falling down your face and onto the floor.

Your clit is throbbing, so you reach between your legs and messily swipe at it to dull the ache. His hands bruise your hips in a menacing grip, his hips snapping against your ass that had the room echoing with sensual, pornographic noises.

“Oh, god, baby.” His hair is damp at the tips from sweating, it’s dripping onto your back. He feels so good, his dick is throbbing and his belly is as tight as a drum. He’s so close to snapping that bubble, but he wants to give you more.

“Do you like it- when daddy, ah shit, fucks you, baby?” He’s getting messier, his voice is shaking.

You’re barely able to speak. “Yes!” You blubber, drool spilling out of your mouth that matches the tears in your eyes, the sweat above your lip that leaves a salty taste on your tongue. Each thrust leaves you hiccuping, sobbing. Your breath hitches when you body twitches. Eddie feels you, giving one last, hard thrust that his him busting inside of you.

You’re both releasing together, your pussy clamping down on his cock that his him spewing out curse words in the abandoned house of god. Your body is shaking so bad you can barely move, the tears haven’t stopped and it’s so damn hot.

He collapses atop of you, his body on yours as he fights for air. You’re slipping from your spot, making his eyes widen briefly before he stands up and catches you. “Woah, baby.” He says in exhaustion, heat exhaustion.

You fall into his chest and allow him to pick you up, your head lulling to the side. “You alright, honey?”

You smile, somehow manage to, your body rippling with the pleasure of his cock, his arousal creating a sticky substance down your leg. You’re not able to say anything, but you give him the goofiest grin you can muster, sticking up your thumb in a thumbs up motion.

He snickers and kisses your head, looking down to realize he’s still naked. “Fuck, babe, I gotta put my clothes back on.”

[lenaluvbot]

morning suprise

say this tweet and immediately thought of tyler

warnings: smut/oral/morning sex/no pull outs/praise kink

the sun has just broken in through the blinds as your newly wed husband tyler’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him.

his cowboy hat on the headrest along with you black bra, sure it wasn’t actual decoration but it looked cute with the room.

“Morning gorgeous..” he hummed the texan accent thick, while kissing your neck, the skin already littered with kisses from the previous nights.

“Hey baby, you just wake up?” Squeezing his hand as a way to show you were also awake

“Been up for a few minutes, just staring at you pretty lady” He smirked, his groin grinding against you, definitely feeling a morning wood you grunted.

“Oh really? See anything you like?” dryly chuckling underneath him.

“See a few things..” He hummed in your ear, pressing open your legs from behind, his hand on the outer part of your thigh, almost pulling ten completely apart “Tyler…it’s so earlyy” softly whining, your hand running over his callused fingers.

“Yeah early bird gets the worm or some shit like that” He smiled at you kissing your back all over

“If i say yes do i get to stay back from those stupid tornado vlogs..?” “Those stupid vlogs are the reason we are in bed together..”

He put his hand on yours and resting it on his buldge

“Your sooo gross” Rolling your eyes “Yeah well let me make your morning better..” Smiling at you as he straddled your waist,taking out his cock and gently pushing it into you.

His pre-cum and sliding in easy as he began to slow thrust into you

“Lord oh lord i missed this kitty…You look so pretty looking at me like that so early in the morning when im fucking you into our bed” He grunted loudly

“Fuck!- Damn i love you..love you so much baby…” He stated going faster, gripping the head board to get deeper in you on this sunny wednesday morning.

Reaching a shared peak he looked down at you while rubbing circles on your clit, pushing it into you, the sound almost hypnotic as you threw your head back.

“There’s my pretty lady, hold on tight i’m gonna get you a baby.” Was the last thing he said before blowing his load into you, trying to push to over the edge one last time.

Panting and grunts could be heard as you suddenly heard tyler say something with two intentions

“So how’s your day gonna be today? Mine is going great sweetheart.” Kissing you one last time before getting up.

[frantic-fiction]

Beg 18+

Pic Credit: astarionposting

Astarion x F!reader

Summary: Astarion asks for more blood, you make him work for it.

Warnings/Tags: Smut MDNI, fingering, begging, slight overstimulation, sub!Astarion, switch!Astarion, Druid!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

"There you are, darling,"

Astarion hovers above you as you sit cross-legged in the grass by your tent, his shadow blanketing you, blocking the sun's warmth. You hum in acknowledgment, but your focus is solely on your book. A delicate finger dangles in front of the vampire, who audibly scoffs but otherwise stays silent and waits, patiently observing. 

You pick at the skin of your lips absentmindedly with your teeth as you flip the page. You can feel his eyes on you, taking every inch of your body in with his wandering gaze. Shifting in the grass, you continue to read, relishing the impatience dripping from Astarion, smirking when each flick of the page elicits a huff of annoyance from the vampire.

Once your chapter finishes, you mark your page and lean back on your hands to look up at the man with a quizzical arch to your brow. "How can I help you, Astarion?" 

His annoyance melts like ice in the sun as a sultry smile stretches his lips. "Can I not simply want to see your enchantingly beautiful face?"

You snort, "You have barely spoken to me since the tiefling's party. So I'd say you want something." Standing, you brush off the dirt on your pants and move to store your book away.

"I have to!" Astarion balks, pressing a hand to his chest in a dramatic display. "Besides, we have been incredibly busy running all over the gods damn wilderness since you and everyone else seem to want to play the hero."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a playful retort poised on your tongue. "I'm terribly sorry that some of us have morals and a conscience," you tease, your gaze meeting him with a mixture of challenge and amusement.

"Oh, I have morals, my sweet," Astarion purrs, leaning into your space, his breath chilly against your skin. "however, mine sway towards the more sinful side."

You suppress the shudder that trembles through your body. Astarion always has a way of reducing you to a mumbling, blushing mess with only a few salacious words. It's like he holds the key to pulling you apart and leaving you consumed by him, and he knows it, too. But you're not giving in that easily. There's something he wants. You can see it in his eyes, and he's not going to get it without working for it.

Putting your hand up, you interrupt his following flirty remark. "Did you want something? Or are you just here to interrupt my free time?"

Astarion looks at you in shock, mouth open to speak, but no words seem to want to flow. His eyebrows furrowed, and a smirk stretched his lips. Leaning on one hip, Astarion flicks out his hand, idly looking at his nails. 

"Yes, actually, I have a list. Coin, sex, blood, revenge," Astarion counts on his fingers, his tone dripping with amusement. "Certainly not in that order, and I could go on, but what I came here for specifically is something that might be better…" Astarion looks around the camp, taking mind of everyone. "Discussed in private."

Having a hunch on where this would lead, you stifle a laugh, a plan forming in your head. "Then lead the way." You motion for him to walk, smiling brightly at the vampire. 

Astarion nods smugly, obviously feeling like his plan was going just as he attended. He escorts the two of you past the others' tents and deep into the woods. Your hunch seems more viable as the brush becomes thicker and the symphony of nature's melody replaces the still air. 

After a few minutes of walking in relative silence, the two of you break into a small clearing. Its grass has spatters of bright patches of wildflowers, and the colors of oranges, pinks, and blues contrast against the expanse of green. There's a small pond on the far side, and cattails and pond reeds sway in the winds. A deer is grazing the water, but sensing Astarion as a predator; it quickly retreats to the woods.

Paying more attention to the scenery, you had yet to notice Astarion stop mid-step and swing on his heel. You stumble slightly into his chest. "I believe this spot will do nicely," he declares smugly as you step back.

Taking a step back, you quickly recover, "And why are we here exactly, Astarion? I was quite enjoying my book."

For a moment, uncertainty flickers across Astarion's features before swiftly being concealed behind a facade of confidence and a devilish smile. Turning away from you, he strides further into the small alcove.

"Are you so eager to escape my company, my dear?" he counters playfully, eyes scanning the clearing. "I thought you would like this little spot. I had no idea how beautiful the woods could be." 

"You're stalling," you accuse.

"Am not!" Astarion's voice echoes against the canopy.

Folding your arms over your chest, you give Astarion a pointed look.

The vampire sighs deeply, shoulders slumping. "Gods, this is embarrassing," Astarion mumbles under his breath so low you barely catch it. He combs a hand through his tousled curls, not bothering to turn back to face you. "Fine, yes, you see… I'm hungry, darling. Starving, actually."

Of course, the prick ignores you for almost a week to ask you for a bite. After what he did, he thinks he can call on you like his personal snack pack. Oh no, he's going to have to do better than that.

"Then hunt." You smirk, "Or did you need me to ensnare something for you?" 

"Excuse me! I am perfectly capable of hunting!" Astarion snaps his head back and storms toward you. "It's these bloody woods; there's barely any fauna in the cursed thing."

His outburst has the surrounding animals scurrying, and before you can open your mouth to utter a mocking retort, Astarion grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against his body. You yelped at the sudden force of his moments, your hand catching yourself on his chest. 

"Don't make me say it," Astarion breathes against your ear, his hands trailing teasing paths down your sides. 

"Astarion," you chuckle, feigning ignorance. "I don't understand what you're implying. If you want something, you'll need to say it."

Astarion nuzzles against your neck with a groan of frustration, his lips brushing against your skin in a maddeningly gentle caress. "Darling, may I have a taste?" He murmurs, the scrape of his fangs against your flesh nearly causing you to relent. "I'm famished, and your blood… Gods, it's intoxicating. I promise to make it just as pleasurable for you."

How easy it would be to say yes. Let him take what he wants and wait for the next time he wants something from you. But you weren't his little chew toy, just waiting for whenever he deems you worthy enough for attention. No, he needs to learn. 

"Beg." You demand, twirling out of his grasp and pushing him away gently.

"What?" Astarion pauses, disbelief written across his face as if he misheard you. 

"Beg." You repeat, your words slipping from your lips mockingly slowly.

"Are you serious?"

You meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, waiting for him to comply. As realization dawns, Astarion's expression shifts to amusement.

"Joking doesn't suit you, dear," he scoffs, his laughter echoing through the clearing. 

Silent and persistent, you hold his gaze, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. His eyes drift to the faint scar beneath your chin, a silent reminder. Wetting his lips, Astarion clears his throat before looking at you, clearly trying to grapple for the upper hand.

"Must we really play this song and dance?" He asks.

"If you want my blood, this is how you'll get it."

You hold firm, with your arms crossed over your chest. Astarion stares at you as if seeing you for the first time, and a mix of emotions storms behind his eyes. His body seems to deflate, coming to terms with the fact that you won't back down. Licking his lips, Astarion swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he murmurs through gritted teeth, his posture betraying his inner turmoil. "Allow me a taste of your exquisite blood. I'm starving and beg for your mercy."

"On your knees," you command softly, relishing the power that surges between you. "And I want a please this time."

Astarion looks at you with wide eyes. "Must I degrade myself further?" The anticipation in his voice betrays his reluctance to give in to you. "You've already gotten what you've wanted."

Biting your lip, you step closer and delicately cup his jaw, your touch gentle but commanding, and bring Astarion's lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I'll let you have your fill of my blood and more if you want. But only if you're a good boy and listen." Astarion breath leaves his lungs in a shuddering gasp, all fight seeping from his body.

"You are a cruel woman." 

With a resigned sigh, Astarion sinks to his knees. His silver curls reflect the golden light filtering through the forest canopy. His back is pin straight, and his neck is arched up to look at you with his deep crimson eyes. You can't help but focus on the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows again.

"I beg, please allow me the privilege to taste your tantalizing blood," he starts, but you zone out the rest of his words, focusing more on Astarion himself.

You focused on how his shirt hugs his chest, the cotton straining in some places while loose in others. You noticed how blue his veins are, just under his pale skin. You see how his pants seemed tight in the front, something stiff straining against the thick fabric. 

Wait. Oh. Now that is interesting. 

You pounce before you can think things through, mind moving more on instinct than anything else. Astarion's plea for you is replaced with a yelp as you push him on his back and straddle his lap.

"Wh-what are you?" he stutters before letting out a pathetic moan he will most certainly deny later. 

You capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Your tongue runs over the seam of his lips, and when Astarion allows you access, you lick into his mouth. Your tongues twirl in a practiced dance as you deepen the kiss. Astarion groans into your mouth. A hand moves up to cup your head, fingers combing through your hair. 

"Astarion," you purr breathlessly, rolling your front against the vampire's growing bulge. You press your body closer against his, practically willing yourself to melt into him. "Did begging for me get you all excited?"

"Excuse you? No! Don't be ridiculous," he tries to deny but fails when another moan rakes through his chest with another turn of your hips. 

"Look at you, all hard and needy." You lick up the column of his throat, stopping to playfully bite at his ear before whispering. "Do you like being my good boy, Astarion?"

"Shit! You're being ridiculous," Astarion pants, his hand tightening on your hips to cease your ministrations. "You're rubbing against me like a desperate virgin. Any man would get aroused."

Humming calmly, you sit back on your haunches and remove your shirt, tossing the garment into the bushes. Astarion's eyes immediately wander your exposed skin, drinking in the sight of your body. You take your bra off and trail your fingers over your nipples. Astarion lets out a pitiful groan.

"That's disappointing," you pout out your lip, trying to conceal a smile. "I was going to reward you for being so good." 

"Darling, I think this is reward enough, so long as we end this with my teeth in your pretty neck."

"That's good to know," you chuckle, trailing a hand down the valley of your breast and over the planes of your stomach, stopping just shy of your waistband. "I'll enjoy this reward for both of us.

Astarion's brows scrunch slightly in confusion before zeroing in on your hand as you teasingly slip under the waistband of your pants and past your folds. Sighing softly, you begin to tease your clit with the pad of your finger, staring down at Astarion, who looks as if he might just have an aneurysm.

He cools his features with a smug smirk, idly trailing his hand up your side. "A show and then dinner? My dear, you're not as good at this teasing as you think, but I admire your effort."

One of Astarion's icy hands works up to your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The other grips your hip and begins to rock you against his stiff erection. You involuntarily gasp at the friction, allowing the vampire a moment of control.

Astarion ruts against you, letting out a grunt when you grind down with equal enthusiasm. Then suddenly, Astarion's hands are ripped from your body and pinned to the ground as you rise further, removing any contact between the two of you.

"What?" Astarion exclaims before looking to the side. Little vines sprout from the ground, binding his hands to the hard earth. "Gods, you wretched thing." 

Clicking your tongue, you grin wickedly down at the trapped man. "Only good boys get to touch."

"Darling, must we continue this?" Astarion groans in frustration, tugging at your vines, annoyed when they don't give. "We both want this. You're the one making things difficult."

"Maybe, but only because I love hearing you beg for me. Now, unless you're going to give me what I want." You resume your ministrations, moaning as you dip a finger into your neglected hole. "Keep quiet,"

"At least remove your trousers!"

"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth of yours, Astarion." 

Astarion fumes from underneath you, but you can see the cracks forming, the dilated pupils, the rapidly falling chest as he pants for breath he doesn't need, and the way he tugs against his bindings even though he knows nothing will give. You know he'll break. He already did once he had a bit more incentive.

Adding another finger, you start to pump in and out of your dripping cunt; an audible squelching noise can be heard with each dip of your hand. You moan, dropping your head back. Circling your puffy clit with your thumb, you rock against your hand, your other one snaking up your body to tease your breast.

"Astarion," you breathe out, smirking when you hear the man's frustrated groan. "Gods, I'm so wet, making a mess, squeezing my fingers so tight."

"You are killing me all over again, sweetheart," Astarion cries; his hips are desperately trying to move against you, but another vine wraps around his stomach, holding him down.

"Just say the word's Star," you say, pinching your nipple and rolling it between your fingers. A whine rips from your throat when you curl your fingers up and hit that spongy spot, which has a familiar burning sensation that starts coiling in your gut. "Fuck, say the words, and it could be you making me feel this good. Won't you be my good boy?" 

"Gods," He bites back another moan, slamming his head in the dirt. 

"I'm so close," you whimper, moving your thumb faster against your clit. "Just imagine it could have been your cock I'm clenching around, not my fingers. Could have been you that's making a mess of me." Looking down, you see Astarion all flustered, mouth agape, and hair a mess of frizzy curls, his whole body practically buzzing with need. It was enough to send you over the edge cumming around your fingers with a choked sob. 

This finally broke the man. "Fine, okay! Please, please let me go!" Astarion pleads, voice ragged and needy. "Just let me touch you. I'll do anything you want, please. Gods, please, please, please!"

Suddenly, the vines vanish, and your lips are again on his. Astarion's pleas muffle against your mouth and quickly morph into a satisfied grunt when he bites his lip. Now that he's finally free, Astarion's quick to roll the two of you and pin you against the cold earth. Nestled between your thighs, Astarion starts mindlessly tearing at his clothes, his mouth trailing sloppy open-mouth kisses down your neck and to your chest. 

"You are an evil woman." Astarion murmurs against the skin between your breasts. Slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, he begins to suck, and you gasp, arching your back into him. 

"Astarion, fuck!" 

A hand curls into his hair, your nails raking against his scalp, causing him to hum against your chest, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You feel his hands move to your pants, tugging them down your hips, dragging your drenched underwear with them. 

A cold finger trails through your warm cunt, and you shiver at the feeling. "I must admit, darling, I quite like it when you take charge, but," His voice rumbles against your skin, and you whine at the feeling of his fangs teasing your swollen nipple. "My patience has grown thin, so if it's okay with you, your good boy will take his reward now." His finger teases your entrance, barely dipping in.

You clench, choking on the gasp that bubbles up your throats. "Yes! Gods, please fuck me!" 

Astarion cups the back of your head and kisses you deeply. Feeling his hard cock swipe through your cunt, your gasp into his mouth, your hand coming up to hold his face. He presses into you, and you pull away from his lips, moaning at the stretch of his cock, filling you to the brim. Astarion peppers feather light kisses over your face and neck as he bottoms out and waits for you to nudge him to continue. 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Astarion pulls out almost entirely before impaling you again and sets a steady pace. A pace has your toes curling and you feeling breathless with each delicious drag of his cock against your walls. You don't think you'll get over the feeling of Astarion inside you, feeling the ridges rub against you in all the perfect ways as if he has the only manual to tear you apart with mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Ugh-Always so tight," he grunts into your neck, "So perfect, just for me."

"Astarion!" You dig your nails into his shoulders and buck against each of his thrusts. "Faster, please!"

Astarion picks up the pace; your collective sounds of pleasure mingle together in the air, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the clearing. Astarion's forehead drops against yours, and both of your noses brush against each other as he breathes in every whimper and moan of ecstasy you give him with each drag of his cock against your walls. Snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies, his nimble fingers swirl around your clit in time with each grind of his hips. 

Another moan rolls off your tongue, and soon, that warmth blossoms once again in the pit of your stomach. "D-don't stop," you plead, hands running up his chest to wrap around his shoulder. "M' close." 

Astarion nuzzles at your neck and inhales your scent, groaning at a particularly tight squeeze of your cunt. Even after all the begging and pleading you put him through, he still silently asks before he takes a bite. The thought warms your heart and is something you'll have to reflect on later. 

"Yes! Please, bite me!" You whimper, clutching the back of his neck and pressing him close. 

The sharp sting of ice pierces your neck, and you cry out against the pain. Astarion pays special attention to your clit, applying pressure and dragging his thumb around the swollen bud, his way of helping you through the initial sting. After a moment, the pain resides in mind-numbing pleasure, and soon, everything becomes too much. 

Astarion consumes you. His hand caressing your body, his mouth lavishing your neck, his cock hitting you perfectly in spots only he seems to know how to reach. It's all too much, and soon tears prick at your eyes, and the heat in your lower stomach bursts, draining lava into your veins. Your nails dig into the flesh of Astarion's shoulders as you scream out his name, body spasming around the pleasure that courses through your body. 

This seems to be enough to push Astarion over the edge with you. Still drinking mouthfuls of your blood, Astarion is rutting into you, grinding your pelvis against the solid earth. His moans hum against your skin, and his thrust becomes sloppy before a rush of heat gushes inside you as Astarion cums.

With a few more gulps of blood and a few more thrusts of his hips, you whimper with overstimulation. Astarion removes his mouth from your body, licking any stray droplets. He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him until your head is lying on his chest. You whine at the loss of fullness, cringing at the feeling of your combined release that begins to drip down your legs. 

"That was…" Astarion trails off, seeming to be at a loss for words. 

"Way better than the tiefling party." You mumble against his chest, smirking at the snort he makes.

"Yes, I would be inclined to agree."

"So you admit it," you tease, trailing your thumb over Astarion's nipple. "You liked begging for me."

"I wouldn't… mind if you took charge again," Astarion says, skirting around your claim.

"Whatever protects your ego." You tilt your head up. "Hey, Star?" 

Astarion hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed, his body seeping into a comfortable stillness. You note something he didn't allow himself to do at the party. Reaching your hand up, you run your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his eyes open.

"Next time, don't ignore me for a week to ask for my blood. I don't want you hungry. I care about you." 

Astarion seems to freeze at your words as if he's never heard a caring word said to him. The thought alone makes you want to hunt this Cazador down and flay him for all of Baldur's gate to see. 

Astarion opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He clears his throat and tries again. "Yes, that will certainly make things easier from now on." 

The two of you lay there in silence, just enjoying the feeling of each other's skin against the other. Soon, when the sky turns to ombres of blues, pinks, and purples, you decide it's time to return to camp. Astarion is quiet for the journey back; an air of contemplation clings to his being. You don't push. Goodnights were said, and you parted ways, feeling like something had changed. Everything may have changed.

Heya, it's been crazy, but I finally got some time and energy to finish up this piece I've been working on for a while. I hope Astarion's not too out of character for as earlier of act one, I just liked the idea. I hope you all enjoyed, let me know what ya thought!

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[norrisluv]

LIST - LANDO NORRIS

summary: Lando and his girlfriend make a list

warnings: smut

Lando and I had a list. It wasn't a normal list like a shopping list. It was a slightly...different list. When we started dating, I wasn't very experienced in sex, so Lando and I made a list of places and things we wanted to do in our most intimate moments.

The beach

It was a very hot evening. Lando wanted to go out for dinner, but I had food ready in the fridge, so we decided to go for a walk along the beach. When we got there, there was no one around. We sat on the sand for a while until he lightly brushed our lips together.

 What was supposed to be a kiss turned into something bigger and before we knew it, Lando was on top of me, kissing my neck.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do this now," Lando asks me, pulling away from my neck a little, while I look around to see that the beach is still empty.

"It's okay, it's just us," I whisper and he kisses my neck again, while running his hands up my legs. I quickly slip my hands under his t-shirt and caress his muscles.

He unbuttons my pants and pulls them down with my panties. He removes his T-shirt and I move my hands to his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a condom. I smile at him as he puts the latex on his cock.

"Were you expecting that?" He smiles at me too and nods, then places the tip against my clitoris.

"I thought we were going to do this in the car, but I like it better here"

I let out a laugh that is soon replaced by a moan from me and a sigh from Lando when he finally enters me.

He starts with slow thrusts, but when I wrap my legs around his waist, he starts to move faster, making me moan louder. He presses our lips together to muffle our moans. I also wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to bring our bodies closer together, which was almost impossible.

"Baby..."

Lando put his head on my neck and began to leave kisses all over my skin

"Come on baby, I'm almost there too"

I arched my back and felt Lando squeeze my waist when we cum at the same time

Our breathing becomes ragged as he lies against my chest. 

"Baby...?" 

He lifts his head and smiles, leaving a kiss on my forehead.

"I know, we have to go before someone comes along" 

We dressed quickly and held hands, heading for the car to drive home.

One less thing on the list

2. Wearing his shirt

After several races since January, summer vacation has finally arrived. Lando and I decided to go with our friends to the French Islands. It was very hot, so we went to the beach almost every day.

 After another day under the sun and being in the water, we head back to the hote. Lando and Max spend some more time in the hotel lobby playing pool, while Pietra and I go to our rooms.

Arriving at my room shared with Lando, I head straight for the bathroom. I take off my clothes and quickly step into the warm water. I take a quick shower and when I get out of the bathroom, I head for my suitcase. I try to find a baggy t-shirt, but when I don't, I go to Lando's bag, grabbing a McLaren t-shirt with Lando's name and number on the back. I take my book and go out onto the balcony, sitting down on the small bench there.

A few minutes later, I hear the door open and suddenly I hear Lando's voice

"Fuck's sake, God damn it"

I take my eyes off my book and look back, seeing Lando standing in the middle of the hotel room

"What? What's wrong? What happened?"

He slowly approaches me, looking at my body

"My shirt... on you. You're so fucking hot"

I let out a laugh and stand up, putting my book down on the table.

"Really? I didn't know you liked seeing me in your t-shirt." I move closer to him, when I get close he pulls me by the waist.

"Fuck I'm going to fuck you like this" He pushes me to the wall and attacks my neck.

I let out several moans and close my eyes, knowing that his lips would leave a mark for tomorrow. He moves his hands down to my thighs and pulls me up, making me jump and wrap my legs around his waist.

I press our lips together and he brings one of his hands between my legs. He pulls my shorts and panties aside and slips a finger inside me. I lean my head against the wall and move my waist slightly against his finger.

He adds another finger and I let out more moans. I wrap my arms around Lando's neck to hold myself up. Lando takes advantage and removes his fingers from me and pulls his cock out of his pants. He starts spreading pre-cum all over his erection.

In one swift movement he puts me down again and slaps my ass. 

"Turn to the wall and wait"

I turn with my back to the wall and lean my forehead against it. I hear Lando opening something and then coming closer. I look over and see him putting the condom on

"I'm going to start taking the pill," I whisper as he gets closer, pressing the tip of his cock into my clitoris.

"I think that's a good idea," Lando smiles and soon he's inside me. I let out a loud sigh and push my ass up, resting my hands on the wall

"Shit, my name looks so good on your back" I continue to moan and sigh, along with Lando.

I feel his hands go up my back and Lando grabs my hair, then pulls lightly. He brings his mouth close to my neck and begins to leave kisses and marks all over my neck and back of my neck, while he increases his thrusts

I bite my lip as I feel my orgasm hit and wash over my body. Lando lets out an even louder moan and with one last thrust he buries himself in me, cumming hard. 

He pulls out of me and turns me towards him. We go to bed and he lays me down, then walks to the bathroom and takes a damp towel and runs it over my hot body.

He lies down next to me and I rest my head on his chest, feeling his heart beat faster as I get closer

3. Dressing room

After a horrible free practice, where Lando ran into the barriers, he passes everyone in the pit box, completely angry. I follow him into his room and knock on the door.

"Baby, it's me. Can I come in?"

I hear some grumbling and something fall to the floor. 

"Sure"

I slowly open the door and see his helmet on the floor next to the small bed he had in his room. I see him unzip his racing suit and sit down on the bed.

"I just screw up," Lando whispers with his head between his hands. I walk over and sit down next to him. I take his hands away from his face and smile slightly

"No, you don't. They said it was the car's problem, not yours. You couldn't have done anything." I caressed his hand as he looked down at the ground.

"If I hadn't braked so much on lap 16..." I touch his face with my hand and nod.

"No. You can't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault. And it was only practice. The engineers will see what happened and improve the car so you're ready for qualifying and the race."

He turns his face to me and smiles slightly

"Thank you, love. That made me feel a little better" He whispers and I move closer, leaning our foreheads together

"I know how to make you even better"

I bring our lips together and place my hands on Lando's chest, slowly pushing him to lie down on the small bed. I pull down his suit and the rest of his clothes, watching his cock bounce against his abdomen. When I get up to get the condoms from his backpack, Lando lifts his body and looks at me.

"Take your clothes off too. I like to see your breasts swaying as you ride me."

I feel my cheeks redden a little, but I nod. I hand Lando the condom and start to take off all my clothes. When I'm naked, I see Lando smiling mischievously at me. I walk over to him and sit on his lap.

"We can scratch the idea of having sex in your dressing room too," I whisper and raise my waist, then sit down on Lando.

"Yes, babygirl" he mumbles against my lips and I continue to sit on Lando, making my breasts bounce against his chest.

He holds one of my breasts and kisses down to the other. I let out more moans and grab Lando's hair, pulling on it. He switches breasts, giving the same attention to the other and I let out louder moans and sighs.

 With a few more sits, I feel the knot in my stomach explode. Lando holds my waist and raises his head, looking at me. He gives a few sloppy thrusts and cums inside the condom.

I rest my head on Lando's shoulder, taking a deep breath. A few minutes later, we hear a noise at the door.

"Lando, we're waiting for you for the interviews." Oscar's voice echoes in Lando's room and I let out a low laugh.

"Yes, I'll be right there. One moment"

I lie down on the bed and stare at Lando as he gets dressed. He looks at me and before he leaves, he leaves a kiss on my forehead.

"Stay here until I get back. I won't be long"

One less thing on the list.

[apartmentsmoke]

"It's okay if it grows a little," Buck called.

Tommy flashed him a grin and hollered back, "That's what he said." Buck's lips opened, ready to retort that he likes it best when things grow a lot, but the sound of his mortal enemy made the words die on his tongue. Ever since they'd gotten back together, since Tommy had cautiously extended the invitation to his place more often and Buck had grabbed it with both hands, Buck had learned a few more things about his boyfriend. Namely, that he would pit Tommy against any suburban father in a World's Best Lawn competition. He was thinking about sending out fliers and charging for admission. Tommy loved his lawn. Buck had endured several lectures on what led to his choice to plant bahia grass, namely its drought-resistant qualities and ability to thrive in poor soil conditions. Every second Tuesday morning, like clockwork, he took out his lawn equipment and began a multi-hour routine that would have made his drill sergeant proud. The lawn was boring, and if Buck heard another word about humidity conditions and what that meant for the grass, he'd poke out his own eardrums. But it did have one notable benefit, one Buck could enjoy with his other senses. Tommy liked to do all his lawn work shirtless.

Buck's eyes followed a bead of sweat running down Tommy's arm, highlighting the sun-warmed skin. Damn. He'd already run off Mrs. Troutman from three doors down once this month, and he was gearing up to it again. Though she'd made some killer snickerdoodles at the recent neighborhood block party, the first one Buck had been to. Maybe he'd trade her some Tommy ogling for the recipe. He followed the drop all the way down to Tommy's fingers, curled around the handle of the power edger. Wished they were curled around his cock, but not even the idea of sweet, unhurried morning sex could keep Tommy from his lawn. Maybe after. Buck's eyes dropped to the flex of Tommy's ass in his pants, how each muscle expanded and contracted as Tommy pushed the mower along. If he'd had his way, he'd be between them, tongue pushed up against muscle, tasting each movement. And then there was the small of Tommy's back, the dimples there made for Buck to press his thumbs into. When he'd woken, he'd seen the faint impression left by the last bruises he'd made there. Couldn't forgot Tommy's spine, either, each knob of it. The ones he held tension in, the ones he liked to hinge when Buck told him to present himself. They all offered opportunity. For Tommy to contort himself just so, for Buck to mouth at or run his cock down before he reached the cleft of Tommy's ass. Buck glanced around for neighbors and adjusted himself in his shorts.

When he looked back up, it was to the sight of Tommy's front, his chest on full display. The sun brought out the pink in his nipples, Buck thought, and he wanted to suck the color right out of Tommy's skin. As Tommy walked his way, going over his work, Buck's gaze trailed the length of hair that ran down Tommy's stomach, watched as Tommy's movements changed how it was presented to him. Each minute motion made Buck's fingers twitch. He was desperate to run them down that path, claim the treasure it advertised.

Tommy's approach drawing closer, Buck began to make out his individual freckles, the ones he'd made into constellations with his tongue. That damn edger, Buck thought wildly, it was the one keeping him from Tommy - aptly named machine - "Join me in the shower after I put this up?" Tommy called, holding the edger on his shoulders like a mountain man held an axe. Buck ached to lick between his pecs, the valley shiny with exertion. "Be right there," he said, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting up in his eagerness.