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bratbby333 · 11 months ago

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satosugu & their favorite lady ♡ poly head cannons

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ bc who doesn't love when their two boyfriends are also bf + bf?

nsfw mdni; fem!reader, 3sum, anäl, dbl. penētration, oral, yaoi, use of pet names. banner fan art from pinterest

poor suguru, having to work overtime to keep the two of you in check—your unyielding energy bounces off of satoru's childlike enthusiasm, creating quite an unhinged environment. and of course geto switches into dad-mode when it comes to y'all, but he wouldn't have it any other way...not willing to give up what he has, loving how silly his lovers are.

satoru’s definitely the physical touch lover while suguru handles words of affirmation: they take turns showering you in praise in the form of soft touches and gentle kisses while they removing your clothes, two sets of hands running up and down your soft skin.

this dynamic also manifests in public, with satoru being your go-to for steamy dancing and drunken make-out sessions in the middle of the club, while suguru sits observantly at a table off to the side.

when he finally feels that it’s time to go, he’ll join the two of you on the dance floor, his chest pressed flush with your back as you continue to lock lips with satoru. you grind against him, assuming he's finally joining in on all the fun. but his hands pull at your hips before running up your body and cupping the underside of your jaw, quite literally having to peel your mouth away from satoru's. "hey...wha- i wasn't done," you grumble. suguru only chuckles in response. "let's get outta here, you two..." he mumbles. satoru attempts to reconnect his lips with yours before a stern "satoru," rumbles from suguru's chest. your blue-eyed lover pouts, of course, before reluctantly agreeing.

suguru loves hitting it from the back while you suck satoru off, the sloppy sounds of both your holes filling the heady air the room as the three of you chase your releases

and of course, satoru would get creative and suggest a challenge, a little competition to see who finishes first, just for funsies; "bet i'd last the longest". he'd be so fucking smug about it, too. and nine times out of ten, you and suguru would create an alliance and work together to literally break satoru; not only does he finish first but he cums over, and over, and over again. you and sugu take turns bringing him to his breaking point, and after his third orgasm, he's begging to switch so he can get one of you off instead. but you just can't stop. and why would you? he just looks so pretty as his hips buck off the bed, sweat glistening on his skin with his flustered cheeks and swollen lips, while his body trembles with every gasping breath. you swear he does this shit on purpose, plotting for this outcome because he's been feeling super needy lately.

they just love pleasing their precious girl

you're straddling suguru, your forearms resting against his chest as your nails dig into his skin. satoru is pounding into you from behind, his hands anchored on your hips. he tucks his chin into his clavicle to watch as your gushing cunt sucks him in so greedily. suguru pulls your head down, your cheek resting against his shoulder as his fingers reach under you to play with your clit, sultry words of praise leaving his lips and going straight to your listening ears, "feels good, doesn't it baby? uh uh, don't move. keep takin' him...y'doin so good." you whimper as toru’s impressive length reaches unimaginable depths inside you, the sweet squelches of your needy pussy spurring him on as he drives into you even harder. sugu’s fingers keep working at your throbbing clit while you bite and suck on his neck, interrupted by the symphony of soft ahh’s and ooo’s falling from your swollen lips. a few more rough thrusts and rapid circles against your clit and you’re falling apart on satoru’s cock, spraying all over the their thighs. you gasp and whine when you feel satoru pull out, only for suguru to lift you up and quickly take his place, sheathing himself in your pulsing walls. “you ready, baby?” you glance over you shoulder, watching as satoru sucks his fingers into his mouth, a cheeky smirk on his face, your cock drunk brain too dizzy to respond. you nod, groaning at the feeling of his long, slender digits playing with your ass, dipping in to the second knuckle. satoru works to stretch you out in preparation for you to take them both. your face contorts at the dull ache. "look at me...focus on me, princess," suguru rasps, redirecting your attention to him as he slowly pumps in and out of your gummy walls. your nails scratch down his chest as you rest your forehead against his, breathing deeply in an attempt to relax your body for the inevitable stretch. you already feel so full, your pussy absolutely drenched, your arousal dribbling out around sugu’s girth, but you grow even wetter in anticipation for your two boyfriends to take you at the same time

and if you thought it would be a peaceful transition into sleep after y'all finish fucking, you would be sorely mistaken...the three of you constantly fight for the middle spot in the bed. correction, you and satoru are the ones bickering. as the two of you argue, suguru finds his place and waits for y'all to follow suit, and more often than not, it's suguru in the middle, laying on his back, as you and satoru tuck yourselves under each of his arms and curling into his side, legs thrown over his waist.

it's a very balanced relationship. the three of y'all have your designated nights to cook dinner, your assigned spots on the couch (though you occasionally fight over what to watch), a copasetic routine for showering, going to work, running errands together. and when one of y'all is out of town for work, the two left over keep each other company. it's perfect, a home full of love and laughter.

y'all loooove having threesomes, but sometimes it's too much logistically. and that's totally fine...nothing wrong with some one on one action, whether it be you and toru or sugu and you or the two men having their fun alone.

you arrive home, expecting to be entrapped in a double bearhug by your two boyfriends, only to hear moans and grunts echoing down the hallway. you laugh to yourself as you make your way upstairs. opening the bedroom door, you're greeted by a smiling suguru being topped off by his blond counterpart. "hey baby, how was work?" he asks casually, not even acknowledging the fact that he's actively getting head. you smile softly, walking to the edge of the bed and placing a gentle peck on suguru's waiting lips. "mmm, it was a pretty rough shift...i'm gonna go take a long, hot shower," you reply, exhaustion evident in your voice. satoru sits up, continuing to jerk suguru off. with his free hand, he wipes the spit from his chin, grinning ear to ear as you lean in to kiss him, too. "you sure you don't wanna join us?" "not right now, toru, but i might when i get out," you smile as you walk to the dresser, grabbing a change of clothes before heading toward the master bathroom. you turn back around to face the two of them, giggling at the disappointed looks on their faces. when the door closes, the wet sounds and breathy moans fill the bedroom once more. but of course, not even five minutes into your peaceful shower, your back is pressed up against the tile wall as satoru's tongue laps at your throbbing clit. "this is the best way to decompress, baby," he says before his fingers dip into your core and his lips reattach to your sensitive bud. "f-fuck, toru...feels s'good..." as you surrender to the bliss, you hear the bathroom door open and close. seems like suguru was feeling left out. so much for your alone time, huh?

loneliness is no longer apart of the equation for you. after years of failed relationships and agonizing heartbreaks, you have finally found peace, your yin and yang. you have your boys, and they have you.

author notes: stsg has had me in a fuckin chokehold recently so i had to get this outta my head. i just rly rly want two boyfriends so so bad and i want my two boyfriends to also be boyfriends. ugh. is that too much to ask? ♡

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odettesoddities · 1 month ago

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PIRATE!SEVIKA HEADCANONS

NSFW + SFW

SFW

~ pirate sevika who has a map of the world on her back that she gets updated every so often so she can keep track of the places she's been, the ports that are safe for her crew and where she's hidden her treasure

~ pirate sevika who insists you sit on her lap every time the crew is celebrating. sometimes when they're playing card games onboard or in a tavern somewhere she'll keep you there, claiming you're her good luck charm

~ pirate sevika who keeps twin flintlocks holstered around her hips and a dagger strapped to her thigh at all times- not that she uses them. no, her favourite weapon is her hands

~ pirate sevika who has countless scars adorning her body from past fights. she has one on her jaw, one over her ribcage, one on her lip and an insane amount on her hands and arms. she never tells the stories behind them, though

~ pirate sevika who would burn an entire fleet of ships for you if you asked her to

~ pirate sevika who steals art, fine silks, expensive spices and books from the places she raids. she always sells half and keeps the other half. nobody on the crew knows why, but there's no real reason behind it other than that she's a hoarder

~ pirate sevika who's SUPER sensitive to the cold so when the ship sails through the more northern seas she clings to you every night beneath layers and layers of stolen exotic animal pelts

~ pirate sevika who has a soft spot for stray animals- so much so that you're sure the ship could be considered a travelling zoo

~ pirate sevika who has a designated chair she doesn't let anyone sit in- except you, but only if you've been behaving recently

~ pirate sevika who has a tattoo of the kraken on her one intact arm that wraps around her entire bicep and blinks if she flexes her muscles

NSFW

~ pirate sevika who makes you ride her thigh, smirking as you grab onto her shoulders to balance yourself against the rocking of the ship. she'll taunt you as she watches your hips stutter, loving how exhausted you look

~ pirate sevika who is insatiable- she'll take you once before going to battle, once after, and again at sunrise. you're half-asleep, spent, and tangled in her sheets and she's already kissing her way down your stomach with a wicked smirk "just one more, sweetheart. you can give me that much, can't you?"

~ pirate sevika who fucks like she's claiming her territory. she'll push you up against walls, tables, even, on one occasion, the ship's wheel, but only ever under the cover of darkness

~ pirate sevika who worships the taste of your salt-sticky skin beneath her mouth. she'll drag her tongue tantalisingly slow down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, licking away the sea spray before biting down on you

~ pirate sevika who sometimes drags the flat edge of her dagger along your skin just to see the way you shiver. she'd never hurt you (unless you asked her to) but she loves the way your breath catches and the way your body tenses at the feeling of the cool steel on your skin "you trust me, don't you?"

~ pirate sevika who will hold your throat lightly in her metal throat, not to choke you, but just to feel the way your pulse thrums against the copper of her artificial palm

~ pirate sevika who fucks you on top of the map table, knocking over gold coins and other paraphernalia as she goes

~ pirate sevika who loves to pull your hair, but only so she can see the way your back arches, your throat bared and your lips parted in a silent plea

~ pirate sevika who has a thing for fucking you when she's half dressed, her shirt unbuttoned so you can only just see the top of her cleavage, her boots still on, and her belt hanging open around her hips as she shoves you onto her desk "i don't have the fucking time to strip. you'll have to just take what i give you, yeah?"

#wlw #arcane #sapphic #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #i love you sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika smut #sevika fanfic #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika x female reader #sevika x fem!reader #pirate sevika

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alliswyattonthewesternfront · 10 months ago

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when it comes to a scents with a single note (or whatever you perfume stans call it) Demeter can't be beat. perfumes like "jelly donut" or "lightning strike" or whatever are kinda hit or miss, but the simple stuff like petrichor, dirt, cloves, molasses, fresh coffee all go crazy. i'm wearing dirt and peteichor right now, i smell like a flower bed after the rain and it rules.

I've never wished a company well before because that's stupid but I hope Demeter Fragrance lasts. I can't think of anywhere else that makes crayon-scented cologne. Dandelion-scented cologne. Dirt-scented cologne. Actually petrichor-scented cologne. These guys are doing what literally nobody else will. If they ever go out of business I'll be so sad.

#they don't last super long on the skin for me as a spray but the roll ons are pretty good #and also no perfume lasts on my skin me and my oils are built different #but they last a long time on clothing and such for me personally so #anyway i love these crazy bitches

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distantdarlings · 1 month ago

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WORSHIP // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After Theodore Nott catches you drawing him in the middle of class, he feels he deserves to see your art up close and personal.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering (f!receiving), slight dubcon? (Reader definitely wants it, it’s just not super obvious at first), soft!Dom Theo, sub!reader, Theo’s a bit pushy, fem!reader, slight nipple play, teasing, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

I Feel It Coming - The Weeknd, Daft Punk

- - -

He was a god. Or as close to one as a human could possibly come to looking like one.

You had found yourself worshipping him daily, just not in the most mundane way. Your form of worship required a quill and parchment, in which you traced the curves of his cheeks and the strong bridge of his nose. Only, it wasn’t with your fingers or lips. It was with the quill and parchment.

You’d spent hours surveying him in classes, between them, at lunch… It was one of the only things that got you through each day, expecting to see his carved features.

Your knee would bob up and down, your fingers would tremble, and your teeth would punch holes into the metal grip of your quill. It was pathetic, really. But, you couldn’t help it.

The days he didn’t show up to class felt like hell. It felt like you were falling through the deepest riff of boredom you’d ever experienced.

Now, as you waited for him to arrive, you settled your things out on the desk before you just as you always did. You had a routine that you clung to that was reserved only for Theodore Nott.

A few breaths later, Theo was walking through the door with his friends trailing behind him.

His hair was perfectly tousled just as it always was; his leather, sharply monogrammed schoolbag was thrown lazily over his shoulder; his uniform sweater was tossed over his arm, whilst his white button-up was only partially fastened, exposing a bit of a lean chest. Beauty marks kissed the skin of his neck, traveling gently upward and onto his face. He was truly a specimen.

You exhaled shakily, inconspicuously preparing yourself to begin sketching. He glanced around the room, salt-spray eyes trailing over every face in the class until coming to rest on you.

As he came to look at you, you did a double take, reclaiming eye contact with him just as soon as you’d broken it. A second or two passed of staring that could have been considered rude and pure panic flowing through your body before he glanced away again.

You blinked a bit, seemingly snapping out of some powerful stupor that only clouded your brain whenever he was around. How stupid.

Despite the intensity of your awkwardness, Theo settled in at his desk as if you hadn’t just gawked at him only moments before.

And as he settled in, you did as well.

The professor entered the classroom from the rear entrance, announcing where the class would be picking up from the day before.

Sounds of rustling papers and thudding book covers echoed about the stone walls, but you only focused on Theo.

Your fingers gripped the quill they’d become so accustomed to as you began to sketch.

Gentle lines. Soft strokes of ink that barely held any space on the paper, but would eventually bear more weight. Your wrist flicked delicately in order to master the movements intended to convey perfection. At least, the way you interpreted it.

There were a few times when Theo looked up and managed to catch your eyes but, like earlier, it seemed to be a passing glance.

Disappointment would flood your gut every time he refocused on something else. Though he didn’t know you, you knew him, and naivety fueled fantasies that one day he’d truly see you and want you.

Your hand clenched tighter around your quill, annoyed by your situation. You made one, strong line and Theo’s nose appeared on your parchment. It was an exact copy. You didn’t need to practice anymore. You were able to replicate him perfectly because you drew him nearly every day and studied him on the days you didn’t. All things considered, you likely knew Theo’s face better than your own.

“I asked if you were still with us?” You heard the words faintly as if you were underwater. Then someone cleared their throat. Your eyes remained on your parchment. The same person cleared their throat again, in a much more exaggerated way.

You glanced up, catching the professor staring directly at you. A quick survey of the room told you that every student had their eyes pinned on you as well—including Theo.

Subconsciously, you slid your books over your parchment and nodded. A deep flush poured into your cheeks.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “Just doodling.”

“Well…just as long as you’re doodling and listening, okay?”

You responded with a small, forced smile. Though you didn’t dare look back up, you could tell Theo was still gazing in your direction. You couldn’t keep the nerves from picking up and manifesting themselves in all physical ways. Your left set of fingernails picked at the dead skin around their edges, your knee bounced again, and your right hand-picked at the dried skin on your bottom lip.

Only a few more moments passed until the professor called the end of class. You gathered your books and parchment up in one fell swoop and shoved them all into your bag. Embarrassment still shone on your face like a beacon of light as you made your way toward the exit.

***

You made your way through the halls of the castle you'd come to adore, trying your best to push all of the shame from your mind. Every time you thought of what happened, another round of hot blood would fill your cheeks. You knew you were red as a tomato but there was nothing you could do about it. You just hoped your hair covered your face enough for no one to notice.

By the time you reached the Slytherin common room, your hands were burning with how tightly you'd been clutching your bag. The leather had bit roughly into your soft palms, causing indentations along the flesh. It looked as if you had sutures wound through your hands. Amusedly, you traced your thumb down them—

“You’re in my History of Magic class, right?”

You jumped and spun around, your bag swinging and bumping against your back.

Now, as if all of your fantasies had come to fruition, you were standing right before Theodore Nott.

Fuck, had he always been this tall? The lean boy towered over you, so much so that he was tilting his face down to look at you. Your head barely cleared the base of his throat. You were enthralled. Your lips hung open stupidly.

“Er, yes, I am,” you chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I, uh—”

“You're all good,” he chuckled, shrugging slightly. “I was just curious what you'd been sketching in class.”

Suddenly, you were regretting all of the times you'd been cursing your body for filling your cheeks with red, hot blush just moments ago. You honestly wished for that sensation to return as your entire face drained of all blood and turned pale white.

“You—er, I was…,” you trailed off stupidly, begging your brain to come up with some kind of quick excuse. “Just, like, little sketches of—” a thought appeared in your head— “plants. For my Herbology class.”

You leaned down to the armchair your bag lay against and popped the buckle open. With shaking hands, you selected the pieces of parchment you'd been working on the day before and presented them to him.

He accepted them with gentle, yet strong hands. His eyebrows raised as he scanned the piece. “Wow, this is great.”

You could've died on the spot.

“Thank you,” you laughed breathlessly, awkwardly clasping your hands together before you.

“Really, this is some of the best artwork I've ever seen,” he smiled, handing it back to you.

You took the pieces of parchment back with a blissful smile and turned back to your bag.

“But I know it's not what you were working on today,” he said.

Your fingers paused their work in shoving the artwork back into your bag. You glanced over your shoulder.

“I'm sorry?” you asked, shocked at his bluntness.

“I know that's not what you were working on today because I saw you working on that piece yesterday at lunch. Today, you were working on something smaller.”

You felt as if you couldn't breathe. An awkward chuckle breezed past your lips.

“Can I see what you were working on today? When the professor called on you? When you covered it up with your books?” His eyes never left yours. They were demanding and soft all at the same time.

“Oh, that was…that wasn't anything special. It was just some lines and scribbles—”

“Were you drawing me?” he asked.

“Er, no! It was—”

“Please don't lie to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice suddenly an octave lower. Sweetheart? Merlin, what the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

“I don't…”

“You were drawing a picture of me in class today, just like you have been every single day for the entire semester,” he said. “And I want to see them. All of them.”

“Why?” you whimpered, the useless word being the only thing your voice could force out.

“Because when someone watches me so intently every day, I want to know why. If you're drawing me, I feel I'm entitled to see that which I'm being a muse for.”

He had a point. Fuck.

“Okay, sweetheart, you’re gonna take me to your dorm and show me these drawings, alright?” he asked, his voice so painfully gentle.

His hand reached out and he selected a small strand of hair that slipped from behind your ear. He tugged on it gently, massaging it between his thumb and forefinger, memorizing the texture of it.

Your breath shuddered as he looked back at you and maintained searing eye contact as he tucked the stray hairs back behind your ear.

“What are you waiting for?” he murmured.

“What?”

“I asked what you were waiting for. I asked you to do something for me,” he said, seeming almost bored with the conversation. “Walk.”

You nodded slowly, immediately obeying his demands. In your mind, your first interaction with Theo would not have involved your drawings or the boy before you taking over the entire thing.

Theo watched as you turned away from him, eyes facing the staircase to the girls’ dormitory. Your breath pulsed in deep motions.

“Er, what about—?”

“I’ll get your bag,” he interrupted. “I’ve asked you to walk.” His voice was soft but stern.

You sighed shakily, willing yourself to take the first step forward. The fire crackled in the corner and covered the slight sounds his shoes made behind you. He moved silently, like a whisper in the evening. Like a shadow. A chill erupted across your arms.

Your feet carried you up the staircase, your mind barely forcing your body to move. If you stopped for even a second, you were sure you’d fall back right into the boy prowling behind you.

“Theodore, do you think—”

“Call me Theo,” he interrupted, placing a gentle hand at the small of your back as the both of you reached the staircase landing. A small gasp escaped your lips at the contact.

He stopped beside you and looked down at you. You gaped up at him stupidly, enamored and waiting for further instructions. You couldn't be sure why on earth you were listening so intently. Perhaps…?

“Theo,” you corrected. “Am I under the influence of the Imperius Curse?”

He smiled just a bit as if your accusations were amusing, though they weren't in the slightest. “Why don't you tell me? Try and walk down those stairs and see what happens. I think you'll find that I'm not controlling you at all.”

You looked behind you and weighed your options. Of course, you'd never been under the Imperius Curse before so you weren't exactly sure what it’d feel like. Would you have even been able to question him if you had been?

The fact that you were able to weigh your options right now alluded that you weren’t under any influences, but you couldn’t deny that you would have assumed your resistance toward him would have been a bit stronger. Obviously not.

You turned back to face him. His eyes hadn’t seemed to have left you at all. You swallowed thickly—desperate for him to either drop this whole thing or give you another instruction because the eye contact was driving you crazy.

“I won't ask again,” he spoke. A pause filled the air, his mouth forming a small frown. “Take me to your dorm and show me those drawings.” So gentle.

You nodded and walked past him. Once again, his footfalls were silent as he fell into step behind you. The feeling of not being able to sense him was eerie. Simultaneously, the knowledge that he was there was riveting. It felt as if you were being chased by some ancient creature. Like your body was in survival mode and trying to flee. Yet, seemingly involuntarily, tingles erupted in your abdomen each time he whispered a direction.

You stopped in front of your dormitory door. When you didn’t move after a few seconds, he reached past your frozen body and turned the handle.

The door creaked open, revealing a mostly dark room, save the enchanted stove in the center of the floor which emanated small waves of cozy heat.

Again, he placed his hand against your back, urging you forward. As you crossed the threshold of the room, you came to a realization—one that seemed to make the tingling in your abdomen ten times stronger.

It was just you and Theo in this room. That could’ve meant nothing but just the way he spoke had chills running down your arms. Surely, he meant to speak to you in that way. You knew it wasn’t just the way he sounded because you’d heard him plenty of times in class. Today, his voice was softer and lower and demanding. It was a far cry from his typical light, almost bored words. Today, he sounded purposeful.

Surely, it meant something. It had to. He shut the door.

“Where are they, darling?” he asked. Again with the pet names… Your breath caught in your throat.

“Er, they’re over here,” you whispered, leading him toward the leatherbound art portfolio crammed between your bed and bedside table.

You fell into a squat, sliding your collection of pieces out from their hiding spot and displaying them on the bed.

One by one, hundreds of sketches of the boy looming behind you slid across the satin duvet. His drawn eyes pierced through you, threatening to reveal every private thought you'd had since you'd begun creating these portraits.

Theo’s breath seemed to halt just as yours had moments ago. He leaned around you and pressed his fingers against the thick parchment. He traced the outlines of his own face and body, careful to avoid touching the medium itself, so as not to smudge anything. Your heart swelled as he looked at them.

Both panic and excitement vibrated in your body with each touch he placed to your works. No one had ever seen these before, especially not Theo.

“Why do you draw me?” he asked, eyes not leaving the parchment.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes while you debated your answer. There were a thousand reasons why you drew him—desire unfortunately being one of the main ones, but inspiration being another. You weren't sure if you could answer straightly.

“Er…” You racked your brain for a response.

His eyes turned back to you. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry. I don't know.”

“Do you want me?” he asked, eyes never leaving yours. You nearly choked on your spit.

“What—er… what exactly do you mean? Do I want you to what?” you sputtered awkwardly.

“You know what I meant,” he said. Just like earlier, his hand reached out to select a stray piece of hair that hung next to your cheek. His fingers tugged gently on it as he seemed to inspect it. Only, this time, he didn't push it back behind your ear.

Slowly, he allows the curl of hair to settle against his palm, situated up against his thumb. The rest of his fingers press gently against your head just behind your ear, his pinky easing itself up and down the curvature of your skull in a soothing manner.

Your hands are shaking; you can't stop them. It’s so impossibly difficult to maintain eye contact with him, knowing that his steel blue irises are going to be burning their typical holes directly through your cheeks.

Despite his lidded, easy gaze, your heart rate skyrocketed every time he looked at you.

When you did nothing, his other hand came up to the opposite side of your head to mirror the movements of the first. Your lips parted as a blush blossomed within your stomach.

“Do you want me?” he repeated, all but whispering.

It felt like hours passed before you were finally able to will your lips to form words, though—in reality—it was only a few seconds.

“Yes,” you finally said, nodding your head desperately.

Theo wasted no time pressing his lips directly to yours. Your eyes widened in shock for only a few seconds before they slipped shut, and the kiss deepened.

Theo tasted just as you would always have imagined. Echoes of pine, rain, and even a bit of lavender billowed against your cheeks with each breath he took.

His hands held your head right where he wanted it, allowing him to maintain full control of the contact.

The uselessness of your body was apparent. In an attempt to combat that, you willed your hands to rest lightly on his chest. The warmth beneath your fingertips was reminiscent of dreams you'd had of him. Dreams where his lips were on yours and your hands were pressed to his skin, and the similarities between them and current reality were not lost on you.

His hands dropped from your face to your hips. He pulled you even closer to his body, his lips devouring yours, his scent all-consuming. Your back arched against him, deliciously molding into him like a piece of the earth. A gasp erupted between your lips.

“Draw me,” Theo sighed, pulling away from you. You stared at him, breath coming out in hard pants.

“What?” you gasped.

“Draw me right now,” he demanded. One hand still held you against him with the opposite reaching up to touch your hair once more. “I want you to draw me right now and let me watch the process.”

You weighed your options, eyes flicking away from his and then meeting them again. This pattern repeated itself a few times before you finally took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down for the first time since this whole interaction started.

You weren't going to allow him to have this much control over you.

With shaking hands, you pulled away from him and turned to select one of the sketchbooks and charcoal pencils off of your desk.

He settled himself onto your bed, straightbacked and staring through your soul. You swallowed thickly as you selected the chair against your desk and willed yourself to calm down.

Drawing Theo had become a daily thing for you so—besides the obvious—there was no reason for you to be so nervous. The two of you accidentally made eye contact constantly throughout class, so why was this different? At least, that's what you tried to convince yourself of.

This was different because you were so close to him that you could see every breath, every shudder, every blink, every beat of his heart… you were now privy to every detail your art had been lacking in the past.

Everything that was missing was now able to be added. It was incredible. You could hardly contain your excitement.

But, after building yourself up and convincing your fingers that the shakes were not necessary, Theo stood from his spot on the bed as soon as your pencil touched paper.

“Er,” you started. “Theo, models have to stay put.”

He walked around behind you, staring at your paper. His hands rested on your shoulders.

“I know you don’t need to see me to draw me,” he murmured. His lips caressed over the curvature of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your flesh.

“I want you to draw me and…,” he stopped to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bit back a moan. “…if you stop, I will make you regret it. Does that sound okay?”

His hands slid down your arms, warm and gentle. You nodded slowly—heat beginning to pool between your thighs. A shudder passed through you.

“What if—?”

“No, sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Just draw me and don’t stop.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of yours and positioned it against the piece of parchment. His thumb brushed against your knuckles as he pushed you to begin sketching.

For a moment, you did nothing and he did nothing, then his lips pressed once more to your neck as soon as you began drawing.

You shuddered but forced your hand to keep moving. A familiar portrait—his lidded eyes, his sharp nose—began to appear before you just like it had so many times before. This was so usual for you, it was almost comfortable.

But then there was Theo—lips at your neck, seductive words in your ears, fingers slowly tracing down your arms.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he whispered. “Keep going.”

His hands slipped to your waist past the wooden chair’s back. His finger sent shockwaves up your spine. Your hand shook around the pencil, mussing up a few of your lines. It didn’t matter, though, you still saw Theo. His features were much too familiar.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nodded, biting your lip to hide any embarrassing sounds.

His fingers, wrapped around your front, began to split your shirt buttons apart one at a time. Only, every movement was painfully slow. You almost wanted to shout at him to hurry up.

Once your shirt was completely open, he let the two sides linger for a moment there—not pulling them apart, not closing them back. Beneath those thin layers of fabric lay a whole new world of intimacy for him to explore, but it seemed that he was waiting for something.

Finally, you perked up enough to ask. “Why’d you stop?” Your knee bounced nervously.

“Why'd you stop?”

You looked down and, sure enough, your hand had ceased all movements and the portrait of Theo was only half finished.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, resuming your piece. With each new inch of skin he touched, it was getting harder and harder to focus on something as minute as drawing a picture.

Then, as soon as you began working again, he resumed his teasing. At this point, he slipped your shirt apart and let it fall down over your shoulders. He allowed the sleeves to bunch around your elbows where they were bent against the chair's arms.

Your heart raced as his warm breath fanned across your naked skin. Thank Merlin the bra you wore was half-decent—all black and simple lace.

When his fingers made contact with your flesh, you could have sworn your heart stopped. The simple contact had your eyes fluttering, blurring your vision.

“Don't stop,” he growled, plunging his hands into your bra and massaging your breasts. You whimpered and continued your art. This was much harder than you ever could have imagined.

His hands found the clip that rested on the front of your bra and expertly unhooked it. Your breasts sprung free—hard and sore from his toying. A soft moan left you as his hands continued to touch one of your most intimate areas.

Then, as your pencil came to the curves of his neck, his right abandoned your chest and slid down your exposed stomach. Air caught in your throat.

His free hand slowly but determinedly tugged the edge of your skirt up to the top of your thighs. The uniform fabric pooled there awkwardly, showing off your tights and thin panties.

“Fuck, you look as good as I imagined,” he sighed against your ear. One hand is still on your breast, one hand sliding itself between your thighs.

By this point, you'd finished your basic sketch and, typically, would start to go back over everything a bit darker. Then, you'd shade all the appropriate spots. Then, the bell would ring. Typically. But this wasn't a typical thing.

His fingers made contact with your core through your panties. The sounds that left you now were much more shameless—wanton and desperate as he acted out everything you'd imagined in your most private moments.

As your pencil traced the edge of his cheekbones, he slid your undergarments to the side and pushed two fingertips through your mounting slick. Your head fell back and his shoulder was there to catch it.

His lips pressed back to your neck, not caring so much now that you weren't drawing. He seemed satisfied enough with how far you'd gotten. Or he was just too focused on your pleasure.

When he finally sank his fingers into you, your moans became high-pitched and your hips began to rock against his hand.

He groaned against your flesh, mimicking your breathy sounds. His left hand continued to pinch your nipple about, stimulating what he couldn't with his right.

Between his tongue on your neck, his fingers on your breast, his hand against your core, and his sporadically whispered words, you knew you wouldn't last long against him. Still, you forced yourself to try.

With a weak chest, you leaned forward and made your hand resume its previous work. You finished his cheekbones—your hips still rolling against him; you finished his ears—your lips parted in a whine; you finished his throat—your eyes began to roll back.

Then he was sucking a particularly deep bruise against an especially sensitive spot on your neck and you were cumming hard around his hand. Your spend pooled against his palm and your legs.

The pressure from your hands crushed the tip of the charcoal pencil against the paper, creating a big, black blotch across his cheek. It formed a sort of scar against his unblemished skin.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of your face and collapsed onto the parchment, blurring another bit of the sketch. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” he asked, gently retrieving his fingers from within you. “What’s wrong?”

“The picture,” you whined. “It's ruined.”

He leaned around you to take a peek and, upon seeing the disaster that had become your art, he laughed aloud.

“No, darling,” he whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to your head. “I think this is your best one yet.”

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74 , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

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satyascarwash · 2 years ago

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argh.. I guess I will buy my first OW bp soon...

#the skins are fantastic the sprays etc super cute...#Q__Q fuck it

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lewismcqueen · 8 days ago

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Hi hi! I think I already sent this in but some Lewis fluff where his gf is doing a Vogue Beauty Secrets video and he keeps interrupting with Roscoe

beauty secrets! a/n: my first request :) tysm for sending this in, super cute!

"So now I'm just gonna go in with this," you held up a non-descript bottle of gel cleanser in front of the camera, "and--"

"Roscoe! Down boy!"

Lewis' poor attempt at a whisper-shout (which was really just a shout) rang out from the hallway, making you turn to the source of the noise for a moment before smiling at the camera.

"And that's Roscoe. He and Lewis are, uh...hanging out in the background."

You went to your routine, which included several "hydrating" products from brands that were most definitely paying you to use them. They made your face look like porcelain beneath the bright bathroom lights.

Skin fully prepped, you whipped out a tube of primer that you may or may not have stolen from the set of one of the series you starred in recently. Your makeup artist probably had more where this came from, right?

"I always make sure to prime first before--"

"Bloody hell!"

Something shattered in the distance, making you jump while dots of primer were still on your face.

"Lewis, you alright back there?"

"Yup, sorry, love!" Right after, you heard him mutter to himself, "That sounded bloody expensive..."

Oh no.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Deal with it later.

"...And I like to do two layers of setting spray. My face doesn't move an inch afterwards!"

"I would hope not, wouldn't want your face falling off."

When you turned to your left, Lewis beamed just behind your shoulder, holding a displeased-looking Roscoe in his arms. You grinned, and raised an eyebrow. "Making a cameo?"

"I was actually gonna ask you where the nail clippers were, but sure."

"Wanna say hi, buddy?"

Lewis held the pitbull up with a grunt, moving his paw in a waving motion. He set Roscoe down and planted a kiss on your cheek, widening your smile.

"See you in a few. I'm getting us a new vase."

#lightning writes #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #requests

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sen-thebootmutt · 4 months ago

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What basic things should people know about caring for leather?

Oh, how I love all the questions /genuine 💞💞

Okay!!!

So, leather is a skin, right?? It’s a hide. How do we care for our own skin?? Your basic steps:

Rinse

Clean

Rinse

Moisturize

A light spray of water, clean with a gentle soap (non-scented glycerin soap or saddle soap and a small horsehair/badgerhair brush), rinse and wipe off all the soap residue, and moisturize!

“Sen,” you say, “how do I moisturize leather?” Good question!! It’s going to depend on the type of leather.

There’s two big categories of leather; oil tan, and high shine. Oil tan leather is matte, soft, and more flexible (think of old leather dress shoes or casual boots). High shine leather is, well, self explanatory lol (shiny, less flexible, more glossy).

With oil tan leather, you’ll use a leather conditioner! Most bootblacks recommend Hubberd’s Shoe Grease (a heavier, denser conditioner), Obenauf’s Heavy Leather Preservative (more waxy), or Aussie Saddle conditioner (like Obenauf’s, but has a higher beeswax content). These are all pretty easily available online, and can even be bought in bulk and put into other containers!

For high shine leather, you use polish! There’s lots of different brands, but most folks get their start with Kiwi shoe polish (not super high quality, but readily available at big box stores like Walmart and Target). Most experienced bootblacks will use Lincoln or Angelus polish (your choice will depend on things like local humidity, altitude, experience, and technique). Apply a thin layer of polish to the boot, mist with a light spray of water, buff with a horsehair boot brush, and finish with a fine cotton buffing cloth!

I love bootblacking, and I love teaching. If anyone wants, I might record myself the next time I do my boots, so y’all can see these techniques in action!

#pls if you want me to make a bootblacking video let me know!!#also; a lot of these things will work for garments too!!#your leather jackets/vests/handbags/gloves #thanks for letting me talk about this bestie #asks answered #callalily849 #bootblack #leatherdyke #leather dyke #leather

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goosewriting · 1 month ago

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I just read all your Joaquin stuff!! You write him perfect so great job! I love it so much ! If possible could you do either your both ditching eachother up after a fight (supper fluffy) or something along the lines of reader not being able to breath (either health issue or injury ) and then having to deal with that. No pressure if you don’t have time !!

(Not) Doctor's Orders

summary: Joaquín and reader tend to each other’s wounds after a mission.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) mention of blood, description of injuries and treating them, kisses, innuendos

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i’m gonna assume instead of “ditching” you meant “stitching” each other up? why, you’ve read my mind dear anon, for that trope is one of my absolute most favouritetest<33 the “super fluffy” aspect kinda got away from me tho and it ended up way more suggestive than intended :’v hope you’ll like it nonetheless!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

After a mission abroad, you’re sent to a safe house nearby instead of flying back to HQ immediately. All in all, the mission went great, except that you got shot. The bullet didn’t fully hit you, luckily; it just nicked your leg. But it still took off a chunk of flesh, and it hurts.

Your arm is around Joaquín’s shoulders as he holds up part of your weight, helping you walk. When you make it through the door, you let your bags fall in the hallway; you’ll take care of it later. The house is pretty small, and you enter into the main room, serving as both the living and dining area, with a kitchenette on the other side. He crosses the space and brings you to the bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

Joaquín takes out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and you both shrug off your jackets and the bulletproof vests you were wearing underneath, tossing everything to the side. You inspect your leg and hiss when you brush over the wound, going straight across your mid-thigh. He kneels down before you, his hands hovering over it, but he stops, looking up at you.

“Can I take it off?” he asks, the slightest tremble in his voice. Heat spreads on your face, and you mentally curse at yourself for the reaction. You’ve been crushing on Joaquín for a while, and you’re pretty sure he feels the same. This is really not how you pictured how undressing for the first time would go. When you don’t immediately respond, he’s quick to add, “Sorry, no need. I’ll just cut them open.”

But you stop him from getting the scissors from the kit by placing your hand on his, and his movements halt instantly, his eyes shooting up to meet yours.

“No, don’t,” you say, quickly retracting your hand. Another wave of heat prickling on your cheeks. “I– I don’t have a change of pants.”

Lifting yourself off the tub with a hiss, you pull down the garment to your knees, and he helps you get them off completely. There’s a slight dust of dark pink on his cheeks and ears, but he tries to mask it with concern and focus at the sight of your wound. Without wasting a second, he starts cleaning it. When he applies the disinfecting spray, you take a sharp breath through your teeth, your whole body tensing at the sting.

“Sorry,” Joaquín mutters, taking out the sterile needle and thread from its packaging. “Ready?”

You nod, and when he pierces through your skin, the pain makes you slump forward slightly, holding onto his shoulder opposite to the stitching hand for support. He works with his brows slightly furrowed, trying his best to get this done as quickly and painless as possible. To distract yourself from the pain, you study his face, the bridge of his nose, the moles sprinkled on his cheeks and chin, the deep chocolate swirls in his eyes. It dawns on you that Joaquín is kneeling in front of you between your legs, and the thoughts that follow make you quickly look away from him, focusing on the generic brand shampoo bottle in the corner instead.

“Done,” he finally announces, cutting the last bit of thread after tying a knot. After putting one final plaster over it, he straightens up a bit, almost rising to your eye level. You let go of his shoulder, intending to hold onto the edge of the tub. However, he gently takes your arm in his hands, inspecting it further for injuries. Then he does the same to your other arm. Finally, he looks around you to check your back. Once he’s satisfied that there are no other big wounds that need his attention, he grabs a clean rag and fully stands up to turn toward the sink. After drenching it and wringing out the extra water, he turns back to you, gingerly holding your face in his hands as he looks down at you, and you can’t help but melt at his touch. He’s handling you with such care, it makes your whole body buzz with warmth, your heart incessantly thumping against your ribcage.

You close your eyes so he can wipe over them, getting rid of all the dust and dried blood from the little cut on your forehead. Over that one he places a small band-aid, then his hand rests under your chin again to make you look up.

“There, that’s better,” he says with a small smile, and his voice is so soft, so intimate, you fear you might pass out right there. When he drops his hand, you immediately miss his touch.

“What about you?” you ask.

Joaquín looks down at himself, placing his hands on different parts of his body as if to check if they hurt.

“I got out unscathed, I think,” he says, and you rise a brow at him. You lean forward slightly and snake your arm around him to softly poke him in the back, and he flinches with an ‘ouch!’

“Unscathed, my ass. You got shot,” you remark, remembering all too well how a stray bullet had found him. Luckily, you were both wearing your bulletproof gear.

Your eyes widen slightly as Joaquín grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and taking it off. You try no to stare too obviously. Really, you try. But then he turns around to look at himself in the mirror, and you spot the dark bruise already forming on his back where the bullet had impacted. Before you can help yourself, your hand reaches out, your fingertips softly tracing over the purplish skin. His eyes meet yours through the mirror.

“Well, my professional medical diagnosis is that you don’t need stitches for that,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. You’re not sure what it is, if it’s the twinkle in Joaquín’s eyes or the amount of exposed skin or the fact that either of you could have died today, but a burst of confidence bubbles up within you, and you intend to take advantage of it. “But you know what they say the best medicine is,” you add as you lean forward, then place a soft kiss to the bruise. You hear him gasp in surprise.

As you lean back again, you don’t dare look at him. Surely by now your whole face is on fire. Your whole body certainly is. In fact, you almost can’t feel your wounds or the ache in your bones, your whole focus on the man in front of you.

For a moment, Joaquín doesn’t move, and the warmth you felt earlier quickly dissipates, replaced by a cold panic that spreads from your gut into your limbs. You’ve overstepped. You’ve ruined everything. He never liked you back, it was all in your head. Your mind reels as you try to find the words to apologise for your actions. But before you can think of anything, he slowly comes back down to his knees in front of you, the deepest and most adorable blush you’ve seen on him yet adorning his cheeks and ears, all the way down to his collarbones.

“Best medicine, you say,” he repeats your words, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes shyly find their way to yours. “I think I could use some more of that.”

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words. The implication sends a flutter through your gut that spreads into your whole body.

“Where?” you ask, breathless.

Joaquín points to a cut on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours, and you lean in again, your lips ghosting over the spot. Then he points to a scratch on his arm, and you place another featherlight kiss. This goes on for a while, where he wordlessly points to different parts of his body, his chest, his arms, and you kiss it better.

Then one of his hands finds your good leg, staying on the outside of your thigh, and you think you’ll combust on the spot. His skin coming in contact with yours sends a series of sparks through your nerves and up your spine, eliciting a small gasp from you.

“Here,” he whispers, his free hand pointing to his throat, right next to his Adam’s apple. Your own hands come up, a bit shaky, and hold his face as you leave a trail of small kisses from where he pointed, all the way up to his cheekbone. He lets out a shuddering breath, looking at you through half lidded eyes when you pull back.

“Anywhere else?” you ask, but you can’t even finish your question as his lips finally come crashing onto yours, and once the initial surprise is gone, you tilt your head and sigh into the kiss. His lips move with urgency against yours, the hand on your leg sliding to your waist and pulling you to him, the other cradling the back of your head. You reciprocate as best as you can, given you feel like you’ve entirely lost control of your body. When he breaks for air, both of you panting heavily, it's his turn to leave a trail of kisses on your throat.

“The good thing about this medicine,” you say between breaths as he leaves wet kisses on your pulse point. “Is that it works both ways.”

Joaquín snorts, stopping what he’s doing to pull back and look up at you.

“Yeah?” he says, slightly out of breath, then his gaze darkens a bit. “I can think of another… treatment, too. To make you feel better.” Your heart skips several beats at his words.

“Well, it might be a while until we can see a proper doctor,” you say as you softly rake your fingers through his hair, and he hums at the sensation. “Might as well take every precaution.”

Joaquín gets back up to his feet, carefully picking you up under your legs and around your back from the tub, and you hold onto his shoulders. As he brings you to the bedroom, you don’t even look back at the mess you left in the bathroom, completely lost in his eyes. You’ll take care of that tomorrow.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8923 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala

#goose feathers #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #tfatws joaquin x reader #tfatws joaquin x you #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu #brave new world joquin x you #the falcon x reader

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appocalipse · 1 year ago

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heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.

thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words

"Stevie!"

You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...

"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.

"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."

Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.

"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."

You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.

"Am not!"

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.

Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.

It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.

"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.

"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"

You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.

"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."

"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"

You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"

"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"

"My hair?"

Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.

"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."

"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."

Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"

"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."

"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."

"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"

Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."

With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.

Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.

"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."

He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"

"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."

His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"

You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"

He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"

"Why not?"

Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.

You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."

Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.

You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?

"Well, what if I carried you?"

"Like a princess?"

Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

"How romantic," Nancy observes.

"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.

"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."

"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."

"As if," Eddie counters.

Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.

"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."

"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."

"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."

"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."

"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."

Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."

And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."

"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"

You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."

"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."

Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.

The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."

"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."

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tan1shere · 3 months ago

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Freaky Deaky

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I got this idea when this song popped up on my Spotify the other day. I hadn't listened to it in soooo long but omg this idea SPRUNG into my brain - this is inspired a bit by the music video so if you haven't seen it go watch it !!! And lastly enjoy 🥰

Summary: she wasn't use to this from you. But on valentines day, you decide to let that side of you show.

Warnings: smut ! Daddy kink yall 😋 reader is super girly, and many more kinky surprises 😈

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist

"I've been feeling freaky deaky."

"You're on your way to see me."

14th of February. The day of love. Some is passionate, sweet, loving. And some is freaky, which is what tonight was for the both of you. You only got the courage to do this when she asked you to be her valentine. The usual flowers, chocolates and a sign. But, there was a small bag. You look inside to be faced with some lingerie. It was pink. Your favorite color. Not just any pink, a hot pink. The sexy kind of pink. It impelled you to be a bit more confident and open with her. You've had sex, sure. Countless times. But you haven't been dating for long, so ofcourse there were kinks and fantasies neither of you knew about. That changes, tonight.

You had been laying on your bed, the pink fluffy sheets felt great on your skin. You were about to get up and get ready for your night with Billie when you get a text from her.

Bills💗

- "I'll be there in 25 baby."

- "Awesome can't wait ;)☺"

- "Me too mama.😈💋"

A smile spreads across your face, rolling over on your bed with a giggle. You adored the way she made you feel, forever giggly. You never really showed that side of yourself from past experiences but she brings a comfort, a safeness no one in your life has ever brought for you before. So, you can be your true selfaround her. You go to your vanity picking out the right makeup, moving onto your hair. You put it up in a cute messy but styled bun. "Cute." You say softly to yourself, messing with a few strands on the sides. Getting up and heading to your closet to pick out this satin pink robe, putting that over the lingerie Billie had gotten you.

The pink lace hugged your body just right, and she was very excited to see you in it. It'd be a lie if she said she wasn't dreaming of how you'd look in it. Shes finally getting to live that dream, and many more. You spray some nice smelling purfume on from Victoria secret, sealing the whole look. Feeling amazing. You hear a knock on the door going to open it, looking at her with a grin. Her eyes wander, going over your tits, sitting pretty in that bra. So perfectly. Your waist, hips. The see-through satin robe hid hardly anything. So she was looking. Loud and proud.

You invite her in, letting your hips sway as you go over to your bed. "The lingerie fits nicely, thank you for getting it for me." You say to her sweetly. So sweetly infact you hear her gulp. "It fits you very. Well." She joins you on the bed. "I got you a little something. Two little somethings." Her head shakes. "I told you I'm fine baby it's ok, I don't need anything." You move to grab it. "Too late. Open open!" You say handing her the pretty bag it comes in. She peeks inside seeing a strap and dildo both pink to match with everything. She looks at you, but you nod your head for her to look at the other thing.

It was these two chunky rings she had been after, you just had to get them for her. "Mama." She says looking at you. "Those were incredibly expensive, I would've gotten them." You just shake your head. "You've been so good to me I really wanted to return the favor." Your eyes were soft and genuine. "God I'm gunna fucking ravish you tonight." She growls, not standing anymore of the distance between the two of you. Her hands reach out, grabbing your face and kissing you with such lust. She slowly pushes you back on the bed hovering over you.

Her hands fiddle with the silky strings on your robe, getting it to come undone and take it off. You go to take the rest off but she stops you. One of her fantasies was to fuck you while you had something sexy like this on. She was adamant on fulfilling that. "Keep it on.." She trails off as if she wasn't done with her sentence. Her hand moves to the bottom of your underwear, snapping back a part near the crotch. You gasp as cool air hits you, biting your lip. You had no idea it had an opening. Your eyes look to her, she's just smirking. "I have things all planned baby, don't you worry." You blush, not that it was noticeable with the amount you dabbed on.

She reaches for the strap, the band being sparkly and pink, the dido being a lighter shade of that. She takes her shirt and pants off, grabbing the harness and then attaching it to herself. You watch Intently, deeply intrigued as she always just had it on whenever the two of you fucked. She notices this, slowing her movements. Almost as if she was giving you a little show. She lines up, observing how noticeably wet you were. Just for her, because of her. She was proud. Her fingers touch the skin of your pussy. Feeling the wetness. She gathers some, bringing it away and straight to her mouth. She moans at the taste, making your breath hitch.

The tip prods at your entrance, causing light moans to fill the room, whimpers. She soaks it up, repeats it in her own brain at how beautiful you sounded. She slowly sinks into you, nearly bottoming out but you grab her bicep. She kisses your head, letting you know she's right there. "Good girl, you got it." Her kisses move to your cheek. "Pretty girl, so good for me." The praise was going straight to your head. Causing your eyes to shut as the pleasure builds up. She begins to move slowly. But even at that pace it provoked your eyes to roll back, biting your candy pink lip once again. Her kisses move down to your neck, sucking hard. Marking you up. Her hands rest beside your head as she speeds up.

You move your head, opening your eyes and looking up in the mirror. Her back muscles flexing. Making your head spin as she hits the perfect spots.

Got the mirror on the ceiling...

You're in the mood to please me...

"Going to break your back." She snarls into your neck, far deep into her lust. Adoring how you'd arch into her thrusts. You moan into her ear. "P-please." She chuckles. "You want that? Want me to break your back?" You didn't even know this yet as she hadn't told you but it slips out past your lips. "Yes daddy, fuck!" Her eyes grow darker, needing to make sure she heard you correctly. "Say that again?" Then you panic, did she not like it? "I- uhm-" Her gentle hand makes contact with your jaw. "What'd you call me?" Her hips snap harshly, making your eyes yet again roll back. "Daddy!" You moan, loudly. "Fuck." She breathes. That was the thing she'd touch herself thinking about. And to actually hear it.

From the rightful source made her want to cum right then and there. "You drive me insane baby." Her tongue runs along your neck, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver

I get so infatuated and erotic with you.

Her thrusts become relentless making it impossible for you to hold on. "Mmm, please. I'm so close." She doesn't falter. "Yeah? Go on then, want a reminder of tonight. Never going to wash this one. Wanna keep it locked away for safe keeping." She was truly feral for you and it sent you off the rails. "Bills fuck!" You screech as you cum hard all over her, feeling your legs shake. Just from seeing that, hearing and feeling everything. It makes her close. The fact she could make you feel such pleasure makes her feel powerful. Wanting to protect you. She grunts feeling the base hit her perfectly. "Fuck you have no idea what you do to me."

She says, listening carefully to your moans. And within seconds she's now cumming, it leaking out, slightly onto you aswel. Your breaths were heavy together, calming down from such an intense round of pleasure.

Abd that was just the first of many. Many rounds that night.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie elish icons #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish oneshot

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ace-turned-confused · 9 months ago

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seashells & sandcastles | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: weekend break in full swing, you spend the day “relaxing” with joel word count: 5,3k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / wears a bikini & a dress / can swim, Joel picks up & carries reader but Joel = huge big strong man so he can carry anyone (fight me if you disagree), pet names, unspecified age gap, food & alcohol consumption, parents getting tipsy, smut, super duper explicit grinding (?), public fingering, unprotected p in v, come eating, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, pussy pronouns huzzah!, praise kink, size kink a/n: so........... sea spray was just a silly little oneshot that now has over 1k notes which is actually insane????? actually cried about that btw but anyways i cannot thank everyone enough for all the kind words 🥹 this follows on from where we left off, but could be read on its own :) big thanks to @morallyinept for helping me with some of the warnings 💗 idk how some of this got in here guys i swear and special thanks to my bestie for calling me a wizard and always screaming with me, love you so much 🕺🏻 not beta'd, have fun 😇

Drifting in and out of sleep just as the sun starts filtering through the curtains, the distant sound of rolling waves and the rich smell of the sea air floats through the window. In the back of your mind, you register the sturdy frame behind you, the arm draped over your waist, the heft pressed against your ass. With the sheet bundled up in your arms and barely covering you, the air in the room is stifling, even with the fan blowing — only you can’t blame the summer temperatures for the heat crawling under your bare skin and settling between your legs.

By the time you wake completely, the arm over you is held tight and the heft against you is hot and hard, poking into you. Your memory comes back to you and that's when you realise — you’ve slept with Joel Miller. You know, dad’s best friend Joel Miller. You’re not sure what good will come from this, but he’s still in your bed the morning after, so that must be a plus — right?

With steady breaths being puffed against your neck, you shift around and slowly grind yourself back into him, your eyes fluttering closed and quiet whimpers falling from your lips. His arm around you tightens even further, pulling you into him and he starts rutting against you, still sound asleep. Reaching between your legs, you drag your fingers through your folds, the inside of your thighs slippery and wet as you rub them together.

You reach behind your back and feel for him. You were rendered speechless seeing the size of him last night, air taken from your lungs at how impossibly full you were and he feels just the same now as you touch him for the first time — a fair gap between your fingers and thumb as you try to wrap your hand around his girth, beads of precome starting to pearl as you brush your thumb over his tip.

Joel keeps mindlessly grinding himself against you as you take a finger to your clit, drawing in tight, steady circles. You push yourself into him more forcefully, soft moans gradually getting louder. You could just finish the job yourself, but why do that when you could have Joel do it instead.

“Joel?” It comes out breathy, your voice still raspy from sleep. He doesn’t respond, and you pull your hand from between your legs to grip his hip behind you. You shake him as best you can, fingers digging into his skin and he murmurs.

“Joel.” Twisting your torso to look at him, you drag your hand up his side to shake him more vigorously — his eyes finally flit open and he grumbles a good morning.

“Need you, Joel.”

“Already got me, ‘m right here.”

He grinds himself into you one more time and pushes your leg up and away from him, revealing your glistening cunt to his eyes. He drags his fingers through you, coating his fingers before taking his cock in his hand, stroking your slick up and down his length.

“Barely woken up and you’re already all needy, huh? S’what happens when you get fucked real good.”

Guiding you with a hand on your hip, he pulls you back to press his cock against you, slipping himself between your folds. He moves your leg back into place, holding himself in the wet heat between your thighs and starts thrusting, the fat head of him just catching on your entrance but never pushing in. You gasp and clench around nothing, feeling painfully empty.

“You’re gonna come just like this.”

“Joel-“

“Don’t wanna hear any complaints. You be good and come for me like this, then maybe I’ll give you what you want and fuck you nice ‘n hard later. Understand?”

You whine back at him, eyes falling closed and he snakes a hand around you, holding two fingers on your clit and he stops moving.

“Understand?”

“Yes, yes I understand.” You nod frantically and he resumes his movements, fingers swirling round and round, cock dragging against you.

Just before you start unravelling, a loud knock sounds from your door and Joel slows his hips to an agonising pace.

“Hey kiddo, you up?” Your dad’s voice is muffled and you see the door handle start to turn.

“DON’T-“ You’re shouting back at him before you can even think. “I’m getting dressed, Dad! I’m, uh… I’m up.”

You pray your voice comes across more steady through the door than it sounded to your own ears. It was bad enough that you were nearly caught palming the bulge in Joel’s shorts the night before, but this…

The handle snaps back up and you glance around with a sigh of relief, really taking the two of you in for the first time this morning: bodies moulded to one another, damp and sticky with sweat, Joel’s throbbing cock sliding along your cunt, fingers pressed firmly into your clit, your thighs a mess of precome and slick that’s been dripping out of you since before you even woke up.

Tightening your jaw and breathing hard through your nose, you knock your head back into Joel’s to hold back a moan as you clench down again.

“Your mom and I are heading out, you wanna come?”

Joel actually snorts at that and you whip your head around to glare at him, his eyes dark and a sly smirk on his face.

“Um, no, thanks. I’ll stay here.”

“Okay, see you later. Looks like Joel must’ve headed out for a walk, will you let him know we’ve gone when you see him?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Alright, you have fun.”

His footsteps fade off, the front door closing with a click and Joel takes your jaw in his hand, pulling you to look at him. You can smell yourself on his fingers, and feel him leaving cold, wet fingerprints on your cheeks.

“You having fun?” Joel punches forward more forcefully this time, the tip of his cock knocking into your clit. Your mouth falls open at the feeling, nodding your head as best you can.

“Asked you a question,” he whispers to you, squeezing his fingers into you.

“Yes, Joel.” You smile elatedly and he huffs a laugh at you.

“You wanna come for me?”

“Oh, please, yes please.”

Letting go of your jaw, he presses his fingers into your clit again, gliding between your folds at a steady pace. What was sea air has been replaced with the smell of Joel and sex, his thick fingers and heavy cock and deep, gravelly voice are hurtling you to your end in record time.

“Never felt a pussy as drenched as this one. Bet I could slip right in her like it’s nothing.”

You’re still twisted around to watch him, and he pulls back to watch where he disappears into you, over and over again.

“Feels like heaven, baby. Looks like it too, fuck me.”

He snaps his hips into you repeatedly, taking your hand in his and replacing his fingers on your clit with your own, flicking them over the swollen bud.

“Come on sweetheart. Soon as you come I’m going right with you.”

And you do — thighs tightening around him and hips jerking, a high-pitched whine coming from the back of your throat. He holds your hand in place and comes after a few more thrusts, spilling into the tight space between your legs. You feel it pool between your folds, seeping down your thighs and he forces your fingers apart, coating your hand in his spend.

Lifting your hand to your face, he shoves both your own and his fingers into your mouth.

“I got to taste you, now you get to taste me.”

If you weren’t still trembling with aftershocks you might’ve come again from the sheer depravity of it all.

Joel pulls his hand from your mouth and turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy exchange of tongues and spit and his come.

“You okay?” Breaking away from you, he tugs the sheet up to wipe your mouth, followed by his own.

“Am I okay? Jesus, Joel.” You laugh and burrow your face into the pillow, completely fucked out and you haven’t even had breakfast.

He cradles the back of your head, planting a gentle kiss on your temple and you can feel him smiling into you.

“Go shower, we’re heading for the beach today, remember? Plus, your dad said to have fun, and I’m gonna make sure you do.”

He traces a hand down your body, pushing himself off the bed and stretching with a groan. You could easily drift off to sleep again, but spending the day alone with Joel, free from your parents? That’s better than any dream you could have.

Joel can’t remember the last time he had a break like this — summer sun, bottomless drinks, the serenity of the sea. It’s off-season and the beach isn’t too crowded. Lounging back in his fold-out chair, he watches — a father and son excavating trenches and building up sandy defence walls, a little girl carving patterns with the end of her spade, an elderly couple strolling hand in hand just where the water breaks, seagulls nip at each other over old sandwich crusts, and a handful of surfers are far out in the waves.

With the sea ahead of him and the mountains behind, he could easily get used to this: friendly faces, quiet chatter, and hearty laughter all around; peace and stillness as far as the eye can see — and then there’s you.

You haven’t sat down for longer than five minutes the whole time. Zig-zagging along where the water washes over your feet, you crouch down every few steps to dig around in the sand, collecting an array of shells, pebbles, and glass smoothed by the everlasting waves. You’ve already been back twice to empty your shorts pockets, only to venture out again to continue your search. Every so often you look back at him to flash a smile, hand in the sky to shield yourself from the sun.

On your third trip back to unload your findings you stand, hands on your hips to inspect your haul.

“What you gonna do with all this?” He asks as you finish scattering everything out on your towel.

“Dunno, I just like picking them up.” You take a pebble in hand, smoothing your fingers over its surface.

“And how you gettin’ it all home?”

You lift your head to look at him, perching your sunglasses on your head and squinting in the sun.

“Don’t your shorts have pockets too?” You grin and he shakes his head, turning his attention to his unopened book.

“You brought a book?” Your voice is laced with disbelief, and he draws his eyes back to you again.

“Didn’t come here just to drool over you all day, believe it or not.”

“I’m sure you could multitask. Come on, you’re seriously not gonna swim or anything?”

“And who’s gonna guard these ancient artifacts of yours? I’m sure there’s some real rare finds here, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrows as he leans over to look at everything.

“‘Ancient artifacts’ my ass, it’s a heap of fucking rocks and glass Joel, come on.” You hold your hand out in waiting, scoffing when he doesn’t move to get up.

“Fine, if you’re not gonna come with me then at least put more sunscreen on my back.” You pull your shorts down, rounding the towel to stop before him.

As he starts to stand up, you drop down to your knees, eyes locked on his and a cheeky grin spreads across your face as you sink into the sand, head levelled perfectly with his crotch. You lean to the side, a hand planted on his covered thigh to steady yourself while you rummage through your bags, and all moral thoughts flee his mind.

“You’re real trouble, sweetheart.” You ignore his comment and stand, handing him the bottle and turning your back to him.

He starts below the nape of your neck and you jerk forward, muscles in your back tensing briefly from the stark cold sensation. Palms massaging between your shoulder blades, you soon relax and lean into his touch and he lifts each strap of your bikini top, letting them snap back against your skin once the area is covered.

Moving further down your back, he pushes his hands under the band of your bikini top, curling them around your body until his fingers brush against the supple skin of the sides of your breasts, your breath catching just so.

Leaning in close behind you, he lowers his voice right into your ear, “You just wanted my hands on you.”

He smirks to himself and withdraws his hands, dragging his palms down your sides and sneaking his fingers under your waistband, squeezing your soft, unsunned skin. Part of him wishes you were somewhere secluded, where he could just take them right off, but working you up and fogging your mind is far more rewarding.

Glancing around, the few other people on the beach are well occupied — he grips your hip with one hand and twists the other around to your front, dipping down to cup you entirely.

“Joel…” You say in warning, but he knows it’s an empty threat.

“What, you can tease me but I can’t do the same? Seems a little unfair, sweetheart.”

He applies pressure on your clit with the heel of his palm and you try angling your hips, chasing any relief you can find. Curling his fingers into your heat, he confirms his suspicions.

“Thought this morning you were just bein’ needy, but this pussy’s always drooling for me, isn’t she?”

You whine at that, already sounding desperate and you push your head back against his chest.

“Please, Joel.”

“Please what? What you want, baby?”

“Want you.”

“Wrong answer.” He keeps his hand steady between your legs, fingers just prodding at your entrance and you try to press your thighs together. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” Your voice trails off to near silence before you can get the words out, and you turn your head to the side, trying to burrow yourself into him.

“Don’t waste my time, sweetheart. Either tell me, or you’re gettin’ nothing at all.”

“Want your fingers. Please Joel, wanna come on your fingers.”

“Good girl, that wasn't so hard.”

Finally pushing two fingers into you, you’re already pulsing around him. Your mouth hangs open, a strained moan slipping out.

“Only doing this if you keep quiet, or this whole beach is gonna know I’m knuckle deep in this tight cunt.”

You whine again but close your mouth and nod. It seems you really are trying your best to be good — either that or you’re so desperate you’ll do anything. Joel keeps watch of your surroundings, knowing you won’t keep your eyes open — or stay alert — long enough to do it yourself.

Pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, you’re sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, hands gripping his arms to keep yourself upright, small whimpers sounding from the back of your throat. He can feel how close you are, walls fluttering around him, but you’re tense, maybe unable to let go in fear of being caught.

He’s a fast learner, though, and already knows that his words alone are enough to give you that final push.

“Nobody’s gonna see you, sweetheart, been keepin’ watch the whole time. You been such a good girl for me, keepin’ so quiet.”

You clench around him more forcefully — he knows he’s heading in the right direction and curls his fingers into you, pressing that same delicious spot he found so easily the night before.

“That feel good? Know my fingers are so much bigger than your own. Bet it’s not as nice as my cock, though, huh? Had you completely stretched out, took me so well.”

Your chest is heaving as you hold yourself back, thighs trembling and he knows you’re impossibly close.

“You’ve been so good for me, ‘m gonna fill you up again tonight — I’m gonna fuck ya nice ‘n hard, just like I promised. You can be as loud as you want, wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make.”

That does it. Nails digging into his skin, you cross your knees and squeeze your thighs tightly, face screwed up as you come around him and soak your bottoms. He keeps whispering praises to you, pulling his sticky fingers from you when you still and lean your weight against him. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you upright until you’re ready to stand by yourself.

When he notices you’re sound of mind again, he turns you in his arms, hands resting on your waist.

“How ‘bout that swim you wanted?”

You huff through your nose, a small smile on your face as you throw your head forward, knocking into his chest. He bends his knees as he tightens his grip on you, lifting you up and practically throwing you over his shoulder. You shriek with laughter, your fists landing in playful punches on his back and feet kicking in the air as he marches towards the water.

Placing you down on your feet again, he doesn’t give you time to scold him and seals his mouth to yours, one hand pulling you into him by the small of your back, the other cradling your cheek. For the first time, he notices how the softness of your skin elsewhere carries over into your lips, and you hang your arms over his shoulders, fingers threading gently through his curls. Considering all the time he’s spent with you has been frankly pornographic, this kiss in contrast is surprisingly pure.

Pulling back from you, your eyes are warm as you stare up at him. Taking a hand in his, he laces your fingers together and starts walking, pulling you into the gentle waves.

After your… escapades on the beach, you and Joel spent the afternoon winding your way through town — perusing all the tucked-away shops filled with antiques and random nick-nacks, stopping for ice cream, Joel taking your photo for you to send to friends. You insisted on taking one of him too, promising you’d be the only one to see it.

He’s been casually handsy since you left the beach — crossing the street hand in hand, guiding you by the small of your back, that same hand drifting down to rest on your backside.

A few repulsed glances were shot in your direction whenever he had his hands on you for too long, and rather than back off, he only made it more obvious — pulling your body into his, his hands groping the nearest stretch of skin, a kiss lasting far too long to be publicly decent. With a constant smirk on his face, you reckon he was rather proud of himself for getting you flustered and pissing off the townsfolk even further.

It’s almost disconcerting how easy things are. You’re not used to feeling so laid back, not worrying about making a fool of yourself, not caring about the looks you’ve been getting.

You’re making your way down a quiet side street when Joel’s phone rings from his pocket.

“Hello?”

He shifts his weight to one leg, a hand on his hip with his lax knee popping out to the side.

“Yeah, we’re just walking through town.” He looks at you, mischief in his eyes as the corner of his mouth lifts in a skew smile.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll see you soon.”

Joel says his goodbyes, dropping his phone back into his pocket. Taking his place by your side again, he drapes an arm around your shoulders as you resume your journey.

“So?” You look up at him, face framed beautifully by the late afternoon sun — skin glowing, curls tousled by the salty air, eyes crinkling at the corners as he turns to look down at you.

“Was your dad — he just wanted to know where we were.” His grin only spreads wider as you make your way down the street. “He told me I didn’t have to do all this, that you’re a big girl who doesn’t need to be taken care of. Said I should take some time for myself, relax a little.”

You realise then that, much to your annoyance, your dad does have a point — Joel hasn’t relaxed at all, he’s spent almost every hour together with you. Not to mention he’s barely seen your dad, the man who invited him to begin with.

“Oh… I mean, he is right. I’m sure you came here for a nice break, and you haven’t actually had a moment on your own.”

“Sweetheart, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in years, thanks to you.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head and you feel warm at his words.

“I just thought it’s funny what your old man said about you — that’s the one thing you do need, right baby? Just need someone to take care of ya.”

You’re scared to admit it, but Joel really has taken care of you — in more ways than one. You decide not to fret about what’ll happen after this weekend — you can still enjoy the rest of your time here and whatever Joel has in store for after dark.

Upon arriving home, your dad had asked what you and Joel got up to — Joel stayed tight-lipped and you managed to keep your voice level as you recounted the day’s happenings, minus the obscenities. Your dad mentioned that he and your mom had also gone into town, curious that they didn’t bump into you — you’d brushed it off as just missing each other, and thank God for that.

With all the concerned looks you’d received throughout the afternoon, it never crossed your mind that they could’ve come from your own parents, too. You’ve had two close calls now and your luck is bound to run out at some point. You cringe at the thought of your dad finding out about this whole situation — his best friend sleeping with his daughter, his daughter sleeping with his best friend. You’re not sure which version would horrify him more.

You gave him a tight smile in an attempt to cut the conversation short, walking off to your room to avoid further interrogation.

You’d been looking forward to dinner though, but when Joel approached the table, he sat down across from you, leaving your mom to take up the chair next to you. You’d twitched your eyebrows in questioning, but all he gave you was a slight nod of his head.

You thought back to last night — with Joel sitting beside you, you’d tested him and in return, he fucked you better than anyone before. You were keen on trying to push him again, but the added obstacle of the extra distance tonight would’ve made it far more risky.

Throughout dinner he made sure your parents' glasses were never empty, sending you a wink and a slanted smile with each pour as they became more and more carefree, his free hand caressing your back every time he rounded the table.

You’re not usually one to back down from a challenge, especially now that Joel is involved, but you suspected you wouldn’t need to tease him anymore to get what you wanted.

With dinner over and your parents having blissfully stumbled to their room, you now find yourself pinned against the countertop with Joel mouthing kisses along your neck. You’d told your parents you would handle the dishes, but you doubt you’ll even get a start on that.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you didn’t try anything funny under the table tonight.” Joel’s hands roam all over you as he nuzzles up against your jaw.

“I thought about it, but someone made it rather difficult.”

“Yeah well, you were enough of a brat last night, ‘bout time you started behaving.”

“Seemed to me you rather liked it.”

You’re smiling to yourself when you feel his hand smack down on your ass and you yelp, your dress barely doing anything to soften the blow.

“Seems to me that you quite like bein’ punished. Now, I do enjoy puttin’ you in your place, but it’s nice when you’re a good girl and I can reward you instead. You’re all dressed up too, you put on this pretty dress for me?”

Gripping the counter’s edge, you drop your head as he lifts your dress around your waist and holds it against your back. He pushes himself into you until you’re flush with the cool granite top, held down underneath him. He smacks down again and you’ve already soaked through your panties.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, you should know this by now. Been good all night, don’t start actin’ up now.”

“Yes…” You’re met with silence, Joel unmoving on top of you — that wasn’t a good enough response. “I wore it for you.”

“Looks real nice, pretty dress for my pretty girl.”

He lifts his chest off of you, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades as he stands. Trailing his hands down your back, he tightens his grip when reaching your hips again, grinding himself into your core. A small gasp falls from your lips and he chuckles as you try pressing your legs together.

He hooks a finger under the gusset of your panties and pulls them to one side, tracing over the lips of your pussy as gently as possible, kneading your ass to spread you open — that and the cool, late-night air coats his finger in a fresh wave of arousal.

“All weepin’ and I’ve barely touched her.”

You’re whining at his words, on the verge of begging him to do something, anything to relieve you. He pulls your panties off completely, dropping them to your ankles and he pulls loose the tie of his shorts.

“Joel?” You prop yourself up on your elbows, turning your head to look at him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You alright?” He rests a hand on you, thumb drawing soft circles into the swell of your ass, concern in his eyes.

“Are we not, uh… not going to bed?”

His eyes turn almost black as all traces of worry fly out the window, lips parted as he ticks his jaw to the side.

“Had no problem with me finger fuckin’ you on the beach, but now you wanna hide away again? What, you scared your old man’s gonna open his door and see his little girl gettin’ railed within an inch of her life? And by his own best friend, of all people.”

That really shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, even more arousal seeping out of you and trickling down the inside of your thighs. Joel lays his fingers flat and wipes his hand up through you before slapping you hard and leaving a burning, sticky handprint on your ass — you buck your hips back into him, letting out a strangled moan.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His shorts rustle as he shifts them down his thighs, and he swipes his hand up your cunt a second time, spreading his fingers and coating them in slick. You can hear how he takes hold of his length, the room filled with your heavy breathing and the lewd sounds of Joel stroking himself with his sticky hand.

He just slips into you and grabs you by the upper arms to pull you up into his chest, your back arching. He grunts as he thrusts up into you and bottoms out in one swift motion, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you cry out, Joel taking up all empty space inside of you, your clit aching from lack of attention.

“You remember what I told you? Wanna hear what pretty noises you can make.” Joel pries your hand away, keeping it in his own as he takes hold of your hip, his other hand moving to your shoulder. “And before you argue, your parents ain’t wakin’ up any time soon baby — you saw ‘em heading off.”

He pulls out to his tip devastatingly slowly and knocks back into you, repeating the same rhythm over and over — you can feel every ridge, vein, and inch of him. Your eyes are pinched shut and your brow knitted, a choked moan sounding out from the back of your throat with each movement.

“Still just as tight as last night, even after bein’ stretched so wide.”

“Mmh, Joel…”

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles into you, lips pressed into your skin.

“Please touch me, please Joel, wanna come.”

“Greedy, are we? Pussy’s stuffed full and she still wants more.” Taking half a step back, he pulls you away from the counter’s edge and removes his hand from your shoulder. “Askin’ so nicely though, really are bein’ such a good girl for me.”

He feels down between your legs and parts his fingers around where he splits you open, wetting them in your creamy slick that coats his cock before reaching around to your front and pressing them into your clit. Your hips jerk as he starts swirling his fingers, still withdrawing slowly and thrusting into you hard — you’re so worked up and sensitive that you’re coming already.

“Ohh, fuck, Joel!” you shout out, clamping down on him, your legs shaking as you struggle to keep yourself standing.

“Good girl, come on now, let it out.” He keeps the same pace in both hand and hips as he works you through it. You whine, face contorted and body writhing in pleasure.

Joe eventually stills inside you as you come down from your high, wrapping his arms around you to hold you against him.

“You ever felt so good, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shake your head haphazardly, still breathless, but you want to see if you can drive him as crazy as he does you. “Never had a cock as big as yours, Joel. Never been so full.”

You feel him twitch inside of you and you break out into a wide grin.

Hand taking ahold of your shoulder once again and readjusting his grip on your hip, he starts slamming his hips into yours, the force of his movements jolting you forward as unabashed moans start falling from your mouth again.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mouth, baby. Definitely ruined this cunt for anyone else, nobody’s gonna make her come like I can. Stretched her so well that anyone else just ain’t gonna do the job.”

Last night was supposedly a punishment, Joel setting you straight after you’d teased him, but this? This feels like you’re being used, having Joel just take what he wants and God do you love it.

“Please come inside me, Joel — wanna be full of your come, want it dripping out of me while I fall asleep.”

It seems like your words work just as well as Joel’s — he pistons into you a handful of times before he erupts, groaning as he empties himself inside of you. He withdraws slightly just to push back in again, working himself even deeper into you, head falling to rest on your back as he folds on top of you.

His hands rub all over your body as he catches his breath, lazy kisses being dotted all over your back and neck. Pulling out of you, Joel grunts and you whimper at the feeling, he crouches down to pull your panties up off the floor, now ruined even further as you feel him start to leak out of you and soak into the already wet cotton.

He turns you to face him, hands cradling your head as he leans to kiss you, the same kind of kiss as earlier on the beach — not driven by lust or need but something real.

“Come on, now let’s go to bed.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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1-800-local-slut · 2 days ago

Text

Space Girl

She's out of this world and in his bed! Meet SuperNova, a humanoid alien who loves everything Earth has to offer. And she loves Mark just as much

Mark Grayson x Black! Alien! Reader

Warning: reader and mark break up and get back together, mentions of smut, it's kind of a long one, but all that aside I hope you enjoy and consider sending requests, leaving comments and likes! <3

Note: you're from a planet called Aurelix, it's a peaceful planet but its people are warriors with a gentle temperament. All the people from this planet have glowing eyes, it can be hidden with contacts. It's basically Earth with way better technology and everyone has powers. Also, you can fly and create burst of energy, your powers are cosmic control due to a genetic experiment and yeah that's it, that's all! Eve and Mark don't have feelings for each other here, man stealing is never the move guys

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For as often as he does it, Mark sometimes felt shame for flying. He felt shame for soaring through the air on a regular basis even though it was part of his genetic makeup. Biologically, he should fly. Logically, he should fly with no guilt. He trained to fly, he likes flying. It's more natural to him than walking sometimes. Yet he can never forget why he can fly. Why his body gave him the strength to destroy lives just as easily as he can save them.

At the end of each day, Mark was a Viltrumite. From a race of brutes who use that same flight to take over worlds and murder anyone who objects. No matter how human he was, Mark would always have something evil inside him. A cancer that no amount of treatment could cure.

That shame keeps him human, as much as he wished he didn't feel it. Others from different planet's didn't get it. Full humans definitely wouldn't get it. And you? You didn't even come close to understanding. Not without trying though.

Mark could never forget when he first saw you. It was warm out, nice and airy with just the right amount of breeze flowing. The house next door received new occupants and settled in quickly it seemed. From his bedroom window, which faced your backyard, he saw you.

Flying in a game of tag with your mother and father, chasing each other with water guns. None of that mattered. The sun caught your skin, which seemed to glow under the light and your curly hair was tied into a gorgeous bundle of mini twist that was then wrapped into a ponytail. Pieces escaped on your face, the rest moved behind you with each turn and twist you made against the backdrop of the cotton candy clouds.

Mark wasn't exactly super-duper careful about who saw him flying but he also wasn't flying around in circles with his dad in the backyard. Anyone could've seen but you didn't care. Infact, you laughed as your mother sprayed you in the face with water and you sprayed her back in response. Flying around care free without an ounce of shame or fear for doing something so natural to you. And for a split second he felt a hint of jealousy. You probably weren't from a race of blood thirsty killers.

As your mother and father grew tired, they floated gently back to the ground, and you made your way to the Earth. But not before you glanced his way. Glowing green eyes glanced into his bedroom window, and you smiled curtly before you landed on your feet and skipped inside with your mother and father gleefully chatting about dinner.

That was the first time Mark saw the good in being an alien in a while. He saw the good in flying about carefree, in feeling no shame about being what he is.

The next time he saw you, it was ringing his front doorbell.

It was a relatively quiet day. Mark went for a run, came home, took a nap, even had time to take a shit. His mother called him to get the door from where she was in the house, then he made his way down the steps.

Opening the door, he saw you. You, floating just a bit off the ground with your car keys in hand. You didn't know him. How would you feel if you knew? Knew he was a Viltrumite, knew what atrocities his "people" had committed. Of course you knew, if you were from space. Had they destroyed your home, that's why you came to Earth? Had-

"Hi! Driveway-uh. Your car..." You searched for the next words, still clearly attempting to get a grasp on English. Glancing out behind you, he looked. His mom accidentally blocked you into the driveway.

"Your car is...blocking? Blocking. My car." Despite how you struggled to get the words out, you still beamed with pride at how you were able to get the words out.

"Oh...sorry." He smiled at you, your dark hair made you look like a cherub. No longer in twist but instead manipulated into curls that framed your face and highlighted your beauty. By Earth and space features you were no doubt beautiful.

Awkward silence settled in between you two and you stopped smiling. Tilting your head you floated closer to him and before he knew it your hand was on his shoulder.

"You are sad?" His first instinct was to lie. It was to say no but... What could be the harm in being honest anyways?

"...Just a bit." Looking down at the ground he shrugged and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

"Why?" What, was your planet just filled with nosy Nancy's? But something in his heart pulled. You were from space. You didn't understand the intricacies of humans keeping to themselves yet. And maybe he just needed a listening ear.

"My dad. He did-...he died."

"You lie?"

"What?"

Just then, a woman down the street called your name, followed by speech in a different language. Anyone else would assume it was just a different language from Earth, but Mark knew better. It was of an entirely different language from an entirely different planet. Turning your head, you looked back to your house.

"Goodbye! Oh," You pointed behind you at the driveway and held up your keys. Should you even be driving on Earth?

"Car." You emphasized, shaking at your keys.

"I'll move it." He responded, finishing the thought for you. You smiled, dipped your head like a nod and flew off back to your house.

'You lie?' Your voice replayed in his head. There was no malice, no judging. You just knew. He lied. Someone knew he lied. And as uneasy as it should've made him feel, instead little waves of relief overtook him.

Before long, your English had improved by heaps and bounds. You were fully integrated into human society it seemed, except for your same blunt forward communication but it did little to stop you. For someone so new to Earth, you got hang of a social life pretty easy. Once you started wearing the dark brown contacts gifted to you by your aunt (who Mark later learned had moved to Earth years earlier) and stopped fighting your parents about them every day they finally let you masquerade as a normal girl from Earth.

By your second week at school, you were all anyone talked about. Well, you and...you. More specifically the appearance of the new hero SuperNova. Who was quickly taking over as Chicago's favorite alien superhero.

'Did you see her boots?'

'I need SuperNova to drop her curl routine.'

'She's cute or whatever.'

Flooded the hallways. Unlike most gossip though you flooded his brain. He typically didn't mind gossip. His parents taught him well enough to mind the business that pays him, but you were stuck in his brain. It didn't help that you two were teamed up together so often. And it didn't help that you and Eve were superhero besties. Or that you lived next door to one another, or that your mom and his mom were fast growing friends.

You were a great friend too. You understood him, but part of him was...uncomfortable. You seemed to just know. Everything in his brain, the tight knot of fears and anxieties in his stomach, you were even able to see the weight on his heart. And it made him so uncomfortable that you were more in touch with his feelings than he was.

So, he took to avoiding having actual conversations with you. Maybe not on purpose, perhaps on purpose he isn't fully sure. He knew virtually nothing about you personally. Not your likes, dislikes, foods you avoid and music you loved. Because if he knew, you'd be in his heart too. Along with all those icky feelings that cover him like a wet blanket you would be trapped in his heart. Those types of conversations could only lead to a deeper connection. A deeper friendship and some days Mark knew himself he would need more than that. It wasn't helpful that you were always stuck in his head, he didn't need you in his heart and soul too.

But you knew. Because you always knew. And your people do not believe in hiding feelings.

"Mark?" It was night, you two were flying home after a disturbance downtown.

"Hm?"

"You are scared that if we become closer friends, your true feelings will overtake you. You do not want to let anyone in because of the inherit shame you feel for who you are from and what you are. You are scared because you cannot hide from me. We do not have to be friends if I make you uncomfortable." With such flippancy you read him. Like it didn't matter, like you didn't unravel him with the efficiency of a well-trained therapist.

He literally felt sick. His palms began to sweat under his costume, and chills ran through his entire body. His stomach grumbled and felt like he swallowed a block of ice that was just sitting in his gut. His nervous system didn't know the difference between dealing with his emotions or being held at gunpoint. You kept flying home until you noticed he stopped behind you.

You stopped and slowly floated back to him. Eyes glowing, empty of hurt or malice but there was an underlying kindness. He had rejected you. He rejected getting to know you the way everyone else had, he rejected your friendship because he was afraid. But your eyes were like a door left open. You hadn't shut that door. It was still open for him; all he had to do was open it the rest of the way.

What, did you think you were saving him? That he was helplessly drowning in his own unnecessary shame that he's refusing to deal with while battling his growing crush on you? That he needed saving? Who did you think you were?

"You are fighting yourself. I bear no intention of 'bettering' you. I am saying what I have observed."

...Fuck, could you just get out of his head for two seconds so he could think? You totally didn't just provide him clarity. Definitely not. So why was he flying in the air completely stiff without saying a word?

"I'm hungry. I'm going to go home and eat. We do not have to be friends Mark. The choice is yours. If you are not comfortable with your feelings, then it must be frustrating for someone to try and help you understand before you are ready." You said, patting him lightly on the shoulder before flying away.

Leaving him alone to float over the city while he tried to shove his stupid feelings back down his throat. He wanted to throw them up. To scream out his frustrations and fears and regrets, and how he thinks you're really nice and smart and fun. But he couldn't. And he still couldn't stop thinking about you either.

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How he found himself at your bedroom window he doesn't know. He was in bed one moment, sneaking a glass of wine the next, then floating outside your window watching you slide open the glass and sit on the roof.

Then he was sitting next you on the roof. You were in pajamas, a matching bonnet corresponded with your fluffy robe and was the same color as your pajamas and bed slippers. He sat with you, knees pulled to his chest. The wind ghosted over his exposed feet. Somehow, he felt as if his heart was about to be as naked as his feet considering he didn't put on socks before he flew out of his window like a man possessed.

When would Mark Grayson ever hide from a girl he liked? Not that he only saw you as that. But here you were, kind and accepting. And he was fighting that and holding some fucked up resentment for you in his heart just a bit because he couldn't open up to someone. Not again.

Two aliens sat on the roof of a suburban home on Earth, looking up at the void of space. You were probably looking towards your home planet. Mark was looking for the courage to be honest. Because this wasn't just about you. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed to open up to someone. Holding everything in was raising his blood pressure.

You didn't push him to speak. You were just happy he was there, you would've been happy without him. Why did it ease him just a bit to know that you could go on without him? Why was it so nice to not feel like someone is leaning on you with everything they have? More silence until Mark found the courage in one shiny star.

"My dad was actually on Earth in order to conquer it for the Viltrum empire. My entire life I thought Viltrumites were good. But the more I learn, the more I hear about the crimes. The planets they've fucked up, the lives they've destroyed. My dad never even cared about my mom. Since he left it's been up to me to defend Earth. I'm trying to balance everything, and I'm all Earth has left against Viltrum. He destroyed Chicago using my face, and he murdered the Guardians of the Globe, he lied for 20+ years to the entire planet, he tried to get me to join him and I'm just scared that Earth will see me as an extension of him but I'm human and I'm not like him at all I promise, Earth is my home and I just want to keep people safe and I'm not like the other Viltrumites-"

Soft hands covered his. While he talked, he began to spiral and didn't even realize how quickly he was drowning in his own thoughts. Didn't even realize that he was rambling so fast that he hadn't been speaking in sentences but just one long chain of thoughts. You interrupted the long rambling and saved him from sinking down into a dark place in his mind.

"I know."

"What?"

"My planet is not on your peoples list of planets to conquer. It is not possible Mark. We are not scared of Viltrum, we have never hidden or cowered before Viltrum. Our people are long standing enemies by Viltrum's choosing. You do not have to worry about me judging you for what you are. You do not have to explain you are different. I know you are different. If it will ease you, you can continue. But I want to know Mark. Not who you are not."

You did it again. You just swept him clean off his feet also basically just told him Viltrumites weren't shit to you. As if they were so insignificant to your people that Mark being one didn't even matter. Then again there always was a bigger fish.

"How come you aren't ashamed?" It was a genuine question. Mark carries the shame of being a Viltrumite every day that he prefers to keep it to himself. Leaning back on your arms you let out a chuckle and Mark buried his face in his arms that still rested on his knees.

"I have nothing to feel shame for. No matter my race, no matter how people view my species, I am me. I can't change that. I am who I am, I came from where I come from. I know me. And there is beauty in what I am."

A man and woman walked past kissing and giggling while a little girl hopped in front of them playing imaginary hopscotch, and a dog yipped excitedly between them.

You peered over the edge and motioned for Mark to come with you. Together two aliens watched three humans, and a dog partake in what to them was a small unimportant moment, but that little girl may remember this until she dies. In a thousand years would Mark even remember this conversation?

"Humans have such beautiful but short lives. And to them it isn't short, but to us it is. But we are all the same. I like TV, humans like TV. I like living, they like living. I make the most of my life, they make the most of theirs. Do they have time to spend worrying about what those before them of done? Or do they instead live for each day, focusing on what they can do with themselves now? Or do they focus on what they can do with their future knowing they cannot change the past?" Who told you to be so smart.

"A lot of us worry about the past."

"And if that is how you chose to live your lives then that is beautiful! But you do not have to let what other Viltrumites have done define you. You cannot change the past. But you can take steps to better your future. You can take steps to better your people. Or instead, better yourself but you are Mark. You are an...," You search for the word, eyes glancing up to the sky while you searched your brain

"individual! You are an individual and can make whatever choice you want. You can be the Viltrumite who changes things, or you can just be you. But you will be Mark for the next thousands of years you will be living. You do not want to carry shame for something you cannot change." It was like you just flipped on a light switch in his brain. Mark was ashamed over something he could not change. It would take time to go away but still. It can go away. That ugly feeling in his heart was finally able to go away and stop haunting him.

You pulled a blanket out from your bedroom window and tossed it over the two of you after a brush of wind ghosted you two. His feet no longer cold, and you covered his heart and eased his mind like the blanket.

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Having an alien girlfriend was a bit difficult. Mark has been attempting to adjust being open about his feelings, while he taught you the value of allowing him and others the luxury of not needing to talk through every feeling that comes through their heads.

After a few months though, something switched. And while Mark Grayson was flawed, he did know how to be a good boyfriend. But you had made things so easy by making it very clear how you felt at all times.

He knew when you were happy, when you were sad, angry, hungry, horny. You usually just told him. But today you flew into Guardians HQ with a proverbial cloud hovering over you and plopped down beside him with an uncharacteristic scowl. Your eyes were glowing so bright from whatever ailed you that it was like a spotlight beaming from your head, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what was wrong.

Where you hungry? Tired? A headache? Were you perhaps coming down with something? Could you even get sick? Could he even get sick?

When five minutes passed without you even uttering a word to him, instead just scrolling on your phone and quickly sliding past certain post that seemed to increase your foul mood he realized it was probably best to ask.

"Baby?"

"Hm."

Ouch. Had you ever once scowled at him so hard? You've growled at him before; you've even bit him once on your cycle (or your version of it) but you've never made such a face at him. His pride was happy it was just the two of you in HQ after you both returned from separate missions.

You turned away from him on the couch you were seated on and hugged your knees closer to your chest.

"Are you mad at me?" Slowly he put a hand on your balled up form only for it to be shrugged off. You were so pissed you didn't even want him touching you.

More silence. He heard you shuffle then you straightened out and floated off of the couch. His eyes followed you upwards towards the sky. Hands on your hips, your eyes glowing down at him with tears brimming in your eyes.

"Why did you not tell me you wanted to break up?"

"...I don't want to break up!" The moment it sunk in Mark was floating in the air infront of you. You refused to meet his gaze, arms crossed and turning away from him. You went backwards in an attempt to create distance and Mark found himself floating forwards in an attempt to lessen the distance between you two.

"What's going on? Baby?" His nervous system couldn't tell the difference between you saying that and being shot. The air felt cold and heavy and the nerves in his stomach made him have to shit. You were still refusing to look at him as his hands searched for you while you dodged.

"You do not care about me. You do not care about us."

"Of course I care about you. Of course I care about us!"

"You have a very amusing way of showing it." You shoved him back, as if you just noticed how close he had gotten to you despite your avoidance. A streak of light remained as you flew out of one of the open windows. Dammit, why did they always leave windows open for their flying heroes? Although it was helpful Mark, didn't need it when his girlfriend was talking about breaking up with him and using those open windows to escape him.

By the time he flew out of the window to see if he could convince you to talk about this, you were long gone. The telltale streak of color the remains when you fly was even gone from the sky.

By the time he got home, and talked to his mom it was well past dinner time. Usually, you'd be heading home to eat with your family like you always do on a weeknight. Or you'd be flying home together like you often do late at night because that's when evil seems to emerge. Instead, there was no you.

You weren't cuddled beside him; you weren't conversing with him about the first season of Seance Dog that he was trying not to spoil for you, you two weren't holding hands in a comfortable silence, you weren't there for him to playfully tease or for him to excitedly ramble at.

Once again, he found himself at your window. Well actually your front door. Your window was locked, curtains drawn. A message, telling him to piss off, a saying you enjoyed since you learned it. He thinks your love of swearing is adorable, no matter how many times you say 'motherfucker' in a day. But he couldn't just let you think he didn't care. If he didn't care, he'd be at home fast asleep.

He settled for the old fashioned way. He rang your doorbell and waited with baited breath for someone to open the door. Instead, your mother opened the door and stood towering over Mark. Her eyes glowed nowhere near as intense as yours did hours ago. The glowing eyeballs raked him over, as distaste settled over her features.

"Goodnight, I'm sorry to bother you so late but is-"

"My child does not cry easily."

"Uh, excuse me?"

"My child, was the top warrior in her school. She is ranked across the planet for her skills, she could've become the next leader of our entire planet. She is smart. She is kind, she makes good choices. Most of all she is strong. We left our home planet, she had to start the journey to living amongst humans against her will. Not once did she break. She does not cry easily."

Silence as her eyes began to glow a more intense color.

"You made my child cry." Then the door shut. But for a moment, he saw you. Laying on the couch, your father patted your hooded head. Covered in Mark's hoodie that he gifted you and you hugged yourself close.

He stood there on your porch; through the door he heard your parents comforting you in your own language and he recognized the few words you taught him.

'Mama, what do I do?'

Fuck, what did he even do?

He never realized how much he would miss your honesty. Mark knew it was something he loved about you, but sometimes it could be a bit difficult. You were always in his head. You just always knew and after months of dating, he was still a bit freaked out. You knew him better than he knew himself.

After a year-

The porch was dark, Mark had been in the dark all day about what had you so enraged with him. But finally the light turned on in his brain and he never felt so stupid. A wind blew over him, like the truth that revealed itself to him.

Today had been a year since you two had gotten together. Lifting off, he made his way to his own roof and planted his bottom firmly on the spot he so often sat on. And he thought back over the year.

You helped him sort himself out for a year. You planned your six month anniversary. You planned his birthday party. You reminded him when Valentine's Day was approaching. You helped him plan a birthday party for his mother. You made him dinner the best you could when you got the hang of Earth cooking. You saved him from countless battles, you encouraged him to keep his head up. Even after a devastating loss, you encouraged him to keep his head up. He couldn't remember one day.

You even told him it would be nice if he planned something for once. And he couldn't remember one day.

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His mom tore him a new one, but it was nothing compared to you. You became more like an Earth girl with each passing day, evident by how you'd been giving him the cold shoulder for four days now. Even gossip articles picked up on it.

'Invincible and SuperNova split?'

'SuperNova snubs Invincible after battle!'

Instagram was clowning him. Evident by the comments William was reading out loud to him as they sat in the car with Amber and Eve during lunch. Also, the meme going around of him edited as Art the Clown. They dubbed him 'Invinciclown"

"Oh man this ones funny, 'bro fumbled a baddie', 'SUPERNOVA ONE CHANCE PLEASE!!!', 'Omniman knocked the game out bro', 'The fumble needs to be studied'. Lesbians have also never been happier since you're out of the picture."

"Honestly the entire LGBT community has been praying for your breakup." Amber chimed from the back, scrolling through edits on her phone.

"Look at this."

"NO WAY SOMEONE MADE A BREAKUP EDIT!" Eve yelled, hands dramatically on her head. The internet decided it was over already.

"We aren't broken up. I'm not out of any picture." Mark sulked, head pressed against the glass.

"What's it like being emo and delusional?" Eve snickered, leaning back.

"That's not hot Mark." William added, making dramatic gestures with his hands.

"You're not Paris Hilton. And we aren't broken up. She's mad at me."

"Okay but why is she mad at you? She's been ducking you for almost a week now. She doesn't even duck fades and she's avoiding you." Always sympathetic Eve brought reason back to the car.

"...I forgot our one year anniversary."

....

"The fumble really does need to be studied."

"One year...yeah man she needs to break up with you, that's ghetto as hell."

"I tried saying sorry, but she doesn't want to talk to me! She fought a Kaiju and Doc Seismic on her own before she chose to speak to me. She almost got eaten and literally chose to handle that before talking to me."

"Well, she's tired of spelling everything out for you. What have you actually planned for her that's important? Answer quickly." Amber responded. When was her foot not on Mark's neck?

He couldn't even answer slowly because you typically spell everything out for him.

"Okay but what do I do?"

"Give up?" Eve suggested.

"Accept defeat?" William offered.

"Die because of how bad you dropped the bag?" Amber added her advice.

"Guys I love this girl; can we be serious?" The words came from the depths of his heart. Then silence filled the car again.

"YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HER?"

He was in love with you. He was in love with you and was sitting in a car with his friends while you, the woman he loves, was somewhere. You weren't with him at lunch because he pissed you off so bad you didn't even want to try and communicate.

"I gotta go."

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"Why are you in my bedroom?" You asked, rolling over in your bed and eyeing the man sitting on your bed.

"You haven't been talking to me." Mark figured out pretty quickly where you were when you didn't return back to school. He spent the rest of lunch looking all over the city for you, saw you didn't show up to your trigonometry class and figured you just blew off the rest of the school day. So, he did the only thing his crazy and stupid heart could think of. Because Mark is crazy over you. Even though it took disgustingly long for him to lock in and act like it.

You pulled your covers back up to your chest and rolled back onto your side.

"I do not need to talk to you. You are my ex boyfriend. I do not need to be friends with my ex boyfriend." Did you just stab him and twist the knife? But he had to push on. Because this was not about him. This wasn't about making him feel better, it was time Mark showed you how much he cared.

It was time to be brave, but this was scarier than any battle he'd ever been in.

"...I'm sorry I forgot our anniversary."

"I am sorry that you think that means anything to me four days later."

Okay you were not having it with him.

"You don't want to be with me anymore?"

You tossed the blanket over and sat up. You looked at him and the back of his brain wondered how long you'd been home. You were in a fitted tank top, pajama pants, makeup gone, contacts removed, and your hair gently placed under your bonnet.

"I want to be with someone who cares for me. You do not want to be with me. You have shown me that you do not care for me the way I care for you. I have my struggles. I have my burdens. I have carried your burdens and mine for the past year. I do not put these on you. I ask that you take care of me the way I attempt to take care of you. I asked one thing of you Mark Grayson. You did not do the one thing I asked of you, Mark Grayson." Then you flopped back down on the sheets as if holding eye contact with him was killing you. He cracked, eyes watering and voice cracking.

"I'm sorry. I am sorry baby, I am. I know you needed someone, and I am that someone for you. I didn't mean to let you down. I was so used to you knowing everything already that I forgot that everyone needs someone. And I need you, I can't live without you." He drew closer to you. Mark was absolutely begging. Because you taught him better than to hide his feelings and hiding them right now would only make things worse.

"Things shouldn't come to this extreme for me to realize that and I'm sorry. I...I love you." And with that you shot straight up in the bed. You were staring at him with curious eyes.

"You...love me?"

Mark swallowed thickly, and he blinked away tears. He took his hands in yours, ignoring the way you raised your eyebrow. You didn't yank your hands away, a good sign?

"I love you. I love you. Not just what you do for me, not just how you look. I love you." He breathed. Your eyes filled with tears, and Mark brung his forehead to yours. His heartbeat slowed; the world stopped spinning for a moment. Your heartbeat matched his.

"It is against my customs to forgive you. On my planet, I would be expected to leave you and never look back. You have made a grave error, you have failed to value you me the way I should’ve been all along.”

He swallowed thickly, eyes trained on his hands holding yours.

"But I am not on my planet. And you are sorry. I see your heart, you intend to improve. And I love you. So, against everything I know, I forgive you Mark." It came out in a whisper.

"You forgive me?" His voice was hoarse, from the crying and disbelief.

"I forgive you." Eyes finally met and he saw tears running down your cheeks.

"You love me?" Your lips drew closer to his and he found his knees weakening.

"I love you."

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