#Tips for a Smooth Moving Experience

[pradeeprai12]

The Ultimate Guide to Hiring Packers and Movers in Greater Noida

Moving to a new home or office can be both exciting and overwhelming. One of the critical aspects of a successful move is selecting the right packers and movers. In Greater Noida, where the logistics landscape is competitive, finding the best service providers requires careful consideration. This comprehensive guide will help you navigate the process of hiring reliable packers and movers in…

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

HYENA JOHNNY

sfw + nsfw. rut. knotting. premature ejaculation. service top!johnny (?)

you meet johnny at a bar.

the place is old but well-kept, a place that’s obviously seen its share of rowdy nights and heavy pours but still holds its charm. dark wood, polished by time and restless hands, stretches beneath your fingertips. liquor bottles line the shelves behind the counter.

the air hums— conversation rising and falling in waves, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter, the sharp clink of glasses meeting in messy toasts. the dim lighting catches on old brass fixtures, scuffs on the floor telling stories of countless nights just like this one.

and behind the bar, johnny.

he moves like he owns the place, because, clearly, he does. he reaches for bottles without looking, flicks open the tap with a smooth twist of his wrist. the other bartenders glance his way for cues. it’s plain that johnny doesn’t just work here. he runs the show.

and it's that experience that has him spotting you immediately.

“what’ll it be, sweetheart?” the words roll off his tongue, practiced but not indifferent.

"a mocktail.”

johnny pauses, processing, then snorts. “that’s tragic. you say that like you mean it.”

"i do."

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, the motion loose. “waste of a perfectly good night, that.”

"i’m the designated driver," you shoot back, somehow feeling like you have to defend yourself, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

your friends are deep in it— half-dancing, half-stumbling, belting lyrics to a song that isn’t playing. one of them throws their arms around another’s neck, nearly taking them both down in the process

johnny follows your gaze, lets out a low whistle. “ah. the shepherd of the drunk.” his tail sways behind him, amused. “a noble role.”

"someone has to get them home alive."

he drums his fingers against the bar, eyes flicking between you and the mess unfolding on the dance floor. “you sure you don’t wanna let natural selection do its thing?”

you huff a laugh, shaking your head. "tempting. but i’d rather not explain to their mothers why they woke up in a hedge."

he grins. “fair enough. guess that means you get a drink that doesn’t kick back.” he rolls his shoulders before reaching for bottles. “what’s the call, then? fruity? sour?”

"surprise me."

johnny hums, tilting his head, eyes narrowing slightly like he’s sizing you up. “dangerous words,” but he’s already moving, rolling up his sleeves as he reaches for a shaker. “hope you like a bit of bite.”

"that a threat?"

“nah,” he says. “just a promise.”

you watch him work.

his hands move fast, sure, an efficiency that only comes with time and muscle memory. bottles tip, liquid pours in smooth arcs, ice clatters against the tin before he seals it with a sharp tap. he doesn’t fumble, doesn’t second-guess— he moves with a rhythm stitched into his bones.

and he’s a hyena. no mistaking it.

the broad grin, all sharp teeth. the spots dusting his forearms, darker markings trailing up his skin where his sleeves are shoved back. but more than that, it’s how he carries himself— as if he was built to be here, to take up space without hesitation.

he shakes the tin with quick jerks, wrists rolling, muscles shifting under skin.

“so,” he starts, barely looking up as he strains the drink into a glass, “you always this responsible, or is this a special occasion?”

"i like knowing i’ll wake up in my own bed."

he hums, dropping a garnish into the glass with a flick of his fingers. “can’t argue with that.” then he slides the drink toward you, tapping the rim lightly with one claw. “still. shame to waste a night like this on sobriety.”

you lift the glass, taking a slow sip. citrus, something tart, something fizzy at the edges, a hint of spice lingering at the back of your tongue.

"not bad," you admit.

johnny leans in slightly, bracing his forearms against the bar, grin widening. “’course it’s not. you think i’d serve you shite?”

"i've known you for all five minutes. forgive me if i didn’t know what to expect."

he chuckles, head tilting, ears flicking forward. “stick around, sweetheart. i’ll raise those expectations in no time.”

"confident, aren’t you?"

“damn right.” his eyes flick over you. “why? that a problem?”

"just wondering if it ever gets you in trouble."

his grin turns wolfish— if a hyena could pull off wolfish. “constantly.”

you don’t take him home that night. not because you don’t want to— because you do, god, you do— but because you’ve got a job to do.

instead, you spend the next hour wrangling your friends, guiding them into overpriced rideshares, confiscating a stolen pint glass, and prying one of them away from a very ill-advised conversation with a married senior executive.

by the time you finally collapse into bed, your jacket still smells like whiskey and citrus, your ears still ringing with laughter.

you tell yourself you won’t think about the bartender with the easy grin and the voice that curled around your name like it belonged to him.

you tell yourself a lot of things.

the work gala arrives like an obligation dressed as an opportunity. the invitation promised networking, an open bar, and a celebration of months of labor.

but you don’t want to go.

you doubt anyone does, but it’s not really a choice. the project your team has spent months sweating over is finally seeing the light of day, and the higher-ups need their captive audience. they need applause, nods of approval, praise whispered over crystal flutes of overpriced champagne.

so you go.

you let yourself be swept inside, past sleek decor and halfhearted compliments, past handshakes that mean nothing and conversations that mean even less. the champagne is crisp and the hors d'oeuvres bite-sized and forgettable.

the work gala is everything you expected.

the kind of event that looks dazzling in photos but feels hollow in person. the chandeliers glisten, the glasses are always full, and the music hums soft and unintrusive, a backdrop for corporate egos to stretch their legs. it’s all smiles that don’t reach the eyes, laughter that’s a beat too polished, and conversations that carry the distinct flavor of ambition disguised as small talk.

the dress helps, if anything. a deep color, clean lines, the kind that turns a glance into a second look. a little armor against the monotony of handshakes and careful smiles.

you last about ten minutes before you seek out the bar.

and that’s when you see him.

johnny.

standing behind the counter like he owns the place, despite the fact that he very much does not.

his sleeves are pushed up, forearms bared, and his tie is hanging loose like it barely survived a halfhearted attempt at professionalism. he looks like someone who should be on the other side of the bar, drink in hand, making people laugh too loud. but he’s here, somehow, and he’s already watching you.

he leans into the counter, the soft golden glow of the pendant lights casting sharp shadows across his grin— and it looks suspiciously like he’s been waiting for you to notice him.

and of course, you do. how could you not?

johnny isn’t just attractive.

that would be too simple. attraction is easy, common. but johnny is something else. something loud and impossible to ignore, the kind of presence that bends a room around him, that demands attention without asking for it.

you stop short, fingers tightening around the stem of your glass. “johnny?”

he grins. “last i checked.”

your eyes flick down to the neatly pressed vest, the gleaming bar, the expensive bottles lined up in perfect order.

then back to him.

“what the hell are you doing here?”

johnny reaches for a glass, inspecting it against the light before setting it down with a soft clink. “servin’ drinks, apparently.”

your brow lifts. “you own a pub.”

“that i do.”

“so why are you working here?”

“money’s good.” he shrugs, as if that’s a reason.

you give him a look. “you could’ve sent someone else.”

his smirk twitches into a grin. “could’ve.”

you narrow your eyes. “but?”

johnny leans in slightly, resting his forearms on the bar. “but then i wouldn’t have run into you, would i?”

heat pricks the back of your neck. “you expect me to believe you took this job on the off chance i’d be here?”

“nah,” he says easily, reaching for a bottle, twisting off the cap with practiced ease. “but it’s a hell of a nice surprise.”

you exhale, shaking your head. “unbelievable.”

“what’s unbelievable is that you’re still holdin’ that same drink,” he says, nodding toward the half-full glass in your hand. “startin’ to think you don’t trust me.”

“i barely trust this event,” you say dryly. “let alone the bar staff.”

johnny places a hand over his heart, mock-wounded. “cut me deep, sweetheart.”

you roll your eyes, setting your drink down. “fine. impress me.”

he moves to prepare your drink and soon enough a drink slides across the bar. he taps the rim lightly with one finger. a challenge.

his grin turns sharp, all teeth. “dangerous thing to ask.”

you take a sip.

pause.

lick the taste from your lips.

his smirk lingers, watching. waiting.

“…damn it.” you exhale. “that’s actually good.”

johnny laughs, pleased. “you plannin’ on apologizing for that remark earlier?”

your pulse jumps.

“and how exactly would i do that?”

he tilts his head, considering. “stick around. drink somethin’ strong. keep lookin’ at me like that.”

and just like that, you’re in trouble.

you don’t mean to get drunk. you came here to be seen, to endure, to let your boss soak up the credit for your work while you nod along. but then johnny makes you a drink, and when you finish it too fast, he makes you another.

responsibility starts as a whisper.

drink slower. be professional. don’t plant yourself at the bar all night.

then he tilts his head just so, watching you like you’re a puzzle he intends to solve and the whisper fades.

you order another.

somewhere around your third drink, your laughter turns ease. johnny’s grin mirrors it, fingers working effortlessly over glass and steel as he keeps the drinks flowing.

fourth drink, you tell him he has unfairly nice hands. he nearly spills a cocktail laughing.

five drinks in, you go for a napkin, miss entirely, and send a row of garnishes tumbling. staring down at the mess, you seriously debate the logistics of picking them up without falling under the bar.

johnny exhales, tossing a rag over his shoulder. "i think that means you’re cut off, sweetheart."

"you think a lot of things," you mutter, blinking up at him, heavy-lidded and unbothered.

his laughter softens, turns fond. "and i’m usually right."

you pout at him until you sway a little too much, and the world tilts just slightly before a hand reaches over the bar to steady you.

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head, muttering half-amused, half-exasperated, "jesus."

for a moment, johnny considers just throwing you over his shoulder and dealing with the consequences later. he’s a hyena, after all, and hyenas take care of their own. you’re his, in some loose, nebulous way, and it wouldn’t be difficult to make sure you got to a home safe. yours or not.

but even in your current state, he figures you wouldn’t be thrilled about waking up in a stranger’s bed with no memory of how you got there.

so, he does the next best thing.

he steals your phone.

you don’t even notice, too busy playing with the condensation on your glass, and he sighs as he tilts the screen toward your face.

the lock screen slides open instantly.

"oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, shaking his head. "you’re makin’ this too easy."

he scrolls through your messages, scanning over names he doesn’t recognize until he finds a group chat that looks promising. lots of emojis. lots of inside jokes. someone had typed in all caps at some point about a brunch reservation, so yeah— this’ll do.

he thumbs out a message: “your friend is very drunk. come get them before she pukes over my bar.” and attaches the location.

and then, because he can, because he wants to, and because some part of him already knows he’ll be seeing you again, he puts his number in your contacts, too.

you wake up to a headache and a mistake.

the headache, at least, makes sense. it splits through your skull the second you shift, a dull, relentless throb pulsing behind your eyes, pressing into the backs of your sockets like a vice tightening around your brain. your mouth is dry, tongue thick with the stale aftertaste of liquor, and your body feels like dead weight, limbs tangled in sheets that are too warm, too heavy. everything is stiff— your neck, your shoulders, your stomach twisting in protest as the memories of last night flicker back in fragments. a bar. dark wood. golden light. laughter that lingered low in your chest, warm and sweet, and—

him.

your stomach flips before your brain can even process why.

you groan, rolling onto your side, pushing your face into the pillow to block out the morning. you want to sleep, to bury yourself beneath the covers and pretend none of it happened— whatever it is. but your body betrays you, instincts dragging your arm across the mattress, fumbling blindly for your phone where it must’ve slipped from your hand sometime in the night.

your fingers brush cool metal. you blink blearily at the screen.

the glow cuts through the dimness of your room, soft and insistent, illuminating the single notification waiting for you.

a new contact.

johnny ;)

your stomach twists harder.

you blink at it.

once.

twice.

the emoji taunts you, cocky even in pixels, a playful little wink that makes something hot curl at the base of your spine. the name itself is bad enough— too much of a reminder of how his mouth quirked up when he poured your drink, and the warmth of his fingers when brushed against yours as he slid it across the bar.

your pulse ticks up. you hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, torn between the impulse to check and the ridiculous urge to just not know.

but you already know you’re going to look.

you swipe, and the screen shifts.

one unread message.

johnny: still alive, sweetheart?

your first instinct is to throw the phone across the room. your second is to type something back. something quick, something effortless, something that won’t make it obvious that your pulse just stuttered in your throat.

you fail spectacularly.

you: barely. might never recover.

his response is immediate, and it makes you wonder if he was already waiting.

johnny: tragic. if i’d known, i would’ve given you a proper sendoff

heat prickles at the back of your neck. you stare at the message for a second too long, then lock your phone and press it flat against your chest as if that might do something about the way your heart is suddenly working overtime.

and just like that, it starts. small things, at first. quick, snappy messages.

johnny: remind me to never let you near tequila again. i don’t think you’d survive round two.

you: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t win.

johnny: bold of YOU to assume you won anything last night. you begged me for water.

you: lies. slander. i demand proof.

johnny: aye, sweetheart, i’d send the security footage, but i think the sight of you poutin’ at me over a glass of water might be too much for your fragile ego.

you don’t have a response for that. you lock your phone, toss it onto your bed, and roll onto your stomach, groaning into your pillow.

but the messages keep coming.

johnny: how’s the hangover? or should i start gettin’ that funeral procession in order?

you: surprisingly not dead.

johnny: pity. i would’ve made a great eulogy.

it’s easy, too easy.

he starts asking about your day. you start telling him.

johnny: how’d the deadline go? survived it?

you: took three cups of coffee and some questionable life choices, but it’s done

johnny: questionable life choices, huh? do i even want to ask?

you: if you must know, i impulse bought a croissant the size of my head. no regrets

johnny: i admire the dedication. although i’d be more impressed if you could finish it.

you: challenge accepted

he keeps talking to you. keeps pulling you in, coaxing conversation out of you and somehow it all feels natural, effortless.

he makes fun of the salad you regret ordering for lunch.

you: i don’t know what i expected. it’s lettuce.

johnny: truly a tragic meal. if you die from boredom, i promise i’ll give a heartfelt speech at the funeral.

you: that’s the second time you’ve threatened to monologue at my funeral. should i be worried?

johnny: just bein’ prepared, sweetheart. never know when tragedy might strike.

he complains about a difficult customer but immediately follows up with “not that i'm whinin'. boss can’t be seen whinin’."

the more he texts, the worse it gets.

you catch yourself checking your phone too often, waiting for his name to light up your screen. you start carrying your charger everywhere, the battery never allowed to dip low, just in case. when he texts, you answer too fast. when he doesn’t, you fight the stupid urge to stare at your phone, to wonder if he’s busy, to think about what his hands might be doing instead.

somewhere along the way, the teasing shifts into something else. something a little slower.

johnny: long day?

you: feels like it

johnny: go easy on yourself, sweetheart. tomorrow’s just gonna show up and make a mess of things all over again.

your fingers hover over the keyboard. something about it makes you pause, makes your stomach do that stupid little thing where it twists up in knots.

you: that’s bleak

johnny: nah. just means there’s always another chance to make somethin’ good out of it.

you don’t have a response for that either.

turns out you don't need one because then he follows it up with a—

johnny: what are you doin’ friday?

your stomach flips.

you: depends. why?

this time, the response doesn’t come immediately.

you watch the typing bubble appear. disappear. reappear.

johnny: takin’ you out. that’s why.

your breath catches. your hands hesitate over the keyboard, mind racing, running in circles. you type something and delete it. type again. delete. finally, you settle on—

you: at your pub?

his reply is fast.

johnny: christ, no. my staff would never let me leave alive.

you: fair point. so where, then?

johnny: you’ll see ;)

you are, without a doubt, in trouble.

johnny is ready. more than ready. too ready, if you ask his staff.

he’s been buzzing since you said yes, practically vibrating through the walls of his pub, too restless to stand still. his staff have been suffering through it for days— watching him plan the date down to the minute, pick out the restaurant, polish his shoes, practice his stories in the backroom mirror with an alarming level of dedication.

“you’re a grown man,” gaz mutters at one point, rubbing his temples as johnny rehearses a joke for the fifth time. “not a schoolboy with his first crush.”

he’s taken people out before, sure, but this— this is different. his fingers twitch when he thinks about it. his pulse kicks like it’s trying to outrun him. he shoves it all down, tells himself to act normal, be normal, but his body betrays him at every turn.

and then, just as he reaches your door, just as he lifts his fist to knock—

his rut slams into him like a sledgehammer.

hyena ruts are brutal.

unlike wolves or big cats, they don’t creep in slow, don’t build over days like a fire waiting for kindling. no, hyenas go from zero to hundred in the space of a breath— one second fine, the next wrecked by an all-consuming need, by instincts that don’t care for reason or timing.

johnny staggers, barely catching himself before he hits the wall, his shoulder slamming into brick with a dull, shuddering thud. his claws scrape at his own arms, blunt nails dragging hard enough to leave welts beneath his fur, but it doesn’t help, nothing fucking helps. his body isn’t listening. his breath stutters, fast and uneven, catching in his throat like he’s choking on something thick and hot. sweat beads at his temples, slicks the back of his neck, soaks into his shirt despite the night air.

his stomach knots, muscles pulling tight, something twisting low in his gut like a wire wound too far. his mouth hangs open, his tongue thick, saliva pooling behind his teeth like his body is preparing for a bite, for a kill. his canines throb, the dull ache settling deep in his jaw, instincts curling sharp beneath his ribs, thick and hungry and dangerous.

and fuck. fuck, he’s so hard he can’t breathe.

his cock strains against his trousers, the fabric pulled taut over the thick, aching line of it, every throb so deep it rattles in his bones. he shifts, trying to ease it, trying to will it down, but the movement just grinds the swollen head against the seam of his fly, drags coarse fabric over his leaking tip, makes him hiss between clenched teeth. his balls are tight, drawn up so high it’s like they’re trying to retreat into his body, his whole system locked down, caught in something primal and unforgiving.

he clenches his fists, claws digging into his palms, every muscle in his body coiled and trembling with the effort of staying still, of not grinding down against something, of not reaching between his legs and squeezing his own cock in his fist just to take the edge off.

and then he fucking whimpers.

the sound wrenches out of him, cracking at the end. his breath stutters, catches in his throat, his body too hot, too tight.

johnny's head tips back, knocking against the brick, his hips twitching forward in a broken little jerk, chasing nothing, his cock pulsing angrily, trapped and swollen, sensitivity that borders on pain. he squeezes his eyes shut, teeth grinding, sweat rolling down his spine, but it doesn’t help. nothing helps.

and then— the door creaks open.

he flinches, his whole body jolting, his breath shoving out of him in a ragged, shaking gasp.

you’re there.

crouched beside him, close enough that he can catch your scent, something grounding and unbearable all at once. your hand hovers near his arm like you’re about to touch him.

no.

“no-” it breaks from his lips before he can stop it. “no- back inside-”

his fingers barely catch your sleeve before slipping off, his limbs weak, useless. “call-” he tries again, panting through clenched teeth. “call for help- call for- fuck-”

but you don’t move. you don’t go back inside. you don’t slam the door shut. you don’t listen.

you reach for him. and he folds.

the second your fingers brush his skin, johnny's whole body caves, shaking apart under the weight of whatever the fuck is happening to him. his forehead knocks against your shoulder, a shuddering noise ripping from his throat as he clings to you, his fingers fisting into your shirt like you’re the only solid thing left in the world.

“oh, fuck-” his cock aches. throbs. pulses against the stiff, unforgiving line of his zipper.

he grinds against nothing, every twitch of his hips sending another spike of sensation shooting up his spine. his balls are heavy, swollen, so full it’s like they might burst, like they might spill just from the way his trousers dig into them, the way his body is wound too tight, too fucking close to something he can’t control.

he needs. he needs.

fuck, but he shouldn’t.

“i-” he tries to pull back, tries to put space between you, but his fingers won’t listen. instead, they curl tighter, dragging you in, his body betraying him in real time, his cock pressing flush to your thigh, the heat of it scalding even through layers of fabric.

a noise breaks from him, sounding dangerously close to a sob.

he can’t. he can’t.

“fuck-” he buries his face against your neck. “m’sorry- m’sorry, just-just a second-”

he’s trembling, breath stuttering, little whimpers breaking past his lips no matter how hard he tries to choke them down.

you say something and he barely registers it through the thick haze clouding his head but your warmth weight, and the press of your body against his—

it helps. just a little.

and you— well, you know exactly what’s happening.

you don’t waste time pretending this is something johnny can just ride out alone. you grip his arms, drag him inside, shove the door shut with your heel and twist the locks tight. then the deadbolt. then the security chain.

your fingers are practiced, muscle memory guiding you through the steps of securing the space.

just in case. just in case someone else nearby is in rut or heat, just in case some poor bastard catches wind of johnny’s scent and decides to come sniffing around.

(he smells good. too good. sharp and heady, the scent of him curling in the air, thickening with every ragged breath he lets out. you, even you, feel your own instincts stirring, muscles tensing in awareness, your body recognizing his rut and urging you to stay close. to soothe. to let him take what he needs.)

johnny is shaking against you, his whole frame shuddering with the effort of keeping himself together. his breath is hot against your skin, slipping out between the low, broken whimpers he can’t seem to bite back

“fuck-fuck, m’sorry,” he stammers, voice catching. “didn’t- didn’t mean-”

his claws twitch against your arms, not quite gripping, afraid to hold on too tight.

his tail flicks behind him, anxious, ears pressed flat against his skull. his pupils are blown wide, swallowing up the blue of his eyes, his whole expression caught between shame and need.

“wanted this-” his voice cracks, something dangerously close to a whine. “wanted this to go well. wanted- wanted t’please you.”

johnny shudders, forehead knocking against your shoulder as another tremor rolls through him. “wanted you to- to see me. see me as a good mate. confident.”

he breathes in, sharp, and his whole body locks up for a moment, every muscle going taut— then a full-body shiver wracks through him, cock pulsing hard enough that you feel it, even through his trousers, even through your own clothes.

your throat goes dry.

you reach up, smoothing your fingers through his fur, brushing a hand along his back, trying to offer something— some kind of grounding touch, reassurance.

“johnny,” you murmur, voice steady, firm. “it’s not your fault.”

his breath hitches.

“i really don’t mind,” you say again, softer now, pressing the words into the shell of his ear.

a noise catches in his throat, something small, choked and helpless, and he drags his face away from your shoulder, tilting up to look at you properly.

his pupils are still wide, expression still hazy, but he searches your face with almost terrifying seriousness.

his tail flicks again when he seems to find nothing or what he was looking for.

“…can i make it up to you?”

your brows lift.

his ears twitch, jaw flexing, uncertainty plain with how his teeth catch on his lower lip, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and then lower, dragging slow over the curve of your body.

you shift, tilting your head. “how?”

johnny's tail twitches again then stills. he swallows hard, nostrils flaring, then lifts his gaze back to yours, something new burning in the depths of his expression.

“…can i lick your pussy?” he’s puppy-eyed and pleading, expression screaming with ‘please let me- please let me take care of you- please, i need this.’

his breath ghosts warm over your lips, fingers flexing where they’re still curled weakly around your arms.

he’s trembling, cock leaking. and you—

you nod.

his ears twitch, breath shuddering out in a sharp little gasp, grip on your thighs tightening. fingers hook into your waistband not a moment later, and he yanks, dragging your pants down, underwear with them, his movements are frantic, almost clumsy in his eagerness. he groans, wrecked and relieved, the second you're bare in front of him, pupils blown, tail wagging, whole body thrumming with ‘please, please, please.’

and then—

oh.

his tongue is warm.

hot and wet and wide, the rough texture of it dragging over your slit in a slow, open-mouthed lick, firm and eager like he's trying to taste every inch of you.

your breath stutters, hands flying to his head, fingers curling into his thick fur as he groans against you, the sound vibrating up through his tongue, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your spine.

and he doesn't stop.

doesn't hesitate. doesn't tease.

no, johnny dives in, pressing his face right up against your cunt, burying his nose in the soft flesh of your inner thigh, mouth sealing over you like he's starving.

his tongue flicks, curls, scoops into you, lapping up your slick with these obscene little slurping sounds, breath coming fast and desperate through his nose.

"fuck," you gasp, hips jerking, but he just growls, arms wrapping around your thighs, locking you in place.

his tongue drags up, then circles your clit, flicking once, twice before sucking it into his mouth, lips sealing around it with wet, sloppy pressure.

a sharp, helpless sound breaks from your throat, fingers spasming in his fur, tugging hard, but he just whines, pushing closer, pressing his face deeper between your legs, like he wants to drown in you.

his tail thumps against the floor, hips shifting, rutting, desperate little movements like he needs the friction, like eating you out is wrecking him just as much as it’s wrecking you.

johnny’s tongue works you open, the rough drag of it lighting up every nerve in your body. he’s sloppy with it, messy and eager as a puppy, sucking and lapping and groaning like he can’t get enough— like he won’t get enough, not until you’re shaking, not until you’re breaking apart in his hands.

his nose presses in, nuzzling against your clit as he angles his tongue deeper, the slick heat of his mouth sealing around you, sucking, devouring every drop of slick that spills from your pussy. his grip tightens, claws pricking your skin, grounding you against his face as he buries himself in your cunt, breath ragged.

his ears twitch at every moan, every gasp, tail wagging, thudding against the floor in frantic, jerky movements. his hips roll, little ruts against nothing, cock straining in his pants.

and fuck, the way you’re squeezing around his tongue, the way you’re whining, the way your fingers are tugging at his fur, yanking him closer, using him for your pleasure—

it’s perfect.

his tongue flicks against your clit, so fast he feels like his jaw is gonna cramp and your whole body locks up, muscles tensing, thighs clamping around his head as your pleasure slams through you.

"johnny-!"

you break, back arching, fingers spasming in his hair as your orgasm rips through you, cunt clenching.

and johnny loses it.

his hips snap forward, grinding down against the floor, cock pulsing in his pants, the thick length throbbing in time with your orgasm, so turned on with how you’re gushing into his mouth.

"fuck-” johnny’s body shaking, arms tightening around your thighs as his own climax crashes into him, his whole frame jerking with it.

his tail spasms, ears flicking wildly, and he ruts with mindless abandon, his tongue still lapping at you as he comes, soaking his trousers, thick spurts spilling out in his underwear, making a mess of himself, of the floor beneath him.

johnny’s breath stutters, his tongue slower now, softer. he whimpers against you, his hips giving these tiny, involuntary twitches, pleasure still rattling through his system, buzzing under his skin.

he’s a mess. ruined. wrecked.

but he’s still got his mouth on you. he’s still hard.

even after all that, after coming in his pants like a desperate thing, he’s still thick and straining against the damp fabric, the outline of his cock pressing against his zipper, a dark stain spreading where his release had soaked through.

but he’s smiling up at you, lazy, hazy-eyed satisfaction, ears flicking, tail giving a slow, contented thump against the floor. he looks pleased with himself, looks like he just had the best meal of his life, tongue flicking out to lick the last traces of you from his lips.

you swallow, your gaze flicking down, heat curling in your stomach.

"johnny-" your voice comes out soft. "do you- do you wanna fuck me?"

his ears perk up. his breath hitches.

"fuck," he gasps, pupils blown, hips giving a helpless little jerk, grinding into nothing. "fuck, yes- yes, please-”

your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper, but he hears it like a gunshot.

"fuck me..."

johnny whines. he’s so happy, so relieved, so thrilled that his hands are already moving before his brain catches up— grabbing at your clothes, tearing them off your body, dragging fabric down your arms, over your hips, tossing them aside like they offend him.

you barely have a second to breathe before he’s fumbling with his own clothes, his pants sticking to his skin, soaked through with his release, and he growls under his breath, impatient, frantic, tearing at the fabric.

you hear the sharp rip before you see him, and by then, it’s too late.

his hands are on your hips again, tugging you back against him, the heat of him pressing up behind you. bare now, nothing between you, and—

oh.

oh.

there is a lot of him.

you don't see it, but you feel it, the weight of him pressing against you, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, leaking precum against your folds. your brain catches up in a single, dawning moment of realization.

"u-um- johnny, wait-"

he doesn’t wait. he pushes in.

your mouth drops open around a soundless scream, arms giving out beneath you, sending you down onto your hands as your body stretches around him.

"hnnngh- fuck-”

johnny groans, hands locking around your hips, fingers digging in, holding you still as he sinks in deeper, his fat length forcing you open, your walls struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him.

his cock is thick, veined, hot as a brand against your insides, his knot still deflated but already pressing against your entrance, teasing the stretch that’s still to come.

"s’good- fuck- so warm-" he babbles, hips twitching. rolling. driving him deeper. deeper. deeper.

you can feel every ridge, every pulse, the wet sounds of your slick mixing with his precum, making everything so messy, so hot, so unbearably good.

your fingers curl against the floor, nails scraping for purchase, breath coming in ragged gasps. you can barely speak, but you manage a single, broken sound—

"johnny-"

he whimpers, hips jerking forward, sinking the last of himself inside.

he’s so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

he snaps his hips forward, slamming into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

again.

again.

again.

it’s feral. frantic. mindless. his claws dig into your hips, keeping you locked in place as he fucks into you with the wild, unrelenting pace of an animal.

"fuck- fuck- fuck-"

he’s babbling now, every noise ripped straight from his chest. he’s gone, lost to instinct, breath ragged, panting against your back.

and you— you’re drooling.

your mouth falls open, a string of spit slipping past your lips, eyes hazy, unfocused, body pliant beneath him. it’s like you’re the one in heat, like his need has infected you, sinking into your skin, making you just as desperate, just as mindless.

his knot isn’t even swollen yet, and still— still— it feels like too much, like your body is barely keeping up, like you’re caught in the eye of a storm and all you can do is take it.

and he’s loving it.

“s-so good-" he whimpers, his voice shaking, thick with pleasure, his ears twitching. "s’takin’ me so well- fuck- made f’me, yeah? made t’be bred-"

his teeth graze the back of your neck, not quite biting, but close, breath hot against your skin.

"tell me- tell me y’need it-"

his hips snap forward, hard, cock grinding against the deepest part of you.

"tell me, bonnie-“

you somehow managed a choked moan of his name which seems to please him enough. “j-johnny!”

"hah- hah- hah-" his panting is ragged, tongue lolling out between sharp teeth, drool slipping past his lips, dripping onto your back. his claws dig into your hips, dragging you back onto his cock with every thrust.

you're reduced to a mess of slick and sweat and open-mouthed moans. your vision swims, breath stuttering, drool slipping past your own lips. your cunt grips him tight, sucking him in, slick coating his cock, dripping down his balls, wetting the base of his knot as it starts to swell.

"pretty..." johnny fucking giggles. it’s breathy, boyish, downright giddy as he snakes a hand down between your legs, fingertips dragging through the sticky mess between your thighs, rubbing over your swollen, aching clit.

"pretty clit… so soft... s’cute like this, all swollen f’me..."

he snickers to himself, his other hand coming up to your lower belly, pressing down, feeling the bulge his cock makes inside you. his hips snap forward hard, pressing down at the same time, making you feel every inch of him.

"fuck-" he whimpers, laughter breaking into a moan, tail flicking wildly behind him. "y'feel that? s’me, bonnie- deep inside- fuck, s’good-”

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body locking up, cunt milking him as you shake. your mind goes hazy, all-consuming pleasure buzzing through your nerves, and you barely register the way his rhythm falters—

until he gasps, breath catching, his whole body trembling, hips stuttering against you.

but he doesn’t push his knot in.

his cock throbs, leaking, twitching inside you, but his knot— still swollen, thick and pulsing at your entrance— doesn’t breach. he was too caught up, too lost in you, and now.

well, now it’s too late.

"fuck- fuck, bonnie, ‘m sorry-" his voice is frantic, hands shaking where they grip your hips. "i was s’posed t’ knot you, i- fuck, i know it hurts-”

and it does.

the ache of being left open, empty where you should be full, the throb of your walls still pulsing around nothing.

johnny knows.

he knows it hurts to push his knot in if you’re not distracted by your orgasm. he also knows the second the high fades it’s going to leave you aching, needy, sensitive in a way that burns.

"i got you, bonnie-" he murmurs, voice soft, affectionate even as he drives into you again, already chasing another orgasm from you. "gonna make it up t’you, promise-"

he grabs your hips, yanking you back onto his cock, fucking you harder, faster, desperate to fix it, desperate to make sure you don’t feel the pain.

his fingers find your clit again, rubbing quick, his touch clumsy, eager. “fuck- ‘m sorry, s’gonna feel so good, swear it-"

and he’s right.

your body can’t fight him, can’t deny him, the overstimulation pushing you right back up that peak, another orgasm slamming into you not even a minute later.

your walls clamp down around him, milking him, and he chokes on a moan, his whole body tensing. "fuck, fuck, that’s it- thass it, bonnie-"

his knot swells, stretching you wide, pushing in finally, locking him deep inside you—

and then he comes.

he fills you, cock pulsing, spurts of cum pouring into you, stuffing you full. his hips twitches, grinding against you, voice breaking on your name.

johnny's arms wrap around you, hugging you tight, chest pressed to your back. "s-sorry," he breathes, still panting, nuzzling against your shoulder. "s’never gonna happen again, promise-”

oh but it does. it happens multiple times, in fact.

you don’t know how long it’s been. you lost count after his fifth load. time has lost all meaning, swallowed up by the relentless rhythm of johnny’s rut.

he’s insatiable. a desperate, panting mess, rutting into you over and over, knotting you again and again, rolling his hips even when he’s still locked inside you, grinding his over-sensitive cock against your walls like he can’t stop.

his hands won’t let go of you, always grabbing, always holding— your hips, your waist, your thighs, your wrists. pulling you back onto him, keeping you flush against his sweat-slicked body.

johnny's all heat, burning up against you, whining your name in between frantic, slurred murmurs of "so good, so good, my bonnie, mine-"

but eventually— finally— the first wave of his rut starts to fade.

he slows. his thrusts lose their urgency, grip loosening, breath evening out, the feverish need in his eyes softening into something dazed, exhausted.

you take your chance.

"johnny-" you murmur, shifting slightly beneath him. "you need to drink some water, love."

he doesn't seem to really hear you, nuzzling into your neck. "mmm… later…"

"no, now," you insist, stroking a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "you’ve- we've been going for hours- we need to hydrate, okay?"

he grumbles, but when you finally manage to untangle yourself from his grasp and sit up, he whines, reaching for you again, ears flattening against his head.

"no- bonnie- come back-"

"drink first," you say, grabbing the water bottle from your nightstand and holding it out to him after you've had your own fill. "then I’ll cuddle you."

he pouts but takes the bottle, chugging down greedy gulps, tail flicking sluggishly behind him.

you press a granola bar into his hand next, watching as he blinks at it, then at you, before finally taking a bite.

he chews slowly, brows furrowing like he’s thinking about something, the fog in his brain is clearing just enough for rational thought.

and that’s when you pick up his phone from the mess of clothes, phoning his emergency number.

a guy nicknamed 👻.

you hesitate, fingers hovering over the call button.

johnny tilts his head at you, ears twitching. "whatcha doin’, bonnie?"

"calling your emergency contact," you say, glancing at him. "someone needs to know you’re in rut."

johnny groans, flopping back against the pillows, rubbing a hand down his face. "oh, fuck me-"

"i did," you deadpan. "for hours."

he snorts, but his face is already going pink. "fuckin’ hell… he’s never gonna let me live this down…"

you press the call button. the phone barely rings twice before a gruff, sleep-roughened voice answers. "this better be important, mactavish.”

"uh- hi," you say, gripping the phone tighter. "this isn’t johnny, but i feel like i needed to call his emergency contact so..”

there’s a pause. a sharp inhale. then— "…what happened."

you glance over at johnny, who’s sprawled out on the bed, still naked, still flushed, body twitching with the last remnants of his latest orgasm. his tail flicks, ears pinned back, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

"he’s in rut," you explain. "we- uh- handled it. but he’s still got waves coming, and i don’t think i can keep up with him forever."

"fuck," the guy mutters. there’s some shuffling on his end, the sound of movement, a door creaking open. "how long’s he been at it?"

you hesitate, looking at the clock. "uh… at least five to six hours?"

"jesus fucking christ." more rustling. "i’ll drop some suppressants off. you got any blockers up?"

"yeah, doors are locked, everything’s secure," you say. "no one else has caught onto his scent. hopefully."

"good. last thing we need is someone else getting ideas."

you nod, happy you're both on the same page.

"i’ll be there in twenty," he continues. "keep him calm, get some fluids in him, and don’t let him knot you again unless you wanna be stuck for another hour."

you open your mouth to answer, but before you can, johnny groans, rolling onto his side, tail swishing, his voice petulant.

"is that ghost?"

"is that his name? i mean, i guess so-"

"tell him he’s a fuckin’ cockblock," johnny whines, pouting up at you. "cannae believe this- rut suppressants? really? yer ruining all my fun, mate."

"oh, fuck off," ghost deadpans. "you’ll thank me when you’re not dead from dehydration and a broken dick."

johnny grumbles, burying his face into your thigh, huffing dramatically. "don’t wanna suppressants. wanna keep fuckin’ my bonnie-”

ghost sighs, long and heavy. "jesus christ. twenty minutes."

the line goes dead.

[monstersholygrail]

In The Darkness

Shadow demon x fem!reader— sensory deprivation, multiple orgasms, bondage (cuffs), groping, fingering, oral (f!receiving), p in v sex, finger sucking, aftercare

Your shadow demon bf had opened your eyes and welcomed you into a whole new world of pleasure that was just waiting to you both to explore. And you have. You’ve done things you never thought you’d enjoy due to the love and trust you have in your bf. In return you’ve gained so many new experiences that you’d never want to take back.

At this point you’ve pretty much stopped asking questions whenever your shadow demon bf proposes that he wants to try something new with you. But this time you think you have to ask some questions.

Because when your shadow demon bf tells you that he wants to fuck you in complete darkness, you’re insanely confused. Sure, you two have never done that before. Always having on at least a candle so that you can see each other as your bf fucks your brains out. But this is far from the craziest thing you two have ever done and it’s left you having no clue what’s going on.

Still, you trust your bf. You follow his exact instructions and you relish in the submission of it. Of letting go of all thought and action, your bf’s voice being your only guiding light. Especially as the darkness surrounds you and it’s the only true thing you can grasp onto.

Tingles shoot up your spine. A smirk begins to play on your lips as you realize the possible appeal. A eery chuckle shifts through the darkness and you jump as a moment later two clawed hands firmly grip onto the waist of your bare form. The prickly tips of sharpened claws caress up and down the curve of your stomach, leaving sparks in their wake.

“What a vision you are in the darkness, my heart. Now do you see mine?” Your bf’s haunting yet alluring voice whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise along your skin and your smile widens, getting a sense of his intentions with this newest request.

His touch as gentle as the wind, coursing through the pathway of your body till he reaches your breasts and the caress turns firm and purposeful. Groping you and pulling you tightly into his large chest. Your grasp rings out through the dark silent space. It’s echos vibrating and increasing the tension between you.

Leaning back into the comfort of his embrace, you moan. Nothing else to turn to, to focus on, besides his touch. Bringing the sensations to a new height till you’re writhing against him before he’s even done anything to you.

“Near total sensory deprivation, the only real thing being my voice. All of your senses now completely at my mercy,” Shadow demon bf rasps darkly, finally giving you some of his reasoning behind all this.

You have to admit that the idea of it is arousing and your body agrees as your pussy floods with your essence. Always so nice and wet for him, you can’t help it. Everything he says has your nerves standing on edge and your cunt fluttering and begging to be filled.

Careful claws tease and tweak at your nipples, whimpers escaping you as you tremble in his secure hold. You cry out, rubbing your thighs together to gain any semblance of friction you can get. Yet it’s not enough, your hole so achingly empty and needing to be stuffed full. Your mind grows foggy and centers in on this one desperate thought.

“Lost in the void and who is the only thing that can ground you?” Shadow demon bf whispers into your ear again, his forked tongue slithering out and licking along the smooth curve of your ear.

The sensation is quick, tantalizing, and gone far too soon. You whimper, leaning back into him. Your body, floating as if on cloud nine, seeking out that skilled tongue of his. Knowing with every fiber in what’s left of your present being that you’ll get it. So long as you’re good for him.

“You are,” you croak out, voice weak and wanting.

A low rumbles moves through your bf’s chest in agreement, clearly pleased with your willing and eager response. The loss of his touch on your breasts, on your hard nipples, is a hit your floating mind can barely handle. A loud whine escaping you until his cool touch returns, moving along your curves. The further down he goes the less you can breathe, simply waiting.

“That’s right, my starlight,” he says as his deft fingers dip into your folds, spreading them and spearing themselves along your slit. Your breath knocks out of you, exhaling heavily as he ignites the nerves of your pussy lips. They clench and contort around him, mindlessly guiding the digits to delve inside your hole.

Shadow demon bf chuckles at the feeling, causing your cheeks to tinge with red. Thankful that even if he can feel you, he won’t be able to see you in your lewdness. Another thing the darkness around you provides. Another thing you’re looking forward to. Your bfs voice and the slow glide of his fingers snaps you out of your thoughts.

“You overwhelm me, sweet one. You are all I feel and all that grounds me to this plane. I believe it’s time I repay the favor.”

Shadow demon bf’s fingers don’t leave you as his other hand guides you to bend down at the waist. Your own arms reach out, carelessly searching through the darkness until you find it. Fingers curl around the metal cuffs suspended in front of you. The click of each lock as they enclose around your wrists has your back arching, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

“Look at you, so good and ready for me,” Shadow demon bf mumbles, drawing lazy circle against your clit as he kneels down on the ground behind you. You whimper and push back, though his free hand is quick to grab at your plush thigh. Keeping you in place.

His keen eyes reflect in the darkness, giving him access to view everything in front of him. Yet you remain completely clueless. Just how he wants you. Your legs spread further as his fingers slide back down your slit, giving him the sight of your beautiful dripping pussy. Your essence dribbling down your thighs and making such a mess. A mess he’s more than ready to clean up.

In an instant that tongue you’ve been waiting for is back and it’s back with a vengeance. Your body jolts, cuffs clanging and ringing in your ears, surprised by the sudden slick texture of his forked tongued sliding along your thigh and pushing through your folds. Not having expected more than his touch at the moment. The darkness riding you of knowing what’ll happen next.

Though your anticipation doesn’t have time to build as shadow demon bf glides his tongue through your folds, swirling around your clit in a mind-numbing manner. You moan, body rolling into the sensations but not knowing where exactly to move. Leaving you to squirm in search of your bf.

Shadow demon bf grins viciously and you can feel it against your cunt, knowing his enjoying this. Loving how you struggle and silently beg for more of him. His hands shift to your hips, both keeping you in place and letting you know where he’ll be.

All you get in warning is a growl before your bf begins ravaging your pussy, sloppily lapping up your cunt. His hands spread your ass cheeks, widening the entrance for his tongue to slide deep inside your weeping pussy. Pressure weighs down in your belly as your pleasure builds, rising onto your toes and giving him better access.

He grunts his thanks and repeats his rhythm with precise precision and never ending stamina. He doesn’t stop fucking his tongue into your cunt until you explode around it. Your walls clenching around his tongue, your essence gushing onto his tastebuds. Shadow demon bf growls and unhinges his jaw, taking in every last damn drop and working you through it.

Both of you are breathing heavily as your orgasm begins to fade and your bf leans back. You still can’t see, hear, or feel anything beside the cold metal around your wrists. The only noise your breaths. Aside from that the silence stretches on and it has the hair on the back of your neck standing up straight.

“Ready for more?” Your bfs voice suddenly growls in your ear and you shout. Body jerking back and you immediately bump into his broad frame and right into his huge girth. His erection nestling against your ass.

Your eyes scatter and search the surroundings over the shoulder you hear him from but you can’t see anything. Only darkness. Before you can respond your bf crashes his lips against yours and you let out another muffled shout. But you respond without a beat of hesitation, opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue back inside your body. Both of you moaning into it as your cum tickles your own tastebuds.

Shadow demon bf’s cock slowly starts grinding into you, neither of you breaking your kiss. You stay perfectly still for him, keeping yourself wide open and needy for his length. Still not getting your fill of wanting to be split in two.

With your body all prepped for him, your bf guides his dick through your folds. Whimpers leaving you as his tip bumps into your sensitive clit. Your bf nips at your tongue affectionately before you feel his big mushroom tip, leaking heavily with pre-cum, push at your entrance.

With a simply push forward, your bf breaks past your entrance, sinking down into your eager sopping cunt. Your jaw drops, a loud moan lights the room up with noise as his cock stretches your walls for all their worth. Forcing its way in and demanding you submit to its sheer girth and the pleasure it’ll bring. You relax as much as you can, practically sucking him inside of you.

Shadow demon bf growls, your walls nearly suffocating him you’re so fucking tight. When he bottoms out his tip nudges at your cervix. The pain sharp and aching but so delicious. You close your eyes, basking in it all. You feel so full and so complete with him inside you.

Your breaths mingle and mix in the space between your mouths. Eyes open you continue trying to search for your bf in the dark, even knowing it’s useless. Wanting to see how much of a mess you make him and even maybe wanting him to see just how thoroughly he destroys you.

By the way he draws you, making you feel every thick and bulging vein along his cock against your walls before roughly snapping his hips back inside you, you almost swear he can see you. That he knows how much of a mess you truly make him. But that’s impossible right?

All worries and thoughts leave you in the blink of an eye as Shadow Demon bf starts up his demolishing pace. Claws carefully sinking into you to keep you steady. A loud roar rumbles through the room and you jump in your bones, which only serves to push your body back into his intense thrusts.

Your bf grunts, clearly approving and you cry out as he starts moving your body back into his cock, having you meet the rough rolls of his hips. Your body tenses, cunt clenching down around him and having you feel even more full.

Tossing your head back, your teeth clench, pleasure crashing through you in waves you can’t even think to stop as there’s nothing else for you to ground yourself with. Your lost in the sea of pleasure, tingling sensations of arousal pulsing within your body and spreading out over and over again.

Your bf watches your body twist and contort in order to take his giant cock and everything it’s making you feel. A twisted satisfaction burns through him at how much of a beautiful mess you look. The sight has him picking up his pace, slamming his length inside you, molding your perfect pussy to his shape. Making his home here and showing you he’ll never leave.

Moans and cries of pleasure are no longer enough as you release a fierce scream. You can faintly hear your bfs low groan, his voice feeling so far away. Lost in the abyss your hands try and reach for something— anything. But the clang of the cuffs is all that rings true. Sparking an idea in your mind you try and reach forward, hoping you can ground yourself by placing the chain of the cuffs in your mouth.

But just as you reach it, Shadow demon bf pulls you back and burys his cock back inside your crying and begging cunt. Emotion wells up inside your chest and you sob, tears coming to your eyes. Your body moves back into your bfs chest and his voice comes back down to your ear.

“Sh, sh, sh, my love. It’s alright, you’re alright,” he whispers soothingly, hand coming up to stuff a few of his large fingers into your mouth. You whimper, sucking eagerly, letting the sturdy size of his digits ground you back down to earth and help calm you down.

His other hand soothingly caresses your stomach as he continues to fuck into you, his pace not slowing down for a second. Making sure to take care of all your needs at once. Small whimpers continue to leave you, feeling better as his presence surrounds you and stays in your mouth and pussy. You move back into his thrusts again, all on your own.

Tendrils of darkness creep up from the deep and curl around your body. Having been used to them they only provide further comfort to you. One long tentacle wraps up and strokes at your clit, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. With a firm press of his hand on your stomach and a few more snaps of his hips, you scream once more, this time around his fingers as your orgasm bursts through you.

Your cum paints Shadow demon bf’s cock, your walls spasming and clenching down on his length. Sparks shoot up his spine and his teeth sink into your shoulder as he follows right after you into climax, his heavy load splashing deeply against your womb and filling your pussy even more than you thought was possible. His hips still rocking into you until you both sag into each other.

Shadow demon bf slides out of you gently but you still hiss at the slight sting. As your combined release spills out of you, you shiver and clench down to keep it inside of you. Your bf lights the room with a snap of his fingers and you breathe a sigh of relief as your senses come back to you. As gently as always, he unlocks you from the cuffs. Massaging your wrists and kissing them adoringly.

He guides you to bed, whispering praises, recounting every moment of what just happened through his eyes. Letting you know how good you did, how perfect you were for him, how absolutely gorgeous you looked then and now, and asking how you feel to make sure you’re alright.

Pouring endless praise and love onto you as he cleans up the mess between your thighs before he sweeps you up into his arms the moment you two get into bed. Pressing soft kisses all of your face and sore body. It’s only as you finally relax do you register all his words.

“Could you see me in the dark?” You ask incredulously, voice slightly raspy as you connect the dots. Your bf chuckles and you squeeze your eyes shut, dreading his response and forcing your own laughter down.

“‘Course I could, sweetheart. I’m a shadow demon,” he responds with amusement but your loud groan quickly overshadows his laughter. Red blooming across your chest and up your neck till it spreads all across your face. Your bf merely laughs louder, his hands caressing your back. Wanting to comfort you some before the inevitable teasing begins.

[sirxaibs]

˚₊✩‧₊ Oh bet? ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Vinsmoke Sanji X Reader

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Synopsis: He flirts? you flirt? he falls in love first? you fall just as much

WARNING!- he a FREAK in a weird way not in my present mic way. But he’s still a gentleman ig

This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.

The Baratie was a strange place. A floating restaurant filled with rowdy sailors, the scent of sizzling meats and freshbaked bread hanging in the air. It wasn’t the worst place you’d been, but definitely not the fanciest either. Still, Luffy was practically vibrating in his seat, excited about the food, while Nami looked ready to knock him out if he tried to steal her drink again. Usopp was muttering about how a “great captain” should be treated to the finest dining experience, and Zoro? Zoro just looked half asleep, arms crossed over his chest.

Luffy, practically drooling already, clapped his hands together. “This place smells amazing! Let’s eat!”

“Try not to embarrass us,” Nami sighed, flicking him on the forehead.

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Tch. Fancy place for the middle of the ocean.

Usopp adjusted his goggles, scanning the crowd. “This place looks expensive… Maybe I should tell them I’m a world famous captain. Might get us a discount.”

You chuckled at their antics, but your attention was quickly drawn to the smooth figure gliding through the restaurant. A blonde waiter in a sharp black suit moved effortlessly between tables, a tray balanced perfectly in one hand as he set down a dish with practiced ease. He bowed slightly, his voice rich and honeyed.

“For you, madam, a meal as exquisite as yourself.”

The customer giggled, clearly smitten, but then his gaze lifted. And landed on you. For a moment, he just stared. Then, as if the world around him faded, the tray in his hand clattered to the floor, dishes shattering. The restaurant hushed. You blinked. He didn’t even react to the mess, his eyes locked onto you like he had just seen a goddess descend from the heavens.

“Oh. Mon dieu…” His voice was barely a whisper.

Luffy tilted his head. “Huh? What’s wrong with him?”

He came to an abrupt stop at your table, eyes widening just slightly before he swept into a dramatic bow. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, but I must ask,” He straightened, flashing a devastatingly smooth smile. “how is it that the sea has yet to claim a jewel as radiant as yourself?”

You blinked. Luffy, mid bite of stolen bread, tilted his head. “Huh?”

Nami sighed. “Oh great. One of these types.”

Sanji didn’t even acknowledge her. His focus was entirely on you, as if no one else at the table mattered. “Truly, it is an injustice that you have not been placed upon a throne where only the finest delicacies are brought to you.” He took your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a featherlight touch. “Allow me to be at your service, my dear.”

Usopp let out a low whistle from across the table. “Wow, I think that worked on me.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I already hate him.”

You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly. “That’s quite the greeting for someone you just met.”

Sanji smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers still holding yours. “I believe in making an unforgettable first impression.”

“Oh, I’d say you have.” You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a playful lilt. “I just didn’t realize they were hiring princes here.” It happened immediately. Sanji stiffened. His cigarette nearly fell from his lips. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly like his brain had just shut off completely. For a split second, it was dead silent.

In a singular moment, His entire face went red, from the tips of his ears down to his collar. Luffy choked on his food. Usopp gawked. Zoro, for the first time since you sat down, looked genuinely shocked.

Sanji stumbled back half a step, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them. “AAh—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I— That’s— You—”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him with barely concealed amusement. “Something wrong?”

Another malfunction. The pink deepened. He was visibly sweating. Luffy was absolutely losing it. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY’S HE ACTING LIKE THAT?”

“I—I am NOT—!” Sanji tried to straighten his tie, only to pull it completely loose. His usually cool and composed demeanor had completely crumbled, and he was spiraling. “I—I’ll get your food—YES—I need to—um—”

Quickly trying to gain composure again, turned his head to the side slightly. “Tell me, my love… Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do now. No, no, I know it. I have spent my whole life searching for something, and today, I have found it in you.”

You smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh? And what exactly have you found?”

Sanji exhaled as if you had just spoken the most poetic words in existence. “The reason my heart beats.”

Zoro groaned louder. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are we actually doing this?”

Luffy, still focused on one thing, poked Sanji’s head. “Hey. Can you make us food?”

Sanji finally, reluctantly released your hand, but not without one final lingering touch. Standing up, he smoothed his suit, regaining some composure. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.” Then, to the others, he added flatly, “And I suppose for your friends as well.”

He quickly took your orders, smiling each time giving you a glance and every time it was anyone else at the table who looked more than disinterested. As he sauntered toward the kitchen, he threw one last longing glance over his shoulder at you, pressing a hand to his heart.

“This will not be the last time we speak, my darling.”

You simply smiled, watching him go.

“Well,” you murmured, amused, “obviously it isn’t going to be the last time, he just took our order”

——

The minute sanji joined the crew, He never stopped going for your affection. It started as a casual breakfast on the Going Merry. Peaceful. Normal. Luffy stuffing his face, Zoro half asleep with his arms crossed, Nami sipping her tea, and Usopp telling an obviously exaggerated story. Then, you and Sanji happened. It started small.

“Would you like some more tea, my dear?” Sanji purred, refilling your cup before you could even reach for it. “I couldn’t possibly let someone as radiant as you lift a finger.”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, Sanji, you’re too kind.” You leaned your chin on your hand. “If you keep treating me like this, I might just start thinking you really like me.”

Sanji smirked. “Like you? My dear, you are the sunrise to my every morning.”

“Oh? Am I?” You tilted your head. “Because you seem more like sunset to me charming, warm, and the kind of view that makes it hard to look away.”

Sanji’s mouth went so wide in shock. The crew immediately went on high alert. Nami sighed, lowering her cup. “Oh no. It’s happening again.”

Usopp side eyed the both of you. “How long do we think this round is gonna last?”

Zoro groaned, rubbing his temples. “If we’re lucky, one of us will pass out.”

Meanwhile, Sanji recovered, straightening his tie. “Ah, but my dear, you forget I exist to serve. If I am the sunset, then I shall make sure you end every day with a breathtaking view.” He took your hand, kissing your knuckles.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Sanji, you romantic,”

He grinned. “That’s the mission, sweetheart.”

You leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But tell me, my prince, can you handle it if I fall for you?”

Sanji’s entire body tensed. His cigarette did fall this time. He gawked at you, struggling to form words, ears burning red.

Luffy blinked, mid chew. “Ooooooo sanji is gonna mess up again!”

Sanji snapped out of it. “HAH! No!!” He grabbed your hand again, desperate to reclaim control. “My darling, if you were to fall for me, I’d catch you faster than the wind itself.”

“Oh?” You smirked. “I guess I should be careful, then, since I do like a man who can sweep me off my feet.”

Sanji’s soul left his body.

Usopp threw his hands in the air. “How is he losing at his own game?!”

Zoro smirked. “Arguably has this ever been his game?”

Sanji stumbled back, gripping the table for balance, eyes darting everywhere except at you. “I—I—” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie again (for no reason), and exhaled sharply. “You’re a worthy opponent, I’ll give you that.”

You winked. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t.”

The tension was palpable. Luffy just kept eating, completely unbothered, while Nami rubbed her temples like she had a migraine forming.

“This is gonna go on forever, isn’t it?” she muttered.

“Probably,” Zoro said, amused.

And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the Flirt War raged on.

——

The kitchen of the Going Merry smelled heavenly. The scent of garlic, sizzling butter, and fresh herbs filled the air as you stood beside Sanji, sleeves rolled up, a wooden spoon in your hand.

“This isn’t so hard,” you mused, stirring the sauce in the pan.

Sanji scoffed playfully, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. “Oh? Then why did you just almost burn the onions?”

You gasped, quickly turning down the heat. “That was one time!”

He smirked. “It’s been five minutes.”

You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you burn the ship down.”

You huffed, but the warmth of his presence next to you was… nice. Comfortable.

He reached over, gently guiding your hand as you sprinkled in some salt. “There. Just a little too much will ruin the balance.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “You know, for someone who might actually be the least serious person ever, you’re oddly serious about food.”

Sanji smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Cooking isn’t just about food,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s about taking care of people. Making sure they’re happy, safe, and full.” He glanced at you. “You can learn a lot about someone by what they cook for you and how.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? And what does this say about me?”

He pretended to think, tapping his chin with the knife. “That you’re… lawless, a little reckless, but trying really hard.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

Sanji grinned. “And that you care more than you let on.”

That caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened around the spoon, a warmth creeping up your neck.

He turned away before you could respond, focused on plating the dish. “Alright, taste test.” He lifted a bite of food to your lips, holding the fork expectantly.

You hesitated only a second before leaning in and taking the bite. The flavors burst across your tongue rich, balanced, perfect.

Sanji watched you closely. “Well?”

You swallowed, licking your lips. “Not bad, chef.”

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he smirked. “Not bad? That’s all I get?”

You grinned. “Alright, alright. It’s really good.”

Sanji chuckled, stepping back with a satisfied look. “I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “As long as you don’t mind a little mess in your kitchen.”

His smirk softened. “For you? Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

——

It was supposed to be another harmless round. Another battle of wits. The little game between you and Sanji to see who could make the other fold first.

But somehow, it felt… different today.

The crew was gathered on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun warming the wood beneath you. Lunch had just ended, and everyone was lounging Luffy hanging off the mast, Usopp fiddling with his slingshot, Nami sketching a map, and Zoro napping against the railing.

And then Sanji had done the thing.

He’d casually brushed your hair back, fingers lingering just a second too long, his voice soft as he murmured, “Ah, mon amour, even the wind envies me for touching you.”

That should have been your cue to fire back. To make him stutter, to turn the tables. But for some reason, your breath caught.

Something in the way he said it something different made your heart do a weird little flip.

You recovered quickly, tilting your head with a smirk. “Careful, chef. If you keep that up, I might start believing you.”

Sanji grinned, but his usual arrogance wasn’t there. Instead, he just looked at youlike he was trying to memorize every detail.

The energy shifted. The crew definitely noticed.

Usopp, watching with narrowed eyes, whispered, “am I crazy or does this feel… tense”

Zoro cracked an eye open. “yes. you are crazy. but no you’re right.”

Nami sighed, setting down her pen. “Finally.”

But you and Sanji were locked in now.

Sanji exhaled, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe,” he said, voice lower than usual, “maybe I want you to believe me.”

The teasing smile on your lips faltered just slightly.

Your fingers curled slightly against the railing. As god as your witness, since you first met him it’s been like a drug. But you weren’t about to let him win just yet.

“Is that so?” you murmured, stepping closer. “And what if I told you that I like the way you look at me?”

Sanji stilled, inhaling sharply.

For the first time, you saw him hesitate. Not in the usual, flustered way but in the way someone does when they realize they might be in over their head.

The silence stretched between you. The playfulness was still there, but beneath it was something deeper, something neither of you had expected.

Sanji swallowed, then let out a slow breath. “Then… I’d tell you I haven’t been able to stop looking since the moment I met you.”

You froze. This wasn’t a battle anymore. There were no winners. No losers. Just you and Sanji, standing too close, staring at each other like maybe just maybe this had been real all along.

Neither you nor Sanji moved for a long moment. Then, after a heartbeat, you smiled small, real, genuine.

“Guess we’re both in trouble, huh?” you murmured.

Sanji chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face warmer than the afternoon sun.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think we are.”

——

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves as the crew bustled about, preparing to head into town. You leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as Luffy practically vibrated with excitement.

“MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” he chanted, running in circles around Zoro, who looked one second away from knocking him out cold.

“You guys have fun,” you said, stretching your arms above your head with a content sigh. “I’m just gonna take it easy today. Relax, enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Usopp slung an arm around your shoulder, waggling his brows. “Taking it easy, huh? What, planning on sleeping the whole day away?”

“Something like that,” you replied smoothly, not giving anything away.

“I don’t blame you,” Nami said, adjusting her sunglasses as she stepped onto the dock. “This is the perfect time to get some real alone time without Luffy shouting every five seconds.”

“Oi!” Luffy pouted but was too distracted by the smell of food wafting from town to argue.

Sanji, carrying a basket of supplies over his shoulder, turned to you with a charming smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you back anything, my dear? Something sweet? Something special?”

“I’m good,” you assured him, waving them off. “Just don’t spend all our money, Nami.”

She smirked. “No promises.”

One by one, the crew disappeared down the dock, their voices fading into the distance. You watched until they were completely out of sight before turning on your heel, already feeling the anticipation curl in your stomach.

Being on a boat full of mostly men all the time can definitely get to you, especially when you need some alone time, something that is rare and hard to come by. Today, since it was almost certain that everyone would be off the boat, some much needed solitude was in order.

——

Sanji had barely stepped into town when he realized he had forgotten something. He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he spun on his heel.

“Damn it,” he muttered, adjusting the basket on his shoulder. “I was supposed to grab some containers for dinner tonight.”

The others were already wandering off Luffy sprinting ahead toward a food stall, Zoro heading in the opposite direction (probably lost already), and Nami dragging Usopp toward the market. No one noticed as Sanji veered off, making his way back toward the ship.

The walk wasn’t long, the scent of salt and the gentle rocking of the boat growing stronger as he neared the Sunny. He hummed to himself, mentally running through the ingredients he needed, completely unaware of what he was about to walk into.

He stepped lightly onto the deck, shoes tapping softly against the wood. The ship was eerily quiet, a rare occurrence with their crew. Normally, he’d appreciate the peace, but something about it made his brow furrow.

“(Y/N)?” he called out absentmindedly, though he didn’t expect a response. You had said you were going to relax, probably napping or reading in your room.

Shrugging, he made his way below deck, heading straight for the kitchen but then, out of pure curiosity (and maybe the tiniest bit of nosiness), he paused outside your door. He wasn’t planning on knocking, just listening for a moment, maybe to see if you had fallen asleep already.

That was when he heard it. A soft sound almost like a gasp. Sanji blinked, tilting his head. Another sound. A shaky breath. Sanji’s brain short circuited.

He swallowed thickly, eyes widening slightly as realization hit him like a speeding Sea Train. His hand, which had been halfway to knocking, immediately yanked back like he had been burned.

Oh. Oh.

He should leave. Right now. Turn around, walk away, pretend he heard nothing, and never think about it again. That would be the polite thing to do. The respectful thing to do.

And yet.

His feet refused to move.

A terrible, awful, sinful curiosity rooted him in place. His fingers twitched. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could be happening on the other side of that door.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take a step back. Nope. No, no, no. This was bad. He needed to go before

The ship rocked slightly, the floor beneath him creaking as his foot shifted.

And then. The door creaked open. His soul left his body.

——

The room was quiet, save for the sound of your own heavy breathing. The ship rocked gently on the waves outside, the muffled voices of birds flying by, barely audible from the deck. You had thought that you were alone.

Which is why you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

Didn’t notice the door creak open. Didn’t realize you had an audience until

“oh my god.”

Sanji’s entire body locked up. Every cell in his being screamed at him to move, to run, to do anything but it was too late. He had already seen too much.

His face turned red at an alarming rate, from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His hands, which had been casually shoved into his pockets, shot up to his face like a man shielding himself from the divine sight he had just walked in on.

His knees buckled. His breath hitched. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out only small, choked noises that sounded vaguely like prayers.

His mind was an absolute mess. On one hand, he knew he needed to leave. Immediately. On the other hand—OH GOD, YOU LOOKED LIKE A DREAM.

The way your skin glowed in the soft light, the way your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the way your expression was twisted in pleasure it was too much.

“I— I— I—” He wheezed. His soul was about to physically exit his body.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, realization dawned across your face, your very flustered, very not fully clothed face.

“UH” You scrambled for anything to cover yourself, your face burning hotter than the sun.

Sanji let out something between a strangled gasp and a whimper.

“I— I didn’t see anything!” he blurted, shaking violently. “Well, actually, I did—but I shouldn’t have—but I can’t unsee it now—BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”

“SANJI!”

“YES, MY LOVE?!” His voice cracked.

“GET. OUT.”

That finally snapped him out of his stupor. With one last, absolutely pathetic nosebleed, Sanji let out an inhuman noise, spun around, and slammed the door behind him so hard the ship probably shook.

Silence.

From the other side of the door, you heard a loud crash, followed by weak, lovesick mumbling.

Sanji had absolutely collapsed.

——

After that incident, you had taken your time leaving your room, hoping that by some miracle, he had either forgotten what happened (unlikely) or at least regained enough composure to function like a normal human being around you (even more unlikely).You weren’t hiding from Sanji, exactly.

Unfortunately, the moment you stepped onto the deck, you spotted him.

Or rather Sanji spotted you.The second his ocean blue eyes landed on you, it was over.

His entire body went rigid, as if he had just been struck by lightning. His face already slightly pink from the heat went so violently red that it looked like he was about to self combust.

Then came the nosebleed. It started with a small trickle. Then another. Then a full on gush as the memory of what he had walked in on clearly assaulted his mind all over again.

Sanji wobbled. His legs shook. His breath hitched in his throat, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every instinct in his body.

“Ohhh… oh no…” he muttered, swaying slightly. “It’s happening again… mon dieu… mon dieu…”

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at him. “The hell is wrong with him?”

Sanji let out a pained noise. A whimper. His entire soul was fracturing in real time.

You, watching this, sighed and crossed your arms. “Sanji.”

That was a mistake.

Because the moment your voice reached him, His name floating through your voice, his entire body shuddered, and he collapsed.

Flat on his back. Blood dripping from his nose. Muttering your name like some kind of prayer. The deck went silent.

Luffy, chewing on a piece of meat, blinked down at Sanji’s unconscious body. “Whoa. What happened to him?”

Usopp peered over and snorted. “I don’t know but he’s a perv—”

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Idiot probably deserved it.”

Meanwhile, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…Sanji please���.”

Sanji barely conscious let out the softest little, “yes, my love…” before finally passing out completely.

On his side after that second misfortune, Sanji HAD been avoiding you since the incident. Knowing full well how disrespectful he’s being. But also know he fully well will fumble. It was hard to avoid someone when every time he laid eyes on you, his body betrayed him.

Blushes. Stammering. Dramatic nosebleeds. Near death experiences. It had been days, and he was still acting like a wreck.

And frankly? You were done with it. You missed you guys hanging out and making food together.

Which is why, when you caught him sneaking off toward the kitchen, you marched right up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his stupid suit, and your fist cracked against his head.

Sanji staggered, a yelp escaping his lips as he clutched his skull. “OW!—MMa chérie! Why—”

You grabbed his tie and yanked him down so he was eye level with you. “Pull yourself together, Sanji!”

His eyes were spinning. He looked devastated. “BBut, my love—”

WHAM. Another hit. Lighter this time, but still firm. “No more nosebleeds. No more fainting. No more worshipping the ground I walk on like some desperate virgin!”

Sanji sputtered. “BBut I’m not—”

You raised your fist again.

“Okay, okay!!” he yelped, hands raised in surrender. “II will act normal, I swear—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Sanji swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “YYes, I—”

His eyes flickered to your lips for half a second. Bad move.

You decked him.

Sanji flew like a damn ragdoll, his body went sailing across the deck before he crashed into a barrel with a pitiful THUD.

The crew who had been watching the whole thing winced.

Luffy, still chewing on his food, let out an impressed whistle. “Wow. is this because of the other day?.”

Usopp adjusted his goggles. “Think he’s still alive?”

Zoro, barely sparing Sanji a glance, scoffed. “Unfortunately.”

Meanwhile, Sanji twitched on the ground, a giant lump forming on his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

But despite the pain, despite the pure force of your hit his lips wobbled into a lovesick grin.

“Ohhh… they’re so strong…”

You cracked your knuckles. “Sanji.”

“Right! Right! Acting normal! Got it!!”

———

bustling with vendors and laughter as the crew explored. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden light over the marketplace. The air smelled of grilled seafood, sweet fruits, and warm bread. It should have been a relaxing outing.

Should have been.

Except Sanji was currently draped over a group of women near a café, all charm and smooth words, flashing that damn heart eyed smile of his.

“Oh, ladies, you truly brighten this already beautiful day~” he cooed, practically melting into the group. One of the women giggled, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“You’re quite the charmer,” she said, batting her lashes.

“I only speak the truth, my sweet,” Sanji replied, reaching for her hand, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. “How could I not, when standing before such goddesses?”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw the back of your skull.

The audacity. The absolute nerve of this man.

After what happened on the ship the way he had short circuited, collapsed, and barely functioned in your presence for days he had the gall to be out here, flirting with random women like it was second nature? Like he hadn’t seen you in the most intimate, vulnerable position imaginable?

Unbelievable.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. You weren’t sure why you were so irritated. It wasn’t like Sanji didn’t do this all the time. This was normal. Standard. A daily occurrence.

But for some reason, today, it grated on you.

Maybe it was because every time you accidentally brushed against him since the incident, he’d combust like a malfunctioning robot. Maybe it was because he couldn’t even look you in the eye without stuttering.Maybe it’s because you missed him

Or maybe it was because, for a moment, just a brief moment, you thought maybe just maybe his affections toward you were different.

Apparently not.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning away. You weren’t going to stand around watching him throw himself at strangers all day.

Just as you were about to walk off, you heard one of the women giggle.

“You’re adorable,” she purred.

Your jaw clenched.

Then, without thinking, you spun on your heel and called out

“Sanji!”

His entire body stiffened.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned his head toward you. The women glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension.

“Oh?” one of them mused,. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Sanji’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

You tilted your head, arms still crossed.

“Well, Sanji?” you asked sweetly.

——

You weren’t mad. You weren’t. Because being mad would mean that you had some kind of claim over Sanji, and you didn’t.

He could flirt with whoever he wanted. He could call every woman a goddess, get on his knees, offer them his undivided attention like they were the only ones in the world. It was normal.

So why did it feel like a slow burn in your chest every time you heard him do it?

You had no right to feel this way. No reason to let your mood sour. So instead of dealing with it dealing with him you made a choice.

You avoided Sanji. instead? You spent the day with Zoro.

At first, the swordsman had given you a look when you plopped down beside him on the deck, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ocean.

“The hell do you want?” he grumbled.

“Nothing,” you muttered, leaning back with a sigh. “Just… existing.”

Zoro huffed but didn’t push you away. That was the nice thing about him he didn’t pry. He just let you be.

The two of you ended up training together, sparring to get your mind off things. You let yourself focus on the swing of your arms, the rhythm of dodging, the burn of exertion rather than the twisting feeling in your gut.

For a few hours, it actually worked. Until Sanji noticed. At first, he didn’t think much of it. You were friends with Zoro, sure. He’d seen you talk before, train together. It was fine.

But as the day went on, something started to feel… off.

You weren’t coming into the kitchen to steal bites of food before dinner. You weren’t teasing him like you usually did. You weren’t around him at all.

Instead? You were with him. Sanji was pissy. Not just annoyed. Not just mildly irritated.

Pissy.

And it was your fault.

You, who had spent the entire day hanging around Zoro like he was your new favorite person. You, who had laughed at something the swordsman said actually laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.

You, who had barely spared Sanji a second glance.

So now, he was chopping vegetables in the galley with the kind of aggression that should be illegal, his cigarette burning low as he muttered under his breath.

Nami, leaning against the counter with her drink, raised a brow. “You’re gonna cut your fingers off if you keep that up.”

Sanji slammed his knife down. “Tch.”

“Oh, somebody’s grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

Nami snorted. “Uhhuh. So this doesn’t have anything to do with you know who hanging out with Zoro all day?”

Sanji scowled. “I don’t care what they do.”

“Right.” She took a sip of her drink. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at the deck for hours.”

“I have not—”

The galley doors swung open.

And there you were.

Sanji straightened immediately, expression neutral, but Nami could see the way his grip tightened on the counter.

You walked in casually, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. “Hey, Sanji—”

“Oh,” he cut in, tone clipped. “You remember my name?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought you’d forgotten, considering how busy you’ve been with moss head.”

You stared. “…Are you jealous?”

Sanji scoffed. “Pft.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Please.”

“You are jealous.”

“I am not.”

You smirked, stepping closer. “Oh my god. You are.”

Sanji turned away sharply, muttering something under his breath as he aggressively stirred a pot that didn’t need stirring.

You frowned . “You’re mad.”

“I am not mad.”

“You’re being all pissy.”

“I am not. would you just” He exhaled sharply, spinning around to face you, his frustration spilling over. “Forgive me for thinking you’d actually want to spend time with me instead of that muscle brained idiot!”

You blinked.

Sanji blinked.

The room fell silent.

Nami slowly sipped her drink, enjoying the show.

“…Wow,” you finally said, crossing your arms. “That was a lot of feelings all at once.”

Sanji ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I don’t—tch—just—forget it.”

You tilted your head, then, grinning walked right up to him.

Sanji stiffened as you reached up, gently flicking his tie. “Y’know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts with every woman he sees, you sure lose your mind when the attention isn’t on you.”

Sanji’s jaw clenched. “That’s different.”

You raised a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes.” His eyes met yours, blue and burning with something raw. “Because it’s you.”

That wiped the smirk off your face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with a final scoff, Sanji turned back to the stove. “Just sit down, alright? I made dinner.”

You step back a bit, but your chest felt a little warmer. “ Are you making it just for me?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “Shut up.”

————

There are endless lists of moments Sanji fell in love with you. Like how he usually took care of people with food. The way you took care of him never ceases to make him love you more. The battlefield was still. The fight was over, the enemy long defeated, but your heart was still pounding.

Because where was he?

Your eyes scanned the wreckage, searching, ignoring the aches in your own body. The second you spotted the familiar flash of blonde Sanji, standing a few feet away, wiping blood from his lip your feet moved.

“Sanji!”

He barely had time to react before you reached him, hands immediately running over his arms, his chest, checking for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” You tilted his face up, frowning at the bruise forming on his cheek. “Damn it, Sanji, why do you never dodge”

A gasp slipped from his lips as he stared at you. “I—what?”

“You always get hit,” you scolded, brushing a bit of blood away from his jaw. “You know you don’t have to take every hit for someone else, right?”

Sanji blinked. It wasn’t like you to fuss over him. Sure, you flirted, teased, challenged him but this? This was new.

“You’re hurt, too,” he finally said, frowning as he spotted the scrape along your arm. His fingers brushed over it, eyes darkening slightly. “You should—”

“I’ll be fine.” You waved him off, still checking him over. “you’re always my first priority, okay?”

Sanji stopped breathing.

The world around him seemed to fade. The sound of the crew celebrating, the distant crash of waves it was all gone.

All that existed was you.

Your hands were still on his chest, completely oblivious to the way his heart was slamming against his ribs.

“…Sanji?”

Your voice snapped him out of it.

He exhaled sharply, shaking off the insane urge to just grab you, kiss you, do something. Instead, he covered his flustered expression with a lopsided grin.

“You really can’t resist touching me, huh?” He smirked, though it was weaker than usual. “I knew you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”

But the way you smiled at him relieved, warm, real Sanji decided he’d let you fuss over him forever.

———

It was the next day and Sanji wasn’t on the ship. He had gone exploring with Nami and Usopp, leaving the kitchen blissfully empty. Normally, you wouldn’t dare enter his domain without permission, but today was different.

Today, you had a plan. You were going to cook for him. Wasn’t it him that said the way someone cooks for people is how you learn about a person or whatever?

It wasn’t anything extravagant just a simple dish you’d seen him make before. But as you stood over the stove, carefully chopping ingredients (only slightly unevenly) and stirring the sauce (definitely not burning it this time), you felt something odd.

Nervousness.

Why were you nervous? You and Sanji flirted all the time, teased each other relentlessly, but this… this felt different. More personal.

You sighed, shaking off the thought. He cooks for everyone all the time. This isn’t a big deal. Except it was, and you knew it.

By the time Sanji returned, the dish was plated neatly on the counter. You were wiping your hands on a towel, pretending not to be hyperaware of how fast your heart was beating.

Sanji stepped into the kitchen, stretching. “Mmm, what’s that smell—?” He froze.

His eyes landed on the plate. Then on you. His brain short circuited.

“Did you…?” He pointed at the food. “Is this—?”

You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah. I, uh… made it for you.”

Sanji’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest wanting come barrelling towards you. His entire face went red. “You—” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair like he had no idea what to do with himself. “You cooked? For me?”

You shifted awkwardly. “Well, yeah. You’re always the one feeding everyone, so I thought… you know.”

Silence. Then, Sanji dragged a hand down his face, clearly struggling.

You had never seen him at a loss for words before.

You smirked, trying to break the tension. “What, cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Sanji looked at you, blue eyes flickering between the food and your face like he was witnessing something too much for his heart to handle.

“You’re… really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered.

Before you could respond, a loud THUMP shook the kitchen.

“I SMELL FOOD!!”

Luffy’s massive form barreled into the room, eyes locked onto the plate like a starving wolf.

In an instant, Sanji snapped out of his daze. “DON’T YOU DARE, YOU GREEDY BASTARD—”

But before Luffy could make a move, BAM!

Zoro’s arm shot out, holding Luffy back with one hand while the rubber idiot flailed desperately. “LET ME GO, IT LOOKS SO GOOOOD—”

Zoro sighed, straining slightly to hold him in place. “Not this time, moron.”

Sanji cracked his knuckles, looking murderous. “If you so much as breathe near that plate, I swear on everything, Luffy—”

Luffy whined. “BUT I’M HUNGRYYYY.”

Zoro smirked, glancing between you and Sanji. “Let the lovebirds have their moment.”

Sanji choked. You nearly threw the nearest pan at Zoro’s head.

“IT’S NOT—WE’RE NOT—”

Zoro just walked away, still holding a wailing Luffy back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Enjoy your date, cook.”

The kitchen fell into silence again.

Sanji coughed into his fist, refusing to meet your eyes. You could still see the pink dusting his cheeks.

You sighed, sitting on the counter. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Sanji hesitated, then finally sat across from you. His expression softened as he looked at the meal you’d made.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual. “Really.”

You shrugged, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Just eat it before it gets cold, yeah?”

He smiled. A real, soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

And as he took his first bite, you swore you’d never seen him happier.

Sanji took his time with the meal you’d made for him, savoring every bite like it was the finest dish in the world. He didn’t scarf it down like Luffy would’ve no, he was gentle with it, like he knew how much effort you had put in.

And honestly? Watching him enjoy it sent a strange warmth through your chest. Maybe that’s why he does this.

He set his fork down with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a napkin before finally looking at you. His eyes held something different now something real.

“That was incredible,” he murmured. “Not just the food. The fact that you… did this for me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it, alright?”

Sanji chuckled, shaking his head. “Too late.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. You could still hear Luffy and Usopp messing around outside, Zoro’s occasional annoyed grunts, the gentle sway of the Merry on the waves.

“Can I ask you something?” Sanji’s voice was softer now, hesitant.

You glanced at him. “What’s up?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment before exhaling, as if bracing himself. Then, he met your gaze, and all of his usual flirtatious bravado was gone.

“I… want to be with you,” he admitted, voice steady but genuine. “Not just as a game. Not just as some girl I flirt with and move on from. You.”

Your breath hitched slightly. You hadn’t expected this. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that this was just another one of his smooth lines. But there was nothing just pure, raw honesty.

Still, you had to be sure.

“You say that now,” you murmured, watching him carefully. “But what about the next pretty girl you see? The next chance to throw around your charms?”

Sanji’s jaw tightened. He stood up, stepping closer, his gaze intense. “You think I’d risk everything, risk you for some meaningless flirting?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

“I don’t just like you,” he continued, voice lower now, more serious than you’d ever heard him. “I adore you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you fight, the way you drive me absolutely insane in the best way.”

Your heart pounded.

Sanji’s fingers brushed against yours on the counter, tentative, like he was waiting for permission.

“You’re not just another girl to me,” he murmured. “You never were.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly knocked the wind out of you.

You let out a breath, glancing at your entwined fingers before looking back at him. “…Promise me.”

Sanji didn’t hesitate. “On my life.”

The weight of his words settled between you. Then, finally, finally, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Sanji froze. His face exploded in red, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like his brain had completely shut down.

You smirked. “Speechless?”

He made a strangled sound, gripping the counter for support. “I—You—Mon dieu.”

You laughed, shaking your head before lacing your fingers through his. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s go before Luffy breaks in here again.”

Sanji blinked rapidly, trying to reboot his system. Then, he squeezed your hand, a dazed but ridiculously happy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” he breathed, still looking like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Let’s go.”

——

The sun dipped low over the deck, bathing everything in warm hues of gold and orange. The crew lounged, basking in the afterglow of yet another victory. Luffy was inhaling food like he hadn’t just eaten an hour ago, Usopp was dramatically retelling the battle with enough embellishments to make a playwright jealous, and Zoro was leaning against the mast, arms crossed, eyes shut.

And you? You were watching him. Sanji, leaning against the railing, cigarette between his lips, looking effortlessly cool. As always. It was obnoxious. After everything, the battles, the tension, the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, you decided… why not mess with him a little?

So, without a word, you strolled up to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Just like that. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Then, before he could react, you pulled back, patted his cheek with a smirk, and murmured, “Thanks for being safe, Sanji.” And then you walked away. Silence. Not a normal silence. A deafening, stunned silence. The crew froze. Sanji? Sanji malfunctioned. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, landing on the deck with a faint hiss. His entire body locked up, lips still parted like his brain had left the building.

“HUH???” Luffy choked, rice spilling from his mouth.

Usopp smacked his own face. “Did—did they just—DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

Zoro cracked one eye open, and muttered, “Well, they’re actually doing it.”

Meanwhile, you were casually leaning against the mast, trying very hard not to laugh as you watched Sanji’s brain actively rebooting.

And then Sanji moved. No he stormed straight for you. Before you could react, his hands grabbed yours, yanking you close in one fluid motion. “Oh, you’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dangerously low.

Your smirk faltered slightly. “…Sanji?”

“You think you can just do that?” His hands slid up your arms, firm, possessive. “You think you can just kiss me and walk away? take me serious”

You swallowed. “I mean—”

Sanji cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

His voice dropped, smooth as silk, deadly as sin.“Try pulling something like that again, love, and I’ll make sure you never get a chance to walk away.” Your breath hitched.

The crew? Losing their minds. “OH MY GOD???” Usopp shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Luffy yelled, food completely forgotten. Nami just sighed, shaking her head. “Finally.” Zoro? well that man fell back asleep. For the first time in your life speechless. Sanji? Sanji smirked. Because for once he won this round.

—

You snorted. “Oh please, if I wanted you, you’d already be mine.”

Sanji grinned, tilting his head. “That so?”

“Obviously.” The banter was light, familiar comfortable. The kind of thing that had become second nature between the two of you.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”You both froze. Slowly, your heads turned to see Zoro walking past, completely unfazed, his sword slung over his shoulder.

Sanji choked. “EXCUSE ME?”

Your brain short circuited. “WHAT??”

Zoro, not even looking back, just shrugged. “You guys are basically already there. Might as well make it official.”

Sanji exploded.“ARE YOU INSANE?! You can’t just say something like that, YOU ABSOLUTE MUSCLE HEADED JACKASS!” His face was red, You, meanwhile, were dying.

“Zoro, what the hell?!” you sputtered, half laughing, half horrified.

Zoro just yawned. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

From across the deck, Usopp cackled. “He’s got a point.”

Nami, sipping her drink, smirked. “Honestly, we were all just waiting for someone to say it out loud.”

Luffy, in true Luffy fashion, grinned. “wait so are you both…. doing it?”

Sanji made a sound that was borderline inhuman. “LUFFY, NO.”

You covered your face, trying and failing not to laugh. “I hate all of you.”

Sanji, still sputtering, ran a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Zoro just smirked. “You’re welcome.” And with that, he walked away. Leaving the two of you standing there, stunned, mortified.

—

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, the only sounds left being the gentle lapping of waves and the faint creaking of the ship. You, however, were not sleeping. Instead, you were standing outside the men’s quarters, arms crossed, staring at the door like it had personally wronged you. Because Zoro’s words from earlier were still rattling around in your head.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong and that was why, before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked. There was silence, then a shuffling sound before the door cracked open revealing a very tired, very shirtless Sanji. His hair was messy, his tie discarded, and good lord he was wearing sweatpants.

You almost lost your nerve right then and there.

He blinked at you, rubbing his eyes. “Sweetheart? What are you doing here?”

You cleared your throat, trying very hard to keep your gaze above his collarbone. “Uh. Can I come in?”

Sanji raised a brow but stepped aside, letting you enter. The room was dimly lit, empty besides his neatly made bed and the scent of cigarettes lingering in the air.

He closed the door behind you. “Alright, what’s—”

“I think we should listen to Zoro.”

Sanji blinked. “ew what?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We should just… do it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sanji.exe had stopped working.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

You crossed your arms, feigning confidence. “You heard me.” Sanji stared. His mouth opened then closed. Opened again. Nothing came out. his face exploded into red.

“WWAIT, HOLD ON, YOU CAN’T JUST—” He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide like you’d just set off a bomb. “Are you—do you—do you even know what you’re saying right now?!”

You smile, stepping closer. “What, you get to flirt all day, but I can’t be upfront?”

Sanji backed up instinctively, nearly tripping over his own bed. “That’s—! This is—!!”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What’s wrong, Sanji?”

He whimpered. Actually whimpered. His hands were gripping the sheets like a lifeline, breathing erratic. “You can’t just waltz in here and say things like that! I have a weak heart!”

You bit back a laugh. “Weak heart, huh?” You leaned down, tilting your head. “Then should I leave?” Sanji grabbed your wrist before you could even move.

“…Don’t you dare.”

The air in the room shifted. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was how his grip on you had tightened, how the teasing in his eyes had turned into something else entirely.

“…Sanji?”

His hand lifted, fingers tracing gently over your wrist. “You really want this?” His voice was quieter now, more serious.

You met his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

And with that, your fate was sealed.

Sanji’s lips lingered against your knuckles, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your spine. His usual playfulness had melted away, leaving something real, something that made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t used to. Your heart pounded. You had started flirting with him all the way back as a joke just to mess with him, to see if he’d break like he always did. But now?Now you were the one who couldn’t breathe. Sanji lifted his gaze, his thumb brushing against your wrist. His voice was softer now, the teasing gone. “Say it again.”

You swallowed. “Say what?”

“That you want this.” His grip tightened, not forceful, but firm. “That you want me.

It should’ve been easy. You flirted with him all the time. This should’ve been just another game, another battle to see who would crack first. But looking at him now the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes searched yours with something dangerously close to hope this wasn’t a game anymore. You took a shaky breath. “I want this.” Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him. Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him.

“…Say it again,” he murmured, almost desperate.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb trace over his cheek. “I want you, Sanji.”

That was all it took. A groan left his lips, and before you could process it, his hands were on you gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his forehead pressed against yours as he shook with the effort of holding himself back.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered, breathless. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his messy blonde hair. “I have an idea.” Sanji let out a low chuckle then, with a sudden rush, he flipped you onto the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he caged you beneath him, arms braced on either side of your head.

“I’ve spent so long waiting for this,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “Thinking you were just teasing, that you’d never really…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You grinned, hands trailing down his chest. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Sanji groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Silence. Sanji froze. Your breath caught. “What did you just say?”

His entire body locked up. “…Nothing.”

You smirked. “Sanji.”

He refused to lift his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You totally did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Sanji. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head, cheeks bright red.

You smiled. “Say it again.”

He groaned, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

But he still whispered it against your skin, soft and genuine. “…I love you.”

—

It was the next morning the room was dimly lit, the gentle sway of the ship rocking beneath you as you and Sanji were lost in each other. His hands traced along your skin, slow and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you. His breath was warm against your collarbone, lips trailing lazy kisses up your neck, stopping just beneath your ear.

“Mon amour,” he murmured, voice thick with devotion, “you’re intoxicating, you know that?”

You hummed, fingers slipping through his golden hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to get enough.”

Sanji let out a breathless chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can you blame me?” His fingers trailed down your spine, setting your nerves alight. “You’re—” He kissed you deeply, swallowing the words before they could leave his lips. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his hands held you so carefully, like you were something precious. Every touch, every kiss was a promise one that you could feel down to your bones.

“Sanji…” you whispered against his lips, feeling his breath hitch as you ran your hands down his chest, your own teasing smirk forming as you

SLAM!

“HA! I KNEW IT!”

You and Sanji froze. Slowl horrifyingly you turned your heads toward the doorway. Usopp stood there, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in pure shock.

A beat of dead silence. Then processing just exactly what he caught and “knew” “OH MY GOD!”

Usopp screamed, immediately throwing his hands over his face like that would somehow erase what he had just seen. “I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES—OH GOD—WHY—”

“GET OUT!!!” Sanji roared, grabbing the nearest object a pillow and hurling it at him.

But Usopp was already gone, sprinting down the hall at full speed. “NAMI!! I SAW IT! I SAW IT, AND I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT—” The door slammed shut again. Silence. Sanji, breathing heavily, still had his arm mid throw, his face burning scarlet.

You, equally red, slowly buried your face in your hands. “…Well.”

Sanji collapsed back against the mattress, groaning. “Does anyone knock or have courtesy?”

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “we’re on a pirate ship, I think manners left the minute he stepped on”

From somewhere down the hall, Usopp could still be heard wailing. Sanji groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “…I’m moving to another ship.”

lol my last day of vacation and i’m about to go home but as it is a 10 flight i shall leave you with this. I also reach the text box limit and now some sections look squishy 😔

Sanji: heh... step aside ladies... let a real man handle this (does the exact same thing but worse)

[slutzforbueckers]

22 in action smut with sub p

tie me down, don’t leave my side

♡—pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: smut

♡— synopsis: paige just wants to be tied down and who are you to deny her that.

♡— a/n: i’m so sorry it took so long hopefully you enjoy it!

❥•°❀°•༢

Eat me up like apple pie

Make me not wanna die

Love me rough and let me fly

Get me up, yeah, get me high

Tie me down, don't leave my side

you and paige stumbled into the bedroom, lips attached in a fiery kiss, hands roaming each others bodies because neither of you knew what to touch. the door shut behind her and you pressed her against it instantly, mouth trailing down her jaw in a wet, uncoordinated fashion. paige gasped as you marked her as yours, your teeth grazing her sweet spot.

“want more,” she panted as her hands started unbuttoning your jeans, her hips pushing forward into nothingness. you hummed against her skin because she never had to ask for more, you always gave her everything she didn’t know she needed.

you lifted your head and cupped her jaw, tilting her head back towards you. the blue in her eyes was almost gone from how turned on she was, her pupils were dilated. you leaned in closer—close enough you could feel her breath on your lips. “tell me what you want.”

“tie me down—” paige paused for a moment—she knew what she wanted, she knew what her body was aching for, but she was hesitant to tell you. your thumb smoothed over her sharp jaw and you waited for her to finish. “all the way this time. be rough. please?”

you blinked at her, somewhat stunned, because you’d only ever experimented with bondage a couple times and even then you only went as far as tying the wrist. your hand dropped from her face and you grabbed her waist. “you sure?

“yes—i trust you.” she whispered as her hands moved to rest on your waist. your heart squeezed tight at her words and you kissed her hard. the kiss was short lived as you tugged her off the door and leaded her to the bed. the back of her legs hit the bed but she didn’t fall back.

your fingers gripped the bottom of her shirt and you pulled it over her head—her bra went next, then your fingers were hooking into her pants, pushing them down. her hands steadied on your shoulders so she didn’t tip over whenever she kicked her pants and boxers off her ankles.

you stepped back to take her in—completely bare now, skin flushed, chest heaving, her thighs already pressing together from how worked up she was. paige looked at you with hungry eyes, like she’d drop to her knees for you in a second if you asked—and she would, in a heartbeat.

“lay back.” you told her, voice low but gentle. she obeyed without hesitation, crawling back until she was centered on the mattress. she laid flat, arms above her head, eyes tracking your every move. you walked to the closet and rummaged through a few boxes in the back before finding the ropes—bringing out a small vibe as well. paige bit her lip when she saw the familiar coil of soft, purple rope in your hand.

you climbed onto the bed and settled beside her, straddling her waist as you leaned over her to loop the rope around her wrists. your fingers moved confidently, securing her wrist to the bedpost. she didn’t flinch—if anything, she melted further into the bed. “color?” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“green,” she whispered. “so fucking green.”

you kissed the corner of her mouth in approval, then moved down her body—slow, your lips brushing across her collarbones, her tits, the expanse of her stomach. when you reached her legs you pulled them apart and used the remaining rope to bond her ankles to the foot of the bed.

paige gasped softly at the new position, her stomach already fluttering. you bit your lip at the sight of her cunt on display—soft, already dripping with need. you kissed up the inside of her thigh and the muscles in her thighs jumped.

“still green?” you asked, making sure everything was still good before you continued.

“still green.”

you hummed in content and your hands gripped her thighs, your fingers pressing into her skin like she could move away. something in paige felt vulnerable, she was so open for you—exposed and waiting. she couldn’t touch you, couldn’t pull you closer—all she could do was take what you gave her, feel it all.

she could feel your breath fanning over her cunt but when you leaned in closer and dragged your tongue through her folds, she choked on a gasp like she’d been shocked. you did it again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. your tongue flicked over her clit and her moan was immediate, desperate.

“oh my god—please—” her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand as she tried to ground herself. she was soaked—wetter than usual—and you lapped up everything you could, moaning softly as her slick coated your tongue.

you slid your hands under her ass and pulled her closer as you gently sucked her clit. paige’s back arched from the bed as much as it could. she whined as her head tipped back into the mattress, her fingers twitching against the ropes—she wanted her to touch you so bad it made her want to scream. her body jerked as you circled her entrance with your tongue, just teasing. you felt her clench around nothing—once, then twice.

“fuck—fuck, i can’t—“ she cried out, voice breaking with moans she couldn’t keep down. her hands and legs were useless, she couldn’t grind into you, couldn’t pull away—all she could do was take it. you could tell she was getting close, her thighs were starting to tremble but before she could finish you pulled away.

paige sobbed out a moan at the loss of contact, her body curling in on herself despite the bindings keeping her in place. her chest heaved, nipples hard, lips parted, her eyes blinking open in disbelief. you ran your hands along the back of her thighs as you pressed a soft kiss to her clit—pressing just enough to make her suck in a sharp breath.

“you gonna be good for me?” you muttered into her skin as you dragged your lips along her hip bone. paige nodded quickly, her eyes fluttering shut again. your breath was hot against her skin, it made her stomach tense and her breathing pick up, sharp jolts of arousal shooting through her spine.

you tongue darted out and trailed a wet stripe to her belly button. you moved back up her body, stopping for a moment to leave small marks on her chest. your fingers ghosted over her inner thigh but you didn’t touch her where she needed you, not yet.

“please, baby, touch me. i need more.” she whined, hips tilting forward to try and gain some type of friction but it was useless. you smirked as you came face to face with her, your eyes falling onto her lips.

“i am touching you.” you teased. you liked her like this—spread out for you, giving her body up for the night, whining and writhing like she’d die if you didn’t do something. you leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, until she was breathless beneath you—until her moan got caught in your mouth when you finally ran your fingers through her folds. “you’ll take everything i give you, yeah?”

“mhm.” she breathed out, trying to keep what little control over herself she had. paige watched as you leaned back and reached for her small vibrator you set off to the side. her eyes widened slightly as she watched you trail it down her stomach. you didn’t turn it on right away—you just dragged it over her heated skin and watched as she shivered.

“you’re so wet,” you said, voice low and admiring. you slid the toy between her folds before nestling it right against her clit and you finally turned it on—clicking it to the medium setting. the vibrations made her back arch, eyes squeezing shut as it hit all at once.

“oh fuck—fuck, that’s—” paige couldn’t even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed already. her legs tried to close on instinct but the ropes kept her wide open. you watched her squirm, watched her try to push into it for more.

you lowered yourself between her legs and slid the toy down to her entrance, pressing it into her as you wrapped your lips around her clit. she whimpered, tears starting to pool in her eyes. she was already so worked up, not being able to touch made everything feel so much more intense.

you sucked her clit into your mouth again, hard enough she let out a desperate scream, her head pressing back into the mattress. she looked down at you, moaning again at the look in your eyes—hungry, filled with lust, like you wanted to eat her alive. she tasted so good you just might try to.

she was already close again—thighs trembling, eyes rolling back, lips parted as she let out moan after moan. her walls clenched around the toy as it pulsed inside her. “m’so close—baby, please—please.”

her voice was rough with need, body aching from wanting that orgasm so bad. you flicked your tongue over her clit and her moans only grew. the thought of pulling away just to hear that high, desperate whine crossed your mind but the way she looked and sounded as she fell apart was way too good to pass up again.

she was gasping at this point— trying to catch her breath even though it was constantly being knocked from her lungs. she fisted her hands, her fingernails digging into her palms so hard she could’ve drawn blood. you moaned against her clit, sucking even harder, one hand pinning her hip down as the other held the toy perfectly in place. “doing so good for me, baby. let go, let me taste you.”

paige let out a guttural moan as her back arched, legs fighting against the rope as she tipped over the edge. you quickly pulled the vibrator out and replaced it with your fingers, groaning at how easily they slid in. paige nearly screamed when you curled your fingers against her sweet spot.

if she could she’d be gripping your hair, pulling you closer and pushing you away at the same time, and her thighs would be clamped tight around your head. but right now, she couldn’t do any of that—she had no control and it made her orgasm feel so much stronger. her walls fluttered around your fingers, her cum dripping down your fingers.

you helped her ride it out until she was panting, legs still slightly trembling as she relaxed against the pillows. your tongue was sliding through her folds the second you removed your fingers—paige whimpered but let you continue.

you hummed in satisfaction as you finished cleaning up the mess she made and finally lifted your head. paige looked down at you with low eyes, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth when you placed your fingers in your mouth and sucked them clean.

“oh my god—“ paige groaned and let her head fall back again. you smirked and pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh before sitting up completely. you quietly untied her legs and gently messaged the spot where the rope had been wrapped around her ankles. after you did that you moved up her body and gave her a short kiss on the lips before untying her wrist and doing the same thing you did to her ankles.

“you did so good for me, p.” you muttered as you brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. her arms went around your shoulders immediately and she pulled you down for a kiss. you breathed out a laugh against her mouth because you knew she’d been wanting to do that since you tied her down.

“my legs feel like jello.” she mumbled, blinking up at you as a small smile formed on her face.

“yeah? you want me to run a bath?”

“only if you get in with me,” she whispered, voice still hazy and wrecked.

you smiled and kissed her again—slow, lingering, just because you could. “yeah, baby. i got you.”

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[jlle-marie]

Nothing in my head except the unhurried life Levi would finally get to experience after the war. And the unhurried sex you both finally get to indulge in — Post-war Levi / Fem Reader | cw: set in canon, established relationship, very soft and sweet, fluff and smut (wc: 2.7k~)

The afternoon sun poured gently through the open window, casting a warm, golden haze across the room. The curtains shifted with the breeze, letting in the scent of sun-warmed earth and something faintly floral. The kind of fragrance that clings to your long afternoons with Levi, when time seems to stretch, weightless and unhurried.

It started with slow afternoons at home. The couch. The bed. Anywhere comfortable for these quiet moments you both began to crave.

It didn’t feel like losing time.

For Levi, spending an entire day indoors felt unnatural. He tried not to make a habit of it, but it was so peaceful and so, so soothing to his weary body — a kind of comfort neither of you, especially him, had ever truly known. He never thought he would see the day where an afternoon would be entirely dedicated to lying in bed, talking or just reading with you.

But just like that, he was slowly starting to get used to it.

You were reclined against the headboard, not quite sitting up, the thin strap of your tank top had slipped loose, baring the smooth slope of your shoulder where the light lingered.

A book rested in your hands, open but forgotten for a moment as your gaze drifted, half-lidded, to the man beside you. Levi lay sprawled at your side, his head resting against the slope of your stomach, just low enough that your ribs lifted gently with each breath.

His own book was open too, balanced carelessly on his chest. The sunlight did him every kind of favor. Kissing and softening his dark strands where they splayed across your skin.

Levi shifted, turning his face just enough to press a gentle kiss to your lower stomach, where your top had ridden up. Right where his head had been resting before.

You smiled to yourself. Savoring the lingering warmth that spread slowly from where his lips had touched, long after he’d settled back against you.

Letting the silence stretch just a beat longer, you finally spoke in a quiet, teasing voice. “Hm, what was that for?”

Levi huffed, a quiet breath of amusement and didn’t answer right away.

“You complaining?” His eyes stayed on the page, still pretending to read. Though you could see his focus wavering. The way his thumb hovered near the edge but never turned the page.

“Oh, you know I would never.” You smiled, your own book dipping slightly as your fingers drifted down, tracing lightly through his hair.

Levi smiled and leaned into your touch with a contented exhale, finally tipping his head back just enough to catch your gaze.

He moved the book aside, his free hand lifting your top just enough to bare a little more of your stomach skin, his arm coming to rest across your waist. You could feel the subtle strength in his embrace, the kind that always made you feel safe. Reminding you that even now, after everything he has been through, some things about him would never change.

“Like I need a reason? If you want compliments then your skin is soft — like always. The sun warmed it nicely. And you smell good, that new soap suits you,” he said, voice low and lazy.

“And because you love me,” you quickly quipped but he saw through your little game and wouldn’t give in so easily.

“You know, my book was interesting too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

With a deliberate nod, he continued. “Not as much as you, though.”

Finally a small victory.

“Why?” you asked, voice light with amusement.

“Because you’re beautiful. I never get tired of looking at you.” He answered, his voice softening in a way that made your chest tighten. But you weren’t still perfectly satisfied.

“Beautiful?” you echoed, grinning as you struggled to contain your amusement.

He sighed inwardly. You really were getting spoiled, he thought fondly. “Exquisite,” he corrected himself.

You tugged gently at his hair, earning a soft chuckle from him this time, clearly entertained by your determination. But the expectant glint in your eyes and your smug little smile — he had already lost.

“I do love you,” he murmured against your skin.

To your surprise, intimacy grew between you. A new kind of one. There were many things to adjust in your life now, many changes, but something changed. Everything became a pretext for affection. Both of you needed more physical connection. Levi knew you by heart. The little things that made you who you were, what you loved, what you didn’t. And now, having the time to discover it all even more deeply, it quickly became his favorite thing.

That… and your body. Worshipping it, exploring it in the ways he’d always wished before.

Just everything about you.

When it came to more serious things, though, there was always a flicker of hesitation in him — a hint of nervousness. Something you’d never seen in him before. His body was injured. He wasn’t sure what he could still do or what limits he now had. But now you have time. Time to figure it all out together.

Yet today, something in his demeanor was different. He seemed more confident.

And he desired you.

You could feel it by the way he kept kissing your stomach. The way his breath came warmer, heavier now, fanning over your skin between each lingering kiss. The way he thumbed your ribs, your chest, trying to memorize you by touch. By the way he untied your shorts to reach lower destinations. The way his fingers gently parted your thighs — to which your legs immediately gave in.

“I want you… a lot,” you mumbled. Oh you were weak, so weak for him, especially when he was the one to take the lead. Just a few touches from his lips and hands were all it took for your fingers to twist in his hair.

“Want you too… always want you,” he answered slowly into your skin between kisses, his gaze dragging up to meet yours.

It was so satisfying for him to see you so affected, he always felt grateful for it. He cherished every one of your reactions, every single sound. He cherished you, valued you so, so much. His hands slid higher under your top, cupping the soft weight of your breasts, feeling the hardening nipples against his palms. You breathed in, moaning softly and he was already in complete awe of your body’s responses.

Soon enough, what little skin was exposed had nothing more to offer. And there were still far too many layers between you, much to both your dismay. Levi’s hands made quick work of your clothing, pushing your top up and over your head, then tugging your shorts down — followed closely by his owns.

In a matter of moments, you were bare before him except for your panties. Levi’s fingers brushed against the lace fabric, sliding lower until they met the dampness that had already gathered here. Realizing how needy you already were. Moist lips moved languidly along your inner thigh, while the pad of his thumb circled your clit. With just, just enough pressure to draw the prettiest gasps and moans from your lips and the cutest buck from your hips.

“Don’t move,” he rasped, his voice caught between a warning and a sigh, as if you were interrupting his pleasure.

“You’re teasing…” you whispered.

As if he had a reason to stop. No, not when you whimpered like that for him. He nipped the skin of your inner thigh, soothing it with the flat of his tongue.

“I’m not,” he answered, meeting your eyes with a small smile. “No more rushing. I don’t ever want to rush it now.”

He was right. Oh sure he was. And you didn’t want to rush him either. But the building heat between your thighs told a different story. You reached out to gently stroke his hair to which he hummed softly.

With one final sloppy kiss, Levi pulled back and shimmered your panties down your legs. “But alright, I’ll give you what you want.” He knew it wouldn’t be enough, not today. Not enough to fulfill his needs for you. Neither to make you feel as good as you needed to. You both needed more.

So instead of leaning between your thighs again, he leaned back from you. Laying fully on his back, head resting over a pillow. “Come here...” he said, grabbing your hips and guiding you until you’ve got a knee either side of his face. “It will be more comfortable for me.”

You glanced down at his face with wide eyes. “You won’t be able to breathe!” You wanted to worry about him but it was also so, so good already. His warm breath brushing against your heated, intimate skin. And at the very first, slightest friction you fought the urge to grind down harder against him. Sensing your hesitation, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. Tugging you down and pressing you more firmly against his mouth. Tongue, lips and nose working together, stimulating all the right places at the same time.

“Levi,” you yelped, your fingers curling in his hair to pull his head back slightly and he looked almost offended. “Don’t hold back. I’m not that weak,” he quipped. It pulled a small laugh from your lips just before he yanked you down again and urged your movements.

At the first roll of your hips, his gaze flicked up to yours, strikingly expressive. That burning intensity, such need, such love. Like you were offering him the greatest gift and he was devoted to showing his gratitude. Words were impossible for you to form, the back and forth of your hips grinding against his mouth, his nose, were only spilling a mess and sighs from your lips.

In this moment, he wished he still saw the world with both eyes — if only to witness the way pleasure bloomed across your face.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, the words muffled against your flesh. “Exactly like that.” It spurred him on, his own hips rocking up behind you involuntarily. And if you weren’t holding the headboard so desperately you’d already have reached behind and wrapped one hand around his length, just to hear his groans. To feel more of his slippery moans vibrating against you. Judging by the soft, uncontrolled buck of his hips, you were sure his tip was already coated, leaking. Oh, how fiercely he was enjoying this — you. And how desperately you wanted him, feel that throbbing length between your thighs, inside you—

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes fluttered closed, hiding from you the pleased expression on his face as he drank in you. Steady hands easing the jerky movements of your hips, silently demanding you to keep going, to take what you needed from him. Your own hands gripping the headboard for support so tightly, seeking more of his mouth, chasing the pleasure he was giving you. Moans of his name and a torrent of praises tumbled from your lips. And honestly, you were glad you two finally lived alone because you were shamelessly loud and he wasn’t exactly quiet either.

Levi guided your hips back gently, shifting you down his body until you were lying on top of him. Wrapping one arm around your trembling form, he stroked your hair, your back. His burning skin gave you all the warmth and comfort you could need. Your hands wandered across every place of his body you could reach.

His hand slid up to your face, tilting your chin so he could look at you. “You’re tired?” he asked, voice a little rough as he caught his breath too.

You shook your head. Your loving gaze roaming his face, taking in his satisfied expression and glistening chin. How truly beautiful he was. Peace looked good on him. It was almost unfair — looking so angelic as if he hadn’t just reduced you to nothing but a breathless mess. Admiring him, you didn’t notice the subtle yet swift flex of his hips until you felt the head of his cock slipping inside you. How sneaky of him. You whined softly in surprise, but he had already entered. Easily, oh so easily.

You laughed softly. “I thought you said we had time…” It was only half serious, you were aching to feel him just as he was. And you couldn’t deny him when he was so desperate for you. You would give him everything and more.

“We do,” he assured, his hand cupping your cheek as little by little, he sheathed fully inside you. Oh he didn’t tell you that it was because he was so close it was almost painful. That he had been on the very edge since your thighs squeezed his face.

So when you enveloped him, he nearly came. His hand moved to the back of your head, dragging you closer, mouth crashing into yours to keep a whimper from slipping out. His heels dug in the mattress to give you slow and deep strokes — enough to perfectly feel you but also not to release everything too quickly. “Feels s’good,” you mumbled. He chased after your lips, finding them again, needing you like air to breathe. “Yeah it does,” he replied into the kiss. “You feel incredible.”

Meeting his thrusts, the pace increased, following the same rhythm you had set above his face earlier. Taking him deep, pulling back and sinking down to engulf him once more. Again and again. Setting for a pace that had you both panting and moaning into each other’s mouth. The sensations blurred together, everything melting away — except the way you were clamping down around him, pulling him deeper and deeper, and the way he was pulsing, stroking your insides relentlessly.

It hit you both at the same time. The pleasure crashed over you, turning everything messy, breathy, desperate. Your hearts pounded in tandem with violent intensity. It dragged out, long and overwhelming — a proof that there was no rush anymore.

Nowhere to be but here.

It took you a while before it started to subside, before the world settled back into focus. Outside, the distant chirping of birds could reach your ears again. The sensation of the sheets beneath you — that probably need a change now — barely registered, and it didn’t matter anyway. The other set was probably already dry on the clothesline outside by now.

It was too good, too easy to just lay on him, your forehead kissed tenderly, your bodies still tangled, his chest rising and falling beneath you. And the flow of sweet nothings that spilled from both your lips. Reminding you that he was no longer a soldier — he belonged to you now. He wanted to. He wanted to be devoted to you. And his time, his warmth, all of him was finally yours to keep.

“…The sheets are a mess, we’ve just changed them,” you finally said, your voice muffled against his skin.

He hummed, pretending to consider it. “Not my fault,” he teased.

You pulled back to glare up at him, incredulous, but you laughed softly. He looked a little too smug for someone who very much had been part of the wreckage. You shifted a little, still a bit boneless and warm from him, and mumbled, “I’ll get the fresh ones.” Before he can argue, you slipped off the bed and threw on Levi’s shirt.

When you returned, the bundle of clean sheets over your arms, you caught Levi’s lazy, satisfied gaze. You started pulling at the messy sheets, trying to gather them at the foot of the bed. You worked efficiently, but with a playfulness that made the mundane task feel intimate. Before you could finish, a firm hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you down with a low, amused grunt. You fell on the bed with a soft laugh, the clean sheets forgotten for now, as Levi pulled you against him with greedy hands, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Just the two of you together, tangled in bed — where you belonged.

crossposted on ao3 ♡

my masterlist ♡

[keeryhours]

Masterlist

Sucking Eddie’s cock is an experience. Every time.

He’s so weak for it. When you get on your knees in front of him he groans immediately, eyes half lidded as he watches you kneel before him. He watches as your hands unbuckle his belt before undoing the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. He lifts his hips for you to help you pull his pants and boxers down and release his cock, thick length slapping against his stomach and precum already leaking from the tip.

“God, princess, y’look so pretty on your knees for me.”

When you wrap your hand around his cock, it twitches in your hold, his hips involuntarily thrusting up into your fist. You slowly drag it along his length, his cock smooth and soft while also impossibly hard. Your thumb pays extra attention to the vein on the underside of his dick, just the way he likes.

“Fuuuuck. Shit, that feels good. Yeah, keep moving your hand jus’ like that. Stroke that big dick, baby.”

He knows he’s huge. He gets off on watching you struggle with it, the way your hand can’t wrap all the way around it, the way you gag and choke taking it down your throat, the way tears roll down your face as he stretches you out around him.

“Too big for you, princess? C’mon, you can take it. You always do.”

When you wrap your lips around his tip, he sighs in relief, hand tangling in your hair. He pushes you down on him, thrusts his hips up into your mouth, watching the way you gag and sputter around him, struggling to take him all.

“Fuck, yeah. Yes baby. Thas’ it. So fuckin’ sexy with my big cock in your mouth. You can barely fit it, can’t you, baby? ‘s okay, you’re doing so good. Taking me so well.”

His praise only spurs you on, and you open your mouth as wide as possible as you lower your head, taking every inch of him until your nose is pressed against the curls at his base. He thrusts up into your mouth again, and you quickly pull off, making him laugh darkly.

“C’mon princess, try again. I know you can do it.”

You take him in your mouth again, this time bobbing your head along his long cock and taking as much of him as possible. You managed to take him all the way each time, and it had Eddie falling apart above you.

“Shiiiit princess, yes, yes, yes, keep doing that. Don’t stop, please baby. Need you to keep sucking that cock. Need you to take all this cum down your throat.”

You get sloppy with it, because he fucking loves that. Drool slipping from the corners of your mouth, getting his dick nice and wet. The sounds you make around him are obscene, wet and hot and so fucking filthy.

“Yeah, get real messy on it baby. You know how I like it. So good, princess.”

As he gets closer, his whines become high and desperate, his cocky facade fading the closer he gets to his high. He grips your hair tighter, his chest heaving with his breaths, thighs trembling beneath your hands. He starts fucking your face, not caring anymore about being rough, only thinking of his own pleasure.

“Fuck fuck fuck princess, keep taking it, yeah thas’ it, fuck, baby I’m so close, keep suckin’ my cock just like that. Gonna cum in your pretty little mouth.”

You want that, badly. You start moving faster, deeper, and his whines and whimpers are bordering on pathetic now, but it only encourages you. You take him all the way one last time and he holds you there, groaning as he pumps his cum into your mouth and down your throat.

“Shit! Yes yes fuuuuck, take it, take it, take every fucking drop of my cum. Take it baby, doin’ so perfect, yes fuck yes-“

When he’s done you pull off of him, tongue darting out to lick the remaining bit of his cum from the tip of his cock, making him shudder. He looks down at you with wide eyes, breathing heavily, completely fucked out.

“God, princess. You’re fucking perfect.”

[chxrrywines]

Could you write an older Dean and younger reader? Such as late thirties/early forties Dean and a mid twenties reader. Maybe the reader is inexperienced, and Dean coaches them through it?

help you.

dean winchester x fem!reader, 1.9k, nfsw 18+, grinding, p in v, riding, kinda dirty talk, older!dean, inexperienced!reader, kinda unedited — requests are open

Dean’s been to heaven, but it didn’t compare to the bliss of having her in his lap.

He’s had her beneath him — in bed, in the Impala, in a few motel rooms — had her against the shower wall, and more recently at the result of his own impatience, against the library shelves. But, for some reason, he hadn’t had her in his lap before.

It was bliss.

Her breath was hot as she panted into his open mouth, and she was so warm, bare thighs against his own, hot palms that pressed down atop his own bare chest. The only clothing between them was their underwear, and Dean had struggled with the decision of whether he wanted to keep seeing her pretty bra on her or take it off for far too long.

His fingers dug into her hips and grinded her against his lap, and it was the noise he managed to pull from her throat that made the decision up for him. He wanted to pull as many sounds from her as he could, and that meant needing to get the garment off.

One of his hands stayed curled around the dip of her hip bone, whilst his other flattened against her smooth skin and moved upwards until he reached her shoulder, and he hooked his thumb beneath her bra strap, tugged it back just enough to snap it back against her skin, and a low chuckle escaped him when she jumped and pulled back slightly.

“What was that for?” Her mumbled words were a little too whiny for his cock not to throb.

“Just teasing’ you, baby,” he kissed her pout briefly. “You look so pretty, all worked up for me.”

She was such a sight. The fact that she was in his lap alone would’ve been enough to get him worked up, but she was so fucking gorgeous. Her lips were red and kiss-bitten, cheeks all flushed pink. Her makeup was a little ruined in such a way that drove him fucking crazy; lipgloss smudged — the same lipgloss he could taste in his own mouth — glitter that was supposed to be on her eyelids made her cheeks sparkle, black smudges of mascara beneath her eyes. She looked a little wrecked, and he hadn’t really touched her yet.

He reached behind her to unclasp her bra with practiced expertise before he slid the straps down and pulled it from her, groaned deep in his throat when her breasts were on view.

As Dean kissed her again, a bit wet and a bit lazy as he sucked on her bottom lip, his hand slid up from her hip and he cupped one of her breasts, gently squeezed the warm soft flesh in his palm before he thumbed at her nipple until he felt it harden breath his touch, and the breathy noises that were pushed into his mouth from her throat were gorgeous.

Dean had fucked her enough times to know what would pull certain reactions for her. He wasn’t sure she’d had much experience before him, and… Dean knew how it looked. He was getting on a bit, in his mid-thirties, and he had almost ten years on her.

(He had threatened to hit Sam with his car the moment a joking “sugar daddy” had passed his brothers lips.)

Naturally, she wasn’t as experienced as him, he knew that without having to be told. But the first time they’d fucked, and she questioned why he was spending so much time focused on making her feel good, just told him all he needed to know.

She’d only ever hooked up with shitty guys who just wanted to get off.

Admittedly, Dean had been that guy in the past. But the sight of her cumming was otherworldly. He wanted to see it again, and again, and again.

Dean grinded her against him once more and she moaned, her hot cheek pressed against his when her head tipped forwards as she panted softly.

“God, you sound fucking perfect,” he grunted, and he was so painfully hard and her panties were so fucking soaked that he knew neither of them wanted to wait anymore. “Want you to keep making those pretty noises for me.”

His hands dipped down enough to slide his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, and he shimmied them down just enough to pull his cock out, but just as he reached for her underwear, she leaned back and went to move.

“Hey,” he gripped her hips and tugged her back where she was. “Where’re you goin’?”

She blinked at him, took a heaving breath. “You want me here?”

Dean chuckled and gave her hips another squeeze. “Kinda missing the point of what we’re doing if you think I don't want you here, babe.”

“No, I-” she took a breath. “Here like this,” she gestured down towards his lap, and Dean just blinked at her until she huffed out and clarified, “I’ve never… done it like this before.”

Dean softened just slightly. He remembered the first time they’d had sex, how nervous she’d been about not being enough for him, about not being able to get him off. She’d ended up being the best sex of his fucking life, and there was nothing he wanted more in that moment then to have her in his lap, coming apart on his cock.

“Aw, doll,” he tipped forwards and kissed her softly, squeezed her hips until she properly settled her weight back down into his lap again. “That’s alright, doesn’t matter if you haven’t done it before.”

She huffed a breath against his lips, cheeks flushed pink, and she looked partly embarrassed and partly turned on. “M’not gonna do it right.” The words were mumbled into his mouth, soft and almost whiney.

“Yeah you are, sweetheart,” he kissed her once more before he leaned back to get a good look at her expression, her pretty face. “I’ll help you.”

She was breathing heavy, and still looked a little nervous, but nodded her head, palms flat against his chest. He’d never get over the sight of her when she got like this — flushed, blissed out, turned on. God, he could just drink her up, savour the way she looked right then, keep it bottled up for whenever he wanted it.

Dean reached down to the apex of her thighs, brushed his fingertips along the damp fabric, and he watched as she shuddered, her eyes shut.

“Fuck doll,” he groaned, rubbed her through the fabric just until she made a little noise and then he hooked his fingers underneath the wet fabric and pulled it to the side, too lazy to take them off of her completely. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. Sit up for me, c’mon,” Dean squeezed her hips until she lifted them, and he held her underwear to the side with one hand, his other pumped his cock a few times before he lined his head up with her wet hole, clenched his jaw.

“That’s it- that’s it-” Dean groaned as she sank herself down onto him, squeezed her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises until he was completely inside of her, and he felt so much deeper at that position.

She was all heavy breaths and sighs, her fingers clung to his shoulders as she sank herself down in his lap. Her head had tipped forwards and her forehead pressed to his cheek, hot skin to hot skin, her breaths fanned out against his throat. “Dean-”

“I know- fuck,” Dean grunted as he shifted her hips and felt her clench around him. “I know, baby, good girl.”

He gripped her hips and helped her move, and with every drag of his cock against her tight walls, it was blissful. She was panting into his open mouth, hands gripped him tightly, and he could tell that despite her earlier concerns, she felt good.

“How’s that, doll?” The words were mumbled into her ear as he sank her back down onto his cock, and her resulting moan was muffled against the skin of his throat, her fingers gripped onto him tighter.

“Good-” She gasped. “It’s- oh-”

Dean smirked into her hair, grunted as she sank back down on him again, felt the cling of her wet heat around his cock. “It’s what, baby?” He kissed the shell of her ear. “Use your words, c’mon.”

She whimpered at the next drag of his cock. “It’s… feels so good-”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” Dean sacrificed one of the hands on her hips to slide up her back and he tangled his fingers in her hair, gave it a playful tug until she tipped her head back to look at him, and fuck the look on her face. Flushed pink, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in little sighs and gasps that threatened to make him cum there and then. “You look so fuckin’ pretty, you know that?” He lifted his hips and thrusted up into her and she groaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “So gorgeous-” he grunted. “Makin’ a mess all over me- fuck-”

It was her that initiated the kiss, then, her mouth moved messily and desperate against his until the kiss became wet and lazy and fucking heavenly. His fingers tightened only slightly in her hair, only to keep her angled properly for the kiss, and he kept moving her hips and thrusting up into her, felt as her slickened walls squeezed and clenched his cock as it throbbed with a desire he’d only ever felt for her.

Their mouths were still attached when she came without warning, and he felt more than heard the groan that escaped her and into his mouth, felt as she pulsed around him, and it was just enough to drag his orgasm out of him too.

Dean groaned, let go of her hair to grip her hips and pulled her tight down against him until he was buried to the fucking hilt, and he didn’t let go until he was completely fucking drained.

“Oh god, sweetheart,” he was panting when he finally eased his grip on her hips, and dropped a plethora of wet kisses to her hot cheek before he leaned back to look at her face. “Look at you.”

She was a fucking picture as she sat in his lap, still filled up completely, as she panted and blushed and gave him that fucking smile, the shy smile that wasn’t so fucking shy after what they’d done.

Her eyes dipped down and she took a shuddering breath inwards as she leaned forwards and softly kissed his neck. “Was that… did I do okay?”

“Did you do okay?” Dean chuckled and lifted his hand to cup her jaw, and when he tipped her head back up towards him he leaned forwards and kissed her in a much gentler way than he had before. “That was perfect. You’re a fuckin’ gem, y’know that?”

She just giggled, kissed him again, and wrapped her arms around his neck, their bodies hot against each other.

And then, her soft voice mumbled, far from completely satisfied, “…can I try again?”

[shepherds-of-haven]

The End of an Era, and the Road Ahead

Hi everybody, the recent news about Dashingdon shutting down feels like it's a bittersweet turning point for many in the ChoiceScript community. Before Don stepped up and took things into his own hands, volunteering his own money, manpower, and time to create and maintain the site, there was no good way for people to host ChoiceScript demos and games in one place: I think the previous solution had been different Dropbox links (which was eventually nuked by security changes in how they hosted files) and possibly separate Neocities sites? Without the Dashingdon site, none of us would have had such an incredible space to gather, share and explore and experience games together, or--for some--even feel motivated to write a ChoiceScript game in the first place, not without an easy and intuitive way of sharing it with others in a playable format. The Dashingdon site significantly lowered the barrier of entry for anyone wanting to make or play or share games; more than that, it was a place of memories, creativity, and connection, and I fully believe that it served as a vital backbone of the ChoiceScript community for many years. A lot of that community relies on the efforts of volunteers--including the creator of CSIDE and the moderators on the forums--and, as with them, I can only thank Don wholeheartedly for his generosity and his 10 years of tireless, selfless, and often thankless work. The fact that a lot of people didn't even know he was a volunteer shows his altruism!

However, all of that work could have only fallen on the shoulders of one person for so long. It's a sad loss to see, though, and I'm very sorry to everyone mourning the loss of the community space, old or inactive WIPs, and save files that will be lost when Dashingdon goes dark at the end of the month. I do wish that there could be an official, stable, company-supported place for authors to host their games in one place, but at least there are alternatives for people to migrate to! (Thank you too to @hpowellsmith and everyone in the community who's taken it upon themselves to spread the news and try to make this transition as smooth as possible for everyone surprised by this announcement. And thank you to the volunteer who's taken up the banner at cogdemos.ink!) I don't know if cogdemos.ink has a page set up to help defray costs, but Dashingdon himself has a ko-fi if you want to leave a tip or thanks for his years of service to the community!

To that end, I want to reassure you all that Shepherds of Haven is safe and isn't going anywhere, and that this change won't affect the game's future. The news has, however, sped up my announcement of something I've been working on for a long time: transitioning away from ChoiceScript and moving Shepherds of Haven to Twine.

Granted, this wasn't how I originally planned on sharing this news. Patrons have known about this move since I decided on it, but I'm a dogged perfectionist, possibly to a fault. I wanted everything to be absolutely polished before unveiling the Twine build, but this unexpected news has been the nudge I needed to take the leap sooner. It's always been my habit to polish my work to an extreme degree: I will rewrite entire novels five, seven, however many times it takes before I send it to my agent or editor... or even before I show it to my own fiance! I still haven't let him read Shepherds, or the novel that I've been talking to him about since 2019, because it "isn't ready" yet, not in my own mind. A common refrain I've always heard from career associates is that my work is "unusually impeccable" by the time it hits their desk. When I do share something, it's usually done. But if I'm learning anything as I grow as a writer, it's that progress matters over perfection. The sudden closure of Dashingdon has made me realize that no one moment will ever feel perfect--and that’s okay. I have to accept that things will never be as perfect as I want to make them before I let them out into the world. Instead of holding myself to an impossible standard, I’m embracing this opportunity to push forward and bring you something I'm truly proud of. (However nerve-wracking that may be!) So, instead of reuploading the ChoiceScript demo somewhere else, only to take it down again later, my efforts are going to shift entirely to getting the Twine version ready for release. It’s a huge task, but it ensures I’ll have complete control over Shepherds of Haven and its future. If I drop everything and focus entirely on this for the next several weeks, my best estimate is that it will take 3-5 weeks of full-time work to make that final push and finally get everything caught up and ready.

Why Twine? There were a lot of reasons behind my decision to move. The biggest of all was that, as the game's wordcount grew, so too did my creative vision for it, and I found myself longing for a version of ShoH that could be just as visually rich and mechanically engaging as I was imagining. Codex entries, interactive maps, infinite saves that can be downloaded directly to your device! Moving to Twine removes the limitations of ChoiceScript's simpler engine, and allows me to honor the game's creative potential and deliver on it in a way that feels true to the journey we've shared so far. It's also a platform that offers greater flexibility and independence for both me and the game: I've put so much work into this project that I'd prefer for its success to rest more in my hands, even if that means taking on the monumental task of publishing it myself, rather than anyone else's.

So. Both the public demo and the alpha build will be released in Twine as soon as I can make that happen. The majority of the work's already done--I just need to get the alpha build caught up with some lingering day off interludes and Chapters 8.5 and 9, and I need to address a queue of lingering quality-of-life questions and tweaks. I want to also note that, while there are very exciting additions to unveil, everything foundational to ShoH remains exactly the same. The story, text, and original functions have been ported in their entirety to Twine, outside of basic edits and refinements that would have happened in the normal course of revision, anyway. I have even taken pains to implement a visual "classic" setting that will replicate the font, colors, and general simplified look of the original version, if players want to use that instead. :) But otherwise, this thing is stuffed to the gills with awesome new features. Custom music soundtrack! Clickable maps! Actual trading card collectibles! Stunning new art! Revamped codex and store and inventory systems! Helpful tutorials and autosave points! Important quality of life improvements, like being able to select pronouns separately from gender and change them any time! This doesn't even touch the surface of it, but needless to say, I think we're going to have a lot of fun. Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, and support so far, and please give me some time to get my ducks in a row. A new version of Shepherds of Haven will be ready for you to play soon!

[moosetongues]

🚩 NSFW WARNING 🚩

dorian - date everything x reader

"what if the folks in date everything retained some feelings from their objects?" is the idea rattling around my brain. ive thought about it for multiple characters, but dorian has to take the cake for me. granted, this isnt accurate with the real lore, buuuuut who cares! lets fuck this door. this is just a drabble, so its not super well done, but it is a bit long- just so you know!

please note: implied relationship, hair pulling, rough treatment, door fucking (kind of literally)

Dorian could be a stubborn man. Today, you felt like you just couldn't take his awful attitude. Sure, it was nice that he was so dedicated to his job, and yes, he has taken time away from his work before to spend time with you even when he shouldn't... but today, you needed him. Ever since the moment you opened your eyes, you'd felt the need to just throw yourself at him and tell him to do what he liked to you. You were classier than that, though, so you settled for pestering him all day.

Now you two are at a breaking point. You can tell he's irritated with you now, your presence distracting him when, to him, he needs to be most vigilant; you are a temptation to him he can barely resist, but he is desperately trying even now. You are also fed up with him and the 'tough guy' act he's been putting up despite that look in his eye you'd recognize from the many nights alone you two have had now. You just want him and his honesty that yeah, he'd love nothing more than to fuck you into oblivion right now.

He won't budge, though. You decide it's about time to test a new theory of yours. If it doesn't work, then that's fine, but if it does...?

"Dorian, baby, please..." You push yourself as close to him as you can without actually touching him, so close you know he feels you. He doesn't move from his spot in front of the bedroom door, just looks down to you.

You huff out a pouty sigh and narrow your eyes. You reach out behind him to the door and lay your hand on the wood just above the knob with your palm flat; your eyes are glued to his as he narrows his gaze.

"You know, I've started to wonder something." You pull your hand up just enough so that only the tips of your fingers are touching the wood and begin moving them gently along the rigid material. You watch for any change in his demeanor to give you what you had hoped for- and there it is. It takes a minute of gentle touches up and down the surface, but you see as he takes a deep breath and steadies himself again. He can feel it.

"And what is that, love?" His voice is unwavering and stern, but you've been with him long enough to read his body language. You smile a little, still never looking anywhere but up at him as you drag your fingertips down to the beginning of the fixture of the doorknob. You tease the edge gently, letting your fingers linger on it for a little before you drag them down the smooth metal of the plate fastening it to the door.

"I wonder, even in this form, can you feel when someone touches your object form?" You get even closer to him now so you can lower your voice and secretly watch for a reaction. "Do you feel it when I touch here?"

Your fingers move just as careful up the cylinder to grip the knob of the door now, lightly caressing it as you move to press your palm against the latch. You watch as he nearly shivers at your touch and his face reddens. His eyes still haven't left yours, and that darkness more noticeable behind his steely gaze. You see his jaw is tightened, his teeth most likely clenched together to keep his mouth shut even in response to your question.

"I guess if I want to know, I'll have to try harder then. Maybe you couldn't feel it."

For the first time since you started your little experiment, you break eye contact to look at what you're doing. The visual is as unsexy as it gets, but you know that the real Dorian is feeling every little move you make like it was his own body... so you treat it like it is.

You get on your knees quickly in front of the knob, locking eyes onto it and almost completely ignoring the actual man in the room. Even when he speaks up, you don't look at him, instead just maneuvering your hand to rest at the base of the fixture, lightly squeezing the cylinder between your fingers.

"What are you doing?" You can hear it all in his voice: irritation, lust, intrigue- but he still refuses to move from his post or even shift from his usual pose with his hands clasped in front of him. That's not good enough for you.

You lean forward to place a small kiss on the side of the knob's curved edge, stopping to let yourself think about what you're doing. You steal a glance up at Dorian who is redder than you've ever seen him as he watches you handle a door so erotically. The sight of him alone spurs you on.

You begin placing short kisses around all of the edges this time, making your way around it in circular motions and prolonging the kisses each time. The knob is surprisingly warm, and the noises that come from it as your kisses get longer and wetter begin to sound obscene. You aren't sure whether you should even keep going until you tentatively place a kiss on the latch and hear a deep, guttural moan from the man next to you. You look up to see him sweating and practically debauched from your kisses, and you haven't even touched him yet.

You decide to take it even further. You place a few more long, wet kisses directly on the latch, absolutely savoring the little sounds Dorian lets out as you do before you make a show of sticking your tongue out and lapping a line up the front of the knob. For the first time, Dorian moves, and you look up to see him have to steady himself as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan at the sensation. You don't know what this feels like to him, but you do know from your first look at the massive tent in his trousers that it must feel pretty damn good.

You continue now, redirecting back to the doorknob to capitalize while he is still unsteady. You begin leaving short licks all over the knob like you did with your kisses, increasing in time as you went on and around the whole surface area. Dorian is a mess next to you now, audibly panting and grunting as you work on your little task. You finally flatten your tongue and nearly press your whole mouth to the latch as you lick up it, slow and steady, the lewdness of it nearly causing you to moan as well. You're surprised when you actually taste it- a slightly salty, tangy taste not at all unfamiliar to you.

You can't think about it much longer before a large hand grips your hair and pulls you away from your work. The sting causes your eyes to shoot from the obscenely wet knob up to Dorian's face who looks absolutely sinful like this: sweaty, needy, and absolutely seething. He is basically growling his words at you now as he pulls tight at your hair to keep you looking up at him.

"Couldn't stand it, could you? You just had to go poking your mouth around where it don't belong, all for what? This?" You turn your eyes and watch his other hand grip roughly at his cock through his pants. "Well, you'll get what you want alright-"

Dorian releases your hair suddenly, and you continue to watch him as he angrily and quickly undoes his belt and pants. He frees his cock out, thick and angry and impossibly hard. Before you can even react to it, his hand finds your hair again and pulls.

"Well? You wanted this didn't you? The way you were treating that door, I'd think this is exactly what you wanted from me. Pestering me all damn day." You shift your knees so you're facing him more just before he uses the hand in your hair to push you down towards his cock. You open your mouth willingly to the intrusion because he was right- this is exactly what you wanted.

He moans when your lips finally wrap around his cock, the warmth and taste from earlier greeting your tongue. He sets the pace for you using the hand holding your hair, and you're happy to oblige as he thrusts almost frantically into your mouth. Any anger or irritation leaves his voice as he moans your name and tells you how good you feel wrapped around him. You can tell how wrecked he is by how noisy he's being, and honestly, it's a big turn on for you too.

You moan as he uses you, your eyes closing and throat relaxing just so can use you to get off with, quick and easy as a reward for finally giving you what you wanted. You can tell as his pace quickens and his thrusts stutter that he's already close. This must've really felt good for him, so part of you makes a mental note to revisit this later.

Soon, he's cumming down your throat and using the hand in your hair to hold you against him as he cums. He's praising you every second, telling you how good you feel, and all you can do is focus on swallowing every last drop. It's the least you can do to thank him for putting up with you today.

As he comes down from his high, he slowly releases the hand that was holding your hair and pulls back so that his cock slides out. You finally take in a deep breath and look up at him; he is calmer now, but the red in his face stays as he glances over at the knob you had previously been paying all your attention to. He looks down at you as you smile and let out a chuckle at hia apparent embarassment- he's obviously never had anyone try anything like this before.

"That was... good." His face steels back up as he looks down at you and says, sternly, "But don't go getting any ideas about doing it again."

[pinkpurplesunrises]

Cleat Me Baby One More Time - the short story - Alexia Putellas x Pregnant!Reader - that time you morning sicked all over Alexia's cleats

Writer's note: will be on a week break. Though, when I get back, would you like to see more of Pregnant!Reader?

It started as such a good idea.

You. Sweet. Slightly delirious. Newly-pregnant you. Had decided to surprise Alexia at training. Nothing dramatic. Just a little midday drop-in with her favorite smoothie (because she’d left the last one in the fridge, and you (the heroic partner you are) refused to let it go to waste.

You were eight weeks along. Glowing... if “glowing” meant greasy from nausea and crying randomly during car commercials.

Still, your heart was full. You were carrying her baby, after all. Hormonal. Emotional. Kind of clammy? Yes. But full of love.

You stepped into the training complex like a romantic spy. You’d texted Ingrid earlier to make sure the coast was clear. She’d responded with: “yes, locker room’s empty, but bring snacks next time.” Fair.

You tiptoed inside like a cartoon burglar in leggings and flip-flops. The moment you opened the door to the locker room, though, the second the smell of turf sweat and fabric softener mixed with death hit your nostrils... It happened.

Your stomach flipped.

And then… betrayed you.

No warning. No chance for a heroic pivot to the bin. Just a horrible noise and a splatter.

Right onto a pair of freshly cleaned, pink-accented, absolutely-very-expensive Nike cleats.

Alexia’s cleats.

You stared at them. Then at your hands. Then at the vomit. Then at the smoothie. Still in your hand. Then back at the cleats. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “This is fine. This is fine. I can clean this. I’ll burn them. We’ll buy her new ones. I’ll fake a robbery.”

Then you burst into tears. Of course. Hormones. Pregnancy. Cleat-based trauma. The trifecta.

You were still crying when Alexia walked in.

“Mi amor?” she said from the doorway. “They said you... wait. Are you crying?”

You didn’t even try to be smooth. You just pointed at the cleats. “I THREW UP ON YOUR SHOES.”

Alexia blinked. Took in the crime scene. The smoothie in your hand. The puddle of regret. The puddle of you.

She moved toward you calmly, slowly. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! They were your favorite pair! The gold-tipped ones! I was going to bring you a snack and be sexy and supportive and instead I’m a barf goblin who desecrated your equipment!”

Alexia burst out laughing.

You stared at her like she’d gone mad. “You’re laughing?!”

She carefully stepped over the carnage, wrapped her arms around you (YES, VOMIT AND ALL), and pulled you into her chest.

“Mi vida… do you think I care about some shoes?”

“They were limited edition!” you wailed into her collarbone.

She kissed the top of your head. “You are carrying our baby. You could throw up on all of my shoes. You could throw up on my jersey. On me. I don’t care.”

You sniffled. “You’d care if I threw up on your Ballon d’Or.”

She paused. “Okay. Maybe I’d flinch.”

You laughed, finally. A gross, congested, teary laugh... but a laugh all the same.

“Why are you like this?” you mumbled.

“Because I love you,” she said, wiping your cheeks with her sleeve, “and because shoes can be washed. And because the idea of you trying to be sexy while eight weeks pregnant and pale green is both adorable and completely unhinged.”

“Bold of you to mock me when I literally have a weaponized uterus,” you muttered, curling into her.

“I’m just saying,” she whispered, “if you’re going to throw up on my stuff, at least do it on Patri’s next time.”

You both giggled, still wrapped in each other like nothing else mattered. Because, honestly, nothing else did.

Except maybe buying a new pair of cleats.

Later that night, you tried to surprise her again. This time with new shoes. You wrapped them in tissue paper and wrote a card that said:

“Sorry for puking on your sole-mates. Love, your walking science experiment.”

She framed the card. And kept the old cleats, puke stains and all, tucked away in a box labeled:

“First gift from the baby.”

[ultravioletrayz]

KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY TWENTY: HALLOWEEN (+ anal) w/ MIGUEL O'HARA

inspired by this req- "Miguel putting his 🍆 in the wrong hole? Haha. I was just looking for something like that and there’s no where to be found, idk it could be hot or not, but prob def uncomfortable on poor reader until she starts liking it (?) idk"

Originally, Miguel had completely rejected your idea for this year's Halloween festivities. The number one selling point of intercourse for him is being able to share that raw connection with you, a primary part of that being the ability to clearly see your face and talk you through your pleasure. So, when you proposed the idea of Miguel wearing one of those shitty, cheap Ghostface masks that would horribly obstruct his vision, on top of having him act like a cold, scary killer... Miguel was not thrilled.

That is, until he got you in this position.

You're shivering on your hands and knees on the cool living room floor, your nightgown purposefully shredded and frayed in all the right places as Miguel bunches the fabric up at your waist. His gloved hands scratch at your smooth skin as he moves to spread the globes of your ass, making your breath hitch as you invitingly arch your back, pushing your face further into the wooden floor panels.

"Esa es una buena chica…" Miguel chuckles, his voice muffled by the mask, its cavernous black eyes gazing directly at the shiny little plug nestled in your ass. Miguel is thick in every sense of the word, so of course he insisted you prep yourself for tonight if he had to go through with your sick plan.

Broad fingers wrap around the base of the plug, giving it a sharp tug that knocks all the air out of your lungs with a strangled mewl, making Miguel splay a reprimanding spank on your ass, a silent order to shut up and let him make the most of this. Miguel doesn't want to be mean, but if he absolutely has to, he will be fucking mean.

You wiggle your ass in a feeble attempt to entice Miguel into giving you what you want, and you're met with a cruel chuckle. You're glad Miguel is taking his role seriously, but you're too horny to play along. Your body is craving his thick cock, and the fact that he knows that is just making you whine and whimper more.

Until the cool metal of his blade drags along your spine, the back of his knife making you shudder as he caresses your back all the way up to your raised ass. Miguel uses the tip of the knife to pop the plug out of your ass, making you wince. The sight of your gaping little hole twitching at the loss of the plug makes Miguel release a strangled breath, sweat beading on his forehead beneath the mask.

Experimentally, Miguel flips the knife around and slowly feeds the handle into your ass, watching the way your walls swallow it inside as your thighs quake. You're so cute.

Miguel doesn't waste any time after that, pulling the knife away and dropping it to the floor before shuffling closer until the tip of his cockhead brushes against your entrance. With a few shallow thrusts, he parts the tight ring of muscle, hissing lowly at the way your asshole snugly takes his girth. You whine pathetically, begging him to just fucking do it already as he pushes inside in one long stroke, filling you to the brim.

It's a daunting feeling, like your mind and ass are about to snap simultaneously. But all you can do is take it as the lube being held in by the plug starts dribbling out of your hole and coating Miguel's shaft. Your walls flutter around him as he starts to move, pulling out slowly before ramming his fat dick back in, completely disregarding any rhythm or pace as he focuses on giving you harsh thrusts.

The sound of skin slapping against skin reaches Miguel's eager ears faintly through the mask, but it only makes the experience more intense for him as he loses himself to the tightness of your ass and starts pounding deep into you.

"Shocking dirty hole is sucking me in. You're that much of a slut, baby? Sad." Miguel taunts, slapping your ass again and groping the irritated flesh. His gloved hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your shoulders, and pulling at your hair. The dull slamming of his tip inside of your ass, the walls of your rectum spasming to try and adjust to just how thick his cock is; it all goes straight to your poor, neglected cunt, slick dripping down your thighs and onto the wooden living room floor.

You only have your self to blame for being put in this position, but the ache in your belly is too consuming for you to remember how and why you're getting your ass ruined by your boyfriend in a Ghostface get-up.

As your sobs and moans get louder, you reach behind you with an open palm, needing some affection to keep you grounded. Miguel suddenly snaps out of the haze of his selfish pleasure, immediately intertwining his long, thick fingers with yours and softening his thrusts, his hands finding refuge on your shaking waist and kneading your flesh soothingly.

"Pobrecita. Too much for you to handle, huh?" Miguel coos, lifting the mask and throwing it to the ground to take a good look at your messy, pouting face looking over your shoulder and back at him. It was only a matter of time before you broke; his precious girl.

FUCKING FINALLY!! pretend it's still october guys!

[ervotica]

milf!reader fucking coach!patrick because she wants her son to get accepted into his tennis program and they’re old friend who used to fuck in college but she despises him but she’ll do anything for her son👀

warnings; smut, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), cum eating, a smidge of foot stuff if you squint, hate sex, exes (ish) to lovers (ish)

a/n; your honor i need him actually

imagining him wolf-whistling at you when you seek him out on the courts, racket strapped over your shoulder, hand limply holding a basket of tennis balls as you watch him practice his serving, trying and failing not to ogle his entire body through his clothes.

a sweat soaked tank top, slick and transparent. the smell of musk and man and tennis. thick corded thighs dusted with dark hair as he moves fluidly, as though the racket is an extension of himself. a thick bulge in his shorts that, no matter how much you hate him, you want to have your mouth on.

he’s all fire and passion and heat, and you know from experience that trait rings true in all areas of his life.

“so, you’re a milf now,” he drawls, beckoning you closer with a tip of his chin. your mouth is dry, chest so hollow it feels like you’re about to crumble from the inside out.

you roll your eyes, hoping to look more confident than you feel, taking place on the other side of the net.

“and you’re still a prick. your point?”

“why are you here?” he presses, tossing the ball up and catching it with a skilled ease that has your stomach flipping.

“how do i guarantee my son a place in your tennis program?” the words feel heavy on your tongue, struggling not to curl your lips into a sneer at the sight of his smug expression.

“you think i’m a prick but you want me to teach your son?”

“i think you’re a prick but i know you’re good at tennis. and you’re a good teacher. and i want him to be good.” his brow quirks. at least you’re honest.

he discards the tennis ball behind him and crosses the distance between you, long legs coming up to step over the net.

“i can think of a few things.”

that’s how you find yourself at his place, legs slung over his shoulders. it’s wet and dirty, each rock of his hips squelching as he feeds you his cock into your needy cunt inch by inch.

“yeah, know this pussy missed me, baby,” he rasps, pinching at your twitching clit. his throat works around a thick swallow, lips parted in a groan when you clench your cunt round him, shifting your hips upward to allow him to sink further into the wet clutch of you.

“stop talking to my pussy, you freak,” you hiss, quickly silenced as he flattens his thumb over your swollen bud, rolling it in tight circles until you’re creaming round him, wailing with the sheer force of your orgasm

he lifts your ankle, turning his flushed face to mouth at the smooth skin there, huffing hot air against the sole of your foot that has you squirming.

there are some perks to fucking patrick zweig.

he knows every inch of your body, knows what makes you tick and which buttons to press to keep you babbling nonsensical filth beneath him. knows your pussy, knows how to fuck you until you cry.

you’re clinging to his shoulders, almost drawing blood as you dig your knuckles further into that skin, because you know him just as well. know that this gets him going, keeps him rutting into you with that fervour that - despite yourself, despite hating him - you’ve missed so desperately.

because despite hating patrick zweig, no one fucks you like he does.

when he cums it’s in excess, spurt after spurt of it until you’re plugged full and it’s flooding you, dripping out of your spasming hole and gathering over your furled asshole. he gathers some of it with two fingers, feeds it into your eager mouth.

“i’m sure we can work something out about those tennis lessons, sweets.” and he grins, all teeth. the look should have you balking, send you running, but you find yourself drawn to it, clinging to the familiarity of him.

you’re caught in his honey trap once again, and he has no plans of letting you get away this time.

because you both know, no matter how much you claim to hate him, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had.

and he’s sure he can make you love him. just with a little time.

[y0ur-lovrr]

-Some comfort.

A/n: Hi!! This is my first written piece and I’m sorry if it’s bad lol, any tips to write better is appreciated! <3

-no use of y/n, cs I hate that personally. I’m new to the tumblr thing so i apologize if it’s bad. Gn!reader, I don’t think I put any specific pronouns into this, but then again I didn’t proofread it, so apologies in advance.

Pairing- Chishiya shuntarou x reader <3

—“Seems like we’ve lost our partner.”

Chishiya hums,his voice calm and smooth as it always is,but you can catch the small clear glimpse of disappointment in it.

“You were too kind for a game like this, ippei.” He mumbles under his breath, staring at the body of his now dead partner on the floor of his solitary confinement cell, his head exploded off from the collar-blood all over the place. But because of his experience of being a med student, the blood didn’t really bother him-like anything bothered him, really. He was always as calm as a swimming pool.

But for you it was different. It bothered you-a whole lot. Throughout this stupid game you had grown to like ippei, having the thought that he would make it out of this game, like you and chishiya. But he didn’t.

Sniffles coming from chishiya’s side caught his attention, letting out a small hum and turning his head to look at you, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his white jacket.

There you stood beside him, eyes staring down at the scene in front of you, chest lightly heaving as your eyes are already tear filled, your bottom lip trembling as you try to not let any tears fall. His eyes analyze you, watching thoughtfully as he sees the way your fingers twitch at your sides, your eyes slightly wide and pupils slightly dilated. Clearly on the verge of having a breakdown, about to turn into a sobbing mess.

Everything sounds like it’s underwater in your ears, the voices of the other players down the hall are muffled, along with the sound of your breathing, for once even your thoughts are silent. Not even realizing how tears start to stream down your cheeks, unable to tear your eyes away from the body on the floor-the sight of his blood making you feel sick. You couldn’t help it..you knew that ippei killed himself cause he didn’t want to play anymore.

He truly was too sweet for this messed up place, you and chishiya both knew that.

“It’s unfortunate, I know.” Chishiya mumbles as he looks at you, shifting his feet to face you, slightly raising an eyebrow as you don’t move. He’s actually starting to grow concerned about you, he knew you’d cry-but not break like this, it was almost unnerving how you were just standing there.

He says your name, not once, but twice, but it’s as if you couldn’t hear him. It’s only when he lightly grasps onto your shoulder that you turn to look at him, sputtering out a ‘huh?’.

Before he can get a word out you cut him off with a small sob, your hands lifting to wipe your tears, you didn’t like crying, he knew that. He couldn’t help but notice how hard your hands were being with your face, wiping the flowing tears so hard that your cheeks are starting to turn red from the constant touching.

“I-I thought we had it under control…I thought we were all getting out of here together—“ you mutter out to chishiya between sniffles, your body starting to slightly tremble as you try to comfort yourself by wrapping one of your arms around your abdomen while the other continues to stay wiping your cheeks.

He doesn’t let you say another word, unusually bringing a hand out to you and placing it on your shoulder in a soothing manner, trying to be comforting to you. And it was working, honestly.

“He was too kind for this game, but we still have eachother, right?” He hums, just letting you cry, watching as you nod your head in reply, mumbling under your breath. He couldn’t understand your mumbling, but he doesn’t mention it.

To be honest, this was a little heartbreaking to watch. To him, you were too kind for this world to, just like ippei, even though it hasn’t screwed you over yet. He didn’t want it to either. You were too nice, too pure, too kind. He saw how you comforted other players during the game, or another game he met you in a while ago-a spades one to be exact. The same one he met Arisu, tag.

He saw how you dove towards someone else to save them from the tagger and their gun, almost getting yourself killed in the process-but the grin you flashed the lady made it worth it to you. But this was your breaking point, it seems. But he can’t blame you, who knows the amount of people you’ve seen die in these games.

“We’ll get through this. We’re smart aren’t we?” He says with a slight smirk, but it falters slightly as he sees it doesn’t work on you like it has before.

“For ippei?” He draws on, slightly raising an eyebrow at you, and huffs out a breath as he watched you lift your head and nod your head, mumbling back, finally getting your breath back.“For ippei..”

He then just lift his hand to your hair and lightly ruffles it and places it back on your shoulder, guiding you away from the scene. And you let him, knowing you both would protect eachother from now on, you both wanting to get out of this game.

[revelboo]

So......

With the new bots being added wat kinks do you think they have?

Also you turned me into a Megs fan. I came for the Soundwave and have been hit with the Megatron hots. And the whirl.

Waking up to more fics is great!! But don't forget to look after yourself

More Scenarios

Various Transformers x Reader

18+ content 🌶️

Knockout

• “Just to make sure you keep your grubby little paws to yourself,” he growls as you wriggle against the soft material he’s bound your wrists with. Huffing at him as his servos lift your hips with casual strength and you feel his spike slide against you. “Can’t smudge the paint.” Back arching as that spike slowly stretches you, you moan. “Do you know how wrong this is? How illicit?” Gripping your hips, he thrusts against you, optics narrowing as his attention dips to where your bodies are joined. Knowing he loves it. Loves that this is taboo and scandalous as much as he loves to complain. Toes curling, you whimper.

• “It’s obscene,” you moan, that breathy sound stringing him tight. Part of him hates how addicted to the feel of your body he is. To watching his spike shiny with your need sliding into your wet heat, the way your grip him. Hips snapping against yours, just to hear that wet sound. To make you whimper and squirm, so responsive to him. So vocal.

Shockwave and Soundwave

• Tension thrumming through Shockwave as his head tips to watch you squirm against Soundwave, head thrown back against the communication’s officer as you come apart. Hears the other mech murmur against you, shuddering slightly as he releases, servos tracing the delicate line of your throat with one hand, the other sliding from your hip to your lower belly. Watching Soundwave’s hands slide to grip your hips and help you out of his lap. Your warm smile faltering some when you come to him.

• Nerves thrumming as Shockwave’s head tilts to study you, there’s always the uncomfortable feeling that you’re an experiment to him, not a person. Soundwave you trust to an extent, he seems to care about you despite how distant he can be sometimes, but Shockwave? This one makes you shiver and not in a good way. When he just stares, you give up and drop to your knees between his spread thighs. Comforted by the fact that Soundwave is right there watching as you grip his spike and slide your mouth along Shockwave’s length and he makes that low, rumbling snarl, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to touch you, just trembles. Because this has become normal. Him watching, but rarely touching.

• That warm mouth of yours slides against his spike, tongue stroking over the head. Antenna flicking back, he watches Soundwave kneel behind you. Unable to move as you make a hitching sound of pleasure when Soundwave mounts you again. Mouth working his spike he cautiously reaches out a hand, processor stuttering when that disjointed feeling of wrongness slams through him, seeing the cannon at the end of his arm when he’d been sure it should be a hand. Shaking as your eyes flick up at him in worry, he runs the smooth metal muzzle of the cannon over your cheek. It should be a hand, shouldn’t it? He’s not sure. Antenna flicking as Soundwave rumbles at you, hips rocking as he breeds you, Shockwave focuses on that. That low, crooning purr and the feel of your mouth on his spike. Letting those sensations ground him in the present.

Rodimus

• Curled against your back, he slides a palm down your arm and twines his servos with your fingers. Hears the sleepy sound you make when he tugs your hand down your body and spears a servo inside you, rocking your knuckles against yourself. Feels you squirm against his hold. “Not even wake, yet,” you protest, voice hitching adorably as he rocks his hips against your butt, teasing his spike against you.

• Leg sliding in the blankets as he releases your hand to grip your thigh with his wet servos and then he’s driving inside you with a growl. Rolling you to pin on your belly as his spike slides deep, thrusting urgently. Rushing for that finish line with no patience at all. Laying your cheek on your outstretched arm, you look back at him, his optics so bright as he ruts against you, growling in a broken mix of English and Cybertronian. “With my sparklings…. Frag, so tight… mine…” Sparklings. He’s said that before while inside you. More than once and you never remember to ask what that means, but as he ruts against you, nothing else is important aside from the feel of that thick spike driving deep over and over.

Whirl

• Leg kicking out slightly as he bends you over the edge of the surface he’d lifted you onto, you shiver as one of his pincers slides against you, hooking around one of your thighs and spreading you open for him. Feel his spike slide against your inner thigh as he tries to line up with you, refusing to let you just roll onto your back and help him. “So wet,” he growls, the outer curve of his pincer sliding against you. “Be loud.” Because you’re in Ultra Magnus’s office. How many times has he fucked you across the poor guy’s desk? You’re almost positive he wants Magnus to walk in on the two of you going at it.

• “Fuck me already.” Impatient and needy, your tone has an angry edge that makes him shudder with delight. Shifting behind you until the head of his spike finds you, he drives deep, thrusting urgently. Figuring out how to mount you with his unique anatomy had been fun. His tit guns as you refer to them in the way in most positions. This way, though? He can rut against you, pincers grabbing onto the edge of the surface he has you on, giving him extra leverage. With the added thrill of possibly getting caught fragging you on Magnus’s precious, oversized datapad of rules.

Tarn

• Big servos scraping against the berth under him, a rough snarl escapes him as his hips buck against you. Big frame draped over your back, you’re tempted to risk his temper to try and remove the stupid blindfold. Especially when you feel his lips brush against you, sliding up behind your ear. Wanting to see his face, but knowing he’s weird about it. Denta grazing your ear lobe, he shifts behind you, his warmth leaving your back before placing a palm between your shoulder blades to push you down.

• So obedient as you lower your upper body, hips up and his hands slide to grip your hips as he moves against you, spike stroking deep. You feel so much tighter this way, gripping his spike as he stares down at you. Sees your blindfolded head turn to lay on your arm, lips parting. Making those little, ragged sounds that string him tight. Movements growing rougher when you push back against him, crying out. Fisting his spike as he keeps bucking, drawing it out as his servos tighten on you. Snarling as he releases inside you, palm surfing up your skin while you tremble under him. “Don’t,” he growls in warning when you try to touch the blindfold. Feels you tense under him, but you don’t argue, turning your face away. Can feel the disquiet in his spark as he slowly rocks himself against you, reluctant to leave the wet heat of you. Why does it matter so much to you? No one sees his face, he tries his best not to see it himself. Venting softly, he braces a hand near your head and curls his frame over you.

Constructicons

• Crying out, head tossed back against Mixmaster, your thighs tremble. Six sets of hands gripping you, keeping you suspended between them as, which one is it now? Scrapper ruts against you. There’s a mouth sliding warm against your hip, a glossa sliding over your belly. Another mouth finds yours as you arch and buck in their grip. Hearing them murmur to you as Scrapper’s spike strokes deep, toes curling as he drives you to that peak again, your brain too muddled to be sure, but you think they’ve started a second round. That Scrapper had already fucked you. “I-I can’t, please.”

• “We’ve got you,” Mixmaster says. Laughing softly as you writhe against them with a breathy cry, arching like you’re trying to escape, and he rumbles at you, hands curled around you under your arms as you toss your head back against him, soft hair sliding against his plating. “Take good care of you,” Bonecrusher growls, his hands under your hip as he bends forward over you. “Such a good little mate,” Hook adds as you buck in their hold, crying out as you milk Scrapper’s spike.

Drift

• “Slow down,” he growls, shuddering and hips lifting slightly as you bounce on his spike. “Not going anywhere.” Worry about you overexerting yourself mingling with his fear of losing control. Of slipping again, rolling you under him and taking you hard and fast. Hates how rough he’d been with you, even though you’d insisted you liked it. Servos stroking your hips as he watches you ride him, those lovely eyes meeting his optics.

• “Not made of glass,” you gasp, rolling your hips as you chase that high. Feeling his palms stroking over you, touch so gentle. Because you’re still not well, but you’re not an invalid either. You want this, want him. And he’s holding back. Always keeping himself in control, but when he slips? When he takes you with that urgent, edge? Fucking you like he might die if he’s not inside you, that had been electric. Made you feel alive in a way you desperately need.

These nerds…