#back to back days of egregious shorts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsokbbygrl · 8 months ago

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Make Me Sweat.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+//MDNI!!!!

WC: 6.8k (whoops)

Summary: Javi can't sleep. You can't keep it in your pants recently. Both of you find yourselves dripping on this sunny Saturday morning.

A/N: This is filth. I mean, it's written by me, so it's soft filth, sweet filth, but like, FILTH nonetheless. ♡ Written for my sweet new friend, Kricket @sugarcoated-lame for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange, and inspired by P looking fucking delectable post-workout in that giant navy t-shirt. Thanks, bby boy. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tags: SMUT, PWP, reader understands basic spanish, author is requesting the reader to look up the minimal spanish used themselves if they can't figure it out with context clues, established relationship, f masturbation, sex toys, unprotected PIV, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, body hair mention, reader fits into Javi's oversized t-shirts, reader is able bodied and has female anatomy but otherwise pretty physically undescribed. i think that's it, lmk if i missed something egregious.

Javier woke with a start, heart racing, breaths coming quick and heavy. He closed his eyes and tried to slow, slow, slow it down. Concentrating on his breath, deep inhale, long exhale, again, again, until he felt the parasitic tendrils of his subconsciously derived nightmare recede. He sat up on his side of the bed and ran his palm down his face, the body-warm sheets pooling at the bend of his waist, the cool night air of the bedroom causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh. He peeked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 5:43AM displayed in bright red light, the time taunting him. Too early to do much, too late to get much more sleep. Javi groaned to himself and decided to greet the day earlier than he anticipated. He leaned over to his side, dropping a soft kiss to the shoulder of his bed partner before lifting the sheets from his body and gently scooting out of bed to avoid waking her.

Javi quietly moved around the room in darkness, grabbing a ratty old t-shirt and some athletic shorts out of a dresser drawer before moving to another to grab a pair of socks and clean underwear. He gently opened the door to the bedroom and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. He grabbed the pad of sticky notes and a pen from the junk drawer and left a note. Couldn’t sleep, went to the gym. Be back in a bit, amorcito. Te amo - Javi. He peeled the note from the pad and stuck it to the coffee maker, knowing that was the first place she always stopped in the mornings, sure to be seen, before grabbing his keys and wallet from the bowl on the countertop and heading to his car.

“That’s it, mi amor, there you go. Just like that, cariño. Take it, take it, take it.”

You writhed from your place below him, face buried in the sheets of your shared bed muffling your unabashed sounds of pleasure, hands gripping desperately at anything they could find. Javi’s hips smacked loudly against the flesh of your ass, his cock hitting you exactly how you needed as he pounded into you from behind. You felt your orgasm building, the coil of muscle in your lower belly tightening, cunt tightening and fluttering around him.

“Can feel you, hermosa, she’s so tight, baby. You gonna come for me, hmm? C’mon, baby, come on it, need to feel you squeeze it like I know you can.”

You were right there, just a few more thrusts and you’d be tumbling over the edge. You tip your head to the side, wanting him to really hear it when you come for him. You let yourself be noisy, needy whines leaving your lips unbidden, tears springing to the corners of your eyes, the feeling of his thick cock so wholly overwhelming inside of you. You start to cry out in earnest as you feel your orgasm cresting, tears falling down your cheeks, pussy a tight, tight vice, gripping him so strongly you fear you may be torturing him just as much as he is you.

“Javier! Javier! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please, please, ple–”

You wake with a start. Daylight is only just breaking over the horizon, the cool orange and blue glow of the morning shining through your bedroom window. Your brain begins to register where you are, when you are. You groan and reach over, feeling Javi’s side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You remember your dream and sigh, wishing he was here to finish taking care of you. You look at your nightstand and see the time—just after 6:30AM. You sigh and wonder where he is this early.

“Jav?” you call out. All that meets you is silence. You sigh and flop onto your back. You can try to get yourself off, but it’s never as good as when he’s there with you. You can be a proverbial teenage boy and take a cold shower to try to kill your arousal. You can try to push it from your mind and go make a pot of coffee and just start your day earlier than you’d planned. “Fuck it,” you say to yourself. You roll over to your nightstand and fish your trusty little vibrator from the drawer, turning to lie back and you shuck your wet panties.

You scoot yourself back, propping yourself up a little, making the angle easier to reach as you turn on your toy and bring it down to your mound, teasing yourself a little, trying to ease your mind back into the place your dream had left off. You part your legs, spreading your folds ever so slightly, and you follow with your hand, touch featherlight, barely gliding the vibrator around the outside of your clit. You whimper and let your imagination wander.

“There you are, cariño. Oh, she’s so wet, look at her drip. You’re getting our sheets so messy. That feel nice, baby?” you hear in his voice. You whine and nod to yourself, answering him. “Drag it lower, hermosa, hear how soaked you are?” You obey him, dragging the toy to your entrance, the vibrations meeting the sloppy mess there and causing an obscene splattering, crackling noise to reverberate through the room. You moan out loud at the sound, at how worked up you are. “Delicious, wish I was there to have a taste. Always so sweet when you wake up. Have one for me, baby, get it nice and wet and have a taste,” he instructs in your mind and you comply, dipping the toy inside and giving yourself a few shallow thrusts before pulling it out, viscous line of your slick still attached, snapping over your stomach and leaving drips of you behind as you bring the toy to your mouth and suck, cleaning it of the remaining stickiness and humming at the sweet sour taste of yourself.

You bring your vibrator back down, placing it back down just next to your clit, not wanting to end things too soon. You let Javier’s voice filter back into your head. “Beautiful, baby. Look at you. Goddess in my bed, making herself feel so nice. Go, baby, put it on your clit like you want. Dámelo.” You use your other hand to pull the little hood back, fully exposing the button of your clit to the air for the first time this morning. The feeling sends zings of pleasure down your spine and you shiver, pussy clenching tight with desire. You move the toy to press directly on your button and you see stars behind your eyes, mouth dropping open, a whiny moan escaping your throat.

“Mierda, cariño. Tan hermosa. Come on, baby, rub her nice and fast for me, want to see my girl come,” you hear him say. You click the button to increase the intensity of the vibrations from the toy and start massaging it in tight, firm circles on your clit, the pleasure almost unbearable. You release the little hood from your hold and use your free hand to push up your sleep shirt, pinching at your nipples. The added stimulation was exactly what you needed and you feel your orgasm crash into you like a tidal wave. You cry out in ecstasy, thighs closing of their own accord as your pussy convulses, waves and waves of creamy slick sliding out of you and down to the sheets below. When the vibrations become overstimulating, you press a long click to turn the toy off and toss it to the side. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality after so thoroughly rocking your own world. You let out a little giggle, happy hormones flooding your system after such a good orgasm. You snuggle into the pillows for a moment, grabbing Javi’s from his side and inhaling the scent of him that lingers there. The smell of him makes you melancholic for a moment, wishing he had actually been here to experience your morning pleasure with you. You give his pillow a squeeze before putting it back on his side of the bed, throwing your legs over your side and forcing yourself to get up.

You head to your ensuite bathroom first. You strip off your sleep shirt and give your naked body a once over in the mirror, turning to the side and admiring the curvature you find there, a thing you despised for years, but have learned to love through the adoring gaze of your partner. You quickly clean yourself up and brush your teeth before walking to your dresser and grabbing a fresh t-shirt and pair of lounge shorts, throwing them on your body.

Once dressed, you make your way to the kitchen. Daylight has broken over the horizon, bright sun warming the space. You yawn and stretch your arms up high over your head. When you open your eyes, you spot a hot pink square attached to the coffee machine. Curious, you walk over to see what it is and make a pot to share with Javi, wherever he is. You grab the bag of grounds, box of filters, and the measuring spoon from the cabinet above, setting them on the counter, and pull the sticky note away, giving it a read. You release some tension you didn't realize you were holding onto now that you know where Javier is, but you frown knowing he was struggling with sleep, hoping it was just a one-off bout of insomnia and not a symptom of a greater issue.

You dump the requisite amount of coffee grounds into a filter, placing them into the brewing compartment of the machine, filling the water compartment and setting the machine to brew. You grab your favorite mugs—yours a, “World’s Best Grandpa,” joke gift from your little brother, his a vintage speckled cup you found while thrifting that he says reminds him of the mug his dad always used when he was a kid—and set them on the counter next to the brewing pot. You rest your hip against the countertop as the coffee percolates and think about Javier’s note, remembering the last time he dealt with insomnia.

It was early into your relationship. Javier had been home from Colombia for barely a year, still adjusting to the new speed of his life stateside, working the ranch with his papá. He had taken you on a date to the drive-in movie theater and fallen asleep within the first half hour. You’d noticed he had looked tired recently, but weren’t sure if it was your place to pry yet, so you let it be, figuring if it was important, he would tell you. You let him snooze for a few minutes before you gently shook him awake.

“Javier? Javi? Hey,” you softly uttered, rousing him.

“Hmm?” he sleepily replied, smacking his lips and tongue.

“You fell asleep. Is everything ok? Should we reschedule?” You ask, trying to convey nothing but genuine concern with your kind eyes and touch.

“I…what?” Javier starts, confused. “I fell asleep?” He’s visibly embarrassed, cheeks reddening and eyes widening. You can feel his heart rate pick up from where your hand rests on his chest.

“You did. It’s ok, I’m not upset,” you console him. “Just want to make sure you’re ok. Is everything alright? I know this,” you gesture between you, “is still pretty new, but, Javi, I want to know things about you. If something is wrong, I want to know, want you to tell me, want to help if I can. I really,” you trail off momentarily, “I care about you, Jav, a lot.”

Javier sighs and lets his head release, falling towards his chest. He takes a couple deep breaths before he meets your eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping. It’s been, fuck,” he swipes his big palm over his face, “a few weeks now? Can’t get more than a few hours at a time. I’ve been, umm,” he considers his next words. You wait patiently, soothingly rubbing your thumb over his chest. “I’ve been having these dreams. Or memories. I…they feel the same, I don’t know how to describe it. And I can’t, fuck, their faces, I can’t stop seeing their faces, cariño.” You feel something wet drip onto the back of your hand and look up, watching as two more tears fall from Javier’s eyes.

“Oh, Javier, come here, baby,” you coo, wiping his tears with your thumbs before winding your arms around his neck, pulling him bodily to you and holding him tight, allowing him to cry into your shoulder. The movie was all but forgotten that night as you turned down the radio and listened to Javier tell you everything he experienced in Colombia. He told you later on how he was terrified he’d scared you off after that night, but when you asked to see him again the next night, he knew you were something special, someone he didn’t want to lose. You come back to the present, hoping this isn’t his PTSD rearing its ugly head again, but prepared to help him through it, whatever he needs, you’re a team.

You decide to get a head start on breakfast, pulling the carton of eggs, the leftover stir fry veggies from your dinner a couple nights ago, and the cartons of strawberries and blueberries out from the fridge. You bend over to grab your trusty cast iron pan from the lower cabinet and place it on the stovetop, setting the temperature and turning on the oven. You reach for the radio that lives in the kitchen and set it to one of yours and Javier’s favorite stations, swaying to the beat of the music as you crack eight of the eggs into a bowl, using a whisk to whip them into a fluffy scramble before adding the leftover veggies. You season the mixture, dumping it into the pan, and placing it in the oven to bake, setting a timer to check it and fluff the mixture before it fully sets. You turn back to the countertop and grab a cutting board, preparing the strawberries when you hear the garage door open, signaling Javier’s return.

Javier was frustrated. He’d slept like shit, had only a mediocre workout, hit just about every red light on the way home, and then realized he’d left his ear buds on the treadmill after he parked his car back at home. He wished he could start the day over. He took a deep breath and tried to re-center himself before making his way inside, not wanting to drag you into his bad mood.

Javi expected to find you still in bed, the time just past 7:00AM on your day off, but he was pleasantly surprised to find you awake and puttering around the kitchen. He knows you heard him enter the house, but took a minute to admire you from behind while you worked, radio crooning one of your favorite songs, your hips swaying to and fro as you cut fruit for your breakfast. He knew he’d been staring too long already, surprised you hadn’t called him out on it yet, so he moved from his spot in the doorway over to you, gently removing the knife from your hand and winding his strong arms around your waist.

“Morning, hermosa,” he said into your messy bed hair, taking a moment to hold you and reset his day. He felt your body relax in his hold, your hands resting over his own, tilting your head to the side and exposing your neck to him. Javier knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth, tilting his head down, nosing along the tendon there, leaving a soft kiss on your pulse point before continuing their descent lower, down your neck and across your shoulder. You sigh and he smiles.

“You stink,” is the first thing you say to him this morning and it makes him laugh, the two of you long past pulling your punches around each other.

“Went to the gym, did you get my note?” Javier checks.

“Mmhmm, thank you for leaving it. Made me feel better, knowing where you were.”

“Mm good,” Javi replies, giving you a squeeze before releasing you to continue fixing your breakfast. “What’cha got going there, baby?”

He watched you pick up the knife and deftly get back to work. “Have a frittata in the oven, slicing up some strawberries, figured we could throw them in with the blueberries since they’re getting old and need to be finished. Made us some coffee, too. Your mug is out on the counter if you want a cup,” you turn your head and nod in the direction of the mugs. He walks by and kisses you on the cheek before grabbing his mug and the full coffee pot, pouring himself a cup.

“Want me to make you one?” he asks, watching as you shake your head in response.

“That’s ok, thank you though. I’ll fix my own in just a minute, want to finish this first,” and as you finish your sentence the timer beeps. Javi leans his hip on the counter, watching as you bend over, giving him a prime view of your juicy behind. Far too invested to care if he gets staring, he notices your cheeks are bare, loose legs of the shorts doing little to conceal what lies beneath as they ride up just enough while you’re bent over the oven, fluffing the eggy mixture of the frittata. He changes the angle, leaning further to the side and tilts his head to get a better view, fully perving on you now, and he catches a peek of what he’d hoped he’d find. Your sweet, soft, wholly bare pussy greets his eyes. Tan hermosa, Javi thinks, loving the way he can see wetness lingering on your lips. He whistles low and soft, causing you to turn to face him, shutting the oven door and resetting the kitchen timer.

“What?” you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest, inadvertently drawing his eyes to your breasts beneath your shirt.

“Just enjoying the view,” Javi replies, taking a slurp of his coffee, casting his eyes down to your now hidden pussy, before lifting them back to meet your gaze. He watches as your breath hitches ever so slightly in your chest, eyes growing wider. He knows you know you’ve been caught, thinks it’s sweet that you still find it a little scandalous being caught bare around him after how long you’ve been together, everything you’ve been through together. He glances at the timer, 10 minutes remain, he can work with that.

He sets his mug down and moves forward, caging you between his broad chest and the countertop. He’ll never get over the way you look at him, how much want he finds in your eyes. He still can’t believe he gets to call you his, permanently, that you’d wanted to keep him forever just as much as he wanted to keep you. Javier brings a hand up to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone and feels you nuzzle into his palm. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you, cariño? ¿Dónde están tus bragas, hmm?”

He feels you smile against his palm. When you speak, you’re looking directly into his eyes. “Had to take them off, they were all wet.” He anticipated your dirty mouth, but didn’t expect you to say that. He shakes himself out of the stupor.

“Oh?” he starts, softly dragging his hand along your jaw, briefly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb before they continue their journey down, down, down, over your neck, between your clothed breasts and lower, over your stomach, the muscles jumping at his touch. “Why’s that, baby? Something happen while I was gone?” he asks, touch feathering where he knows you're desperate for him before taking mercy and cupping his wide palm over your heated sex.

“Might’ve,” you sigh, teasing him right back. He loves this about you, you always give just as good as you get, keeping him on his toes.

“Yeah, cariño? What happened? Tell me, baby,” he requests, pushing the heel of his hand up, giving you more of the pressure you’re craving. He feels you tuck your face into his neck, grinding down into his touch, your arms winding around his neck to keep him close, as if he would ever pull away from this, from you.

“I had a sexy dream,” you start. “I, mmm, I—you were railing me, Javier, so fucking good,” you take a second to rub into him, breath hot and damp against his neck. He’s going to get light headed with how fast the blood is rushing to his cock. “You had me face down, ass up. You were, ahhhh, so fucking deep, stretching me so good, had me screaming for you, and I, fuck, I woke up right before I came,” you finish, fully whining now, grinding with his hand in a slow, syrupy rhythm.

“Ángel, mierda,” Javi says. “Need me, baby? Need me to touch that sweet, neglected little cunt?”

“Not that neglected,” he hears you mumble into his neck.

Javi drops his voice to that deep timbre he knows works you up like nothing else. “That so? ‘M I gonna be spoiling her? Giving her this much attention? Sounds like you took care of her already, hmm?”

He feels you shake your head and hum a “uh uh,” sound. You peel your face away from his neck and tilt your head back, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Made her come once, but she needs you, too. Please, Javier, amor, te necesito.” And how can he ever deny you when you ask so nicely?

“Jump up,” he requests, grabbing you by the waist to help guide you as you hop up to sit on the counter. He reaches to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up your torso. “Lift,” he instructs, and you comply easily, raising your arms overhead as he finishes pulling the garment up and off you, tossing it to the side, using both hands to gently knead at your breasts. You smile and sigh at the feeling and he hums in approval, wanting nothing more than to please you.

Javier grabs your hands, cock twitching in his shorts at the sheer size difference between you, and brings them to pick up where his own left off. “Touch, feel yourself, cariño, there you go,” he encourages, watching as you squeeze and pinch and flick at your own nipples, little quakes traveling through your body at the feeling. He slides his palms beneath your shorts, pushing them down, caressing his hands over the swell of your ass as he goes. You lift yourself up helpfully as he tugs the garment down and off your legs. You’re a vision from his place at your feet, gorgeous tits in your hands, your cheeks heated, breathing heavily, eyelids fighting to remain open. He watches you shiver and he gets an idea.

He reaches behind his neck and tugs his own sweaty t-shirt away from his body. He flips it around and bunches it up in his hands. “Arms up, hermosa,” he commands. You release your breasts from your grip and look at him, eyes glazed over in pleasure. You give him a slightly confused look, but comply, once again raising your arms above your head. Javier carefully guides your arms through the holes before pulling the shirt down over your head.

“Winnie the Poohing it in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Casual,” you joke, giggling, and it lights his heart on fucking fire. So sexy, so smart, so silly, all rolled into one perfect package for him. He sends a thanks to the heavens, assuming his mamá pulled some strings up there to bring you to him, unable to explain it any other way. He chuckles with you, easing the tension slightly, cooling you both off a little before things get too hot too fast.

“Always so fucking sexy in my clothes,” he remarks, unable to help himself.

“Trying to get me in the shower with you, amor? Could’ve just asked,” you retort cheekily, gently tugging the sweaty t-shirt away from your body.

Javier hums. “No, mi ángel, s’not that…know I’m about to be covered in you—my fingers, my mouth, my cock are going to reek of your sweet pussy, might never be able to get the smell out.” To drive his point home he reaches his hand down to where you’re absolutely weeping for him and drags two of his thick fingers through the wet mess he finds there, coating them thoroughly in your juices before bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, groaning at the scent of you, before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking and savoring the taste of you. “Wanted you to reek of me, too. Fair is fair.”

Your smaller hands dart out from where they had been holding his shirt, grabbing his face and hauling his mouth to yours. The kiss is feverish, desperate, teeth knocking, tongues aggressively searching each other’s mouth. Javier brings his fingers back to your cunt, gathering your wetness and coating them thoroughly before teasing one at your entrance. The feeling makes you gasp, pulling back from the kiss enough to nod, before he sinks his finger inside you. The tight warmth he finds within your body is incomparable. You both look down to where his finger slides in and out of you, watching the obscenity of it, the beauty of your creamy slick coating the single digit. He gives you a few pumps before adding a second finger. He can feel the stretch of your walls, working to accommodate him so graciously.

“Good girl, baby. There you go, just relax and let yourself feel it. S’nice, so fucking wet, cariño, look how creamy you are today.” He hears you groan at that, your breathing picking up as he explores you from within, curling his fingers to rub against the soft spongy spot he knows makes you see stars.

“Think I’m, shit, think I’m ovulating. Or close, or something. I’ve been so needy, can’t get enough of you. Need you in me, on me, around me all the time,” he hears you say and it almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re not done yet though and you continue, “Honestly, I’m not even mad about the shirt, think the fucking stink of you is making me drip. Pheromones or some shit. Had to shove my face in your pillow this morning after I came,” you finish.

Javi uses his free hand to push his shorts down, finally freeing his hard cock to the warm air of the kitchen. He’s leaking, tip shiny with pearlescent wetness. He uses his free hand to swipe it from his head onto his fingertips, and brings them up to your mouth. “Open for me, hermosa. Taste me, take me inside you like this first, baby.” You’re looking at him like he hung the moon just for you, and maybe he did. He would. He’d do anything for you. You open your mouth for him, so soft and sweet and plush, and he feeds you his own slick at the same time that he removes his soaked fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, getting another taste of you, feeding each other in the most primal way.

Javier grabs his thick cock in hand and gives himself a few strong pumps to take the edge off, loving having your eyes on him like this. He steps back towards you and grabs your right leg first, bending it at the knee, opening your hip wide, and placing the heel on the countertop, messy pussy on full display for him in this position. He swipes his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick again and again. He rubs his head against your clit over and over and over, nerve endings alight, zipping pleasure through both of your centers.

“Javi, baby, fuck, please, please, I need you inside me, please put it inside me,” you beg. And who is he to deny you when you ask like that, his earth angel. He notches his cock at your entrance and starts pressing forward, the wide head of him popping through the tight opening of your sex, both of you moaning aloud at the feeling. He’s overcome with the feeling of being inside you like this. You’re so wet and tight and hot—the temperature of you something he can never replicate on his own.

He presses forward firmly, but gently, knowing he’ll always be a stretch for you to take. “Doing so good, hermosa, keep breathing for me. There you go, let me in, baby,” he praises, having learned his words do wonders to help you focus on the moment and keep your muscles relaxed. He uses his thumb to rub soft circles into your clit, watches as you shiver at his touch, feels you soften further, sweet pussy dripping more slick around him to help him slide forward. Before he presses all the way inside, Javier draws his hips back, cock sluicing out, and presses back in. He repeats his slow, shallow thrusts a few more times, obsessed with how your cunt is coating him in thick creamy wetness, the squishing sound it makes with every movement intoxicating.

He looks at your face as he presses in deeper, extending each of his next thrusts until he’s fully sheathed. Your eyes are closed, mouth agape, lips bitten and kiss swollen, your eyebrows raised in pleasure. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling visibly as you let out the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard. You’re unreal, a goddess divine, and he will gladly worship at your altar until the day he dies.

“Baby, ángel, mi amorcito, eres toda mi vida, me tienes para siempre,” he lets the words fall from his lips prayerfully, immediately making good on his promise.

“Javier, javier, fuck me, amor, fuck me harder,” you gasp out to him and who is he to defy the will of the divine?

“Hold onto me, amorcito, gonna give you what you need.” Javi feels your hands slide around his sides under his arms as he continues to thrust in hard and slow, wrapping your arms around his back and holding onto his shoulders before wrapping your legs around his hips, locking your ankles in the dip of his lower back. “There you go, baby, so perfect for me. Stop me if it’s too much, ok?” He lifts your chin with his finger, meeting your eyes to make sure you’re both on the same page. You look wrecked and he’s sure he’s no better off. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss far less debauched than the last.

You break away and rest your forehead against his, the gesture releasing a thousand butterflies within him. “Ok, I will, I promise,” you reply sweetly, and Javier lets himself go. He immediately pulls almost completely out of your wet clutch before throwing his hips forward, hard. It punches the air out of your lungs on a scream, so he does it again, and again, speeding up with each thrust until you’re nothing more than an animated moan. Your fingers are clutching at his shoulders, half moon divots of your nails leaving him branded with your pleasure.

Javi knows you’re doing well, that you feel good, but he hasn’t made you make that sound yet, the one he knows so well, the one that makes your eyes roll back and body go limp. He changes the angle, bending his knees and tucking his hips under to get leverage towards the front wall of your soaking cunt.

“JAVI, there, there, there, oh fuck, please, baby, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, your pussy squeezing him so hard he fears he may come right then. You start to whimper, breath hitching over and over and he knows what comes next. You can’t help yourself when it gets like this, he knows, so it doesn’t scare him anymore when he sees you start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows it’s a way for your body to release, ease the tension that’s been building within you. He moves the hand bracing himself against the cabinets to your cheek, wiping away the tears as they flow, giving you the comfort he knows you need when this happens.

“So beautiful, amorcito, so sweet for me, soft little pussy doing such a good job, baby. She’s holding me so tight, so nicely,” he babbles, listening to the way your pussy absolutely squelches for him. He wonders if you’re right, if you’re ovulating right now. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. The most primal part of his brain ignites, making it hard for him to think about anything other than pumping you full of his spend, his seed, letting it take. You’ve talked about it, you’re both open to the possibility and decided to let nature run its course. If it happens, neither of you will be upset about it, and now, he wants it to happen, wants to be the cause, strut around with his chest puffed out, showing the world that you’re his, his goddess incarnate creating life through nothing but your love and pleasure.

He’s brought back to the present when he feels you rocket through your orgasm. Cunt squeezing him so tightly he thinks you might push him out. He hears you scream his name as he continues to drive hard into your favorite spot, fluttering walls of your pussy massaging him from the inside. “Javi, javi, oh shit, fuck, I’m–Javi, I’m gonna—” he hears you get out before he feels a splash against his lower belly and he looks down just in time to see you squirt all over him and the kitchen floor.

“Cariño, mierda, gorgeous, so fucking amazing, look at you coming for me. You’re unreal, mi diosa, mi cielito,” Javier praises as he slows his thrusts, knowing you need it softer after such an intense experience. He strokes his hand over your hair soothingly, petting you gently before bringing his hand to your cheek, tipping your head to look at him and he smiles when he meets your eyes. “There you are, baby. Did so good. You ok if I keep going? I’m close, promise, I’ll be careful with you.”

You smile back at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smaller hand comes up to cup his cheek, mirroring him, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone as he did for you. “Go, baby. Want you to come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you encourage him. Not for the first time this morning, Javier feels time stand still.

“But you said,” he starts.

“I know, I know what I said. Do it. Come inside me, Javi. Dump it deep, make it stick.”

Your words rattle around in his brain on loop, it’s all he can think about as he picks up the pace again. He tucks his arms underneath your knees, lifting them up and pressing them back towards your shoulders, opening your sweet center to him fully. He looks down, watching his big cock disappear and reappear over and over again, shiny wet and covered in your come, the thatch of hair at his base coated in your thick white creaminess. He’s going to do what you asked. He’s going to come so deep inside you that it can’t help but take. He’ll give you whatever you want, would give you his own life if you asked.

You must feel him tensing, knowing he’s close, because he feels you sweetly push his sweaty hair back and lean forward, leaving a soft kiss to his damp forehead before giving the wet beads there a little kitten lick, giggling cutely as you taste the saltiness and curling your tongue back into your mouth. Content little menace, teasing like you didn’t just get fucked within an inch of your life, he thinks. It works for him though, spurs him on as he thinks about more of you, little yous, in the world. He groans and feels his balls pulling up, knows he’s right there.

“Come, Javi, please. Want it, fill me, baby. Come on,” you chant, moving your arms down to grip his ass, pulling him into you. He moans loudly, giving you one, two, three more strong pumps before he releases. He convulses with the force of it, spurt after spurt of thick come coating you from the inside. You hold him tight, stroking your hands gently up and down his back soothingly. He feels cherished here in your arms and he can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.

BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING

You laugh and Javier feels it from inside you. “Eggs are finished cooking,” you say nonchalantly.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Javi says under his breath. He grunts softly as he pulls himself from the warmth of your body. He notices you move to get down and get the eggs and he stops you immediately. “No, you stay right there. And keep your hips up, need all the help we can get,” he says as he nods towards the devastating mess of your pussy.

His words send a shiver through you and you whimper quietly, staying in your position as he requested, reaching a hand down to cup your mound and hold in as much of his come as you can. The sight makes him feel feral and he growls. He leans over and kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment before he pulls away to get the breakfast you so kindly prepared for the two of you out of the oven.

“Mmm, smells delicious, cariño. Thank you for cooking for us,” Javier praises.

“It was nothing, really. Easy recipe. It’ll be a good one to use with kids actually, can use it to trick ‘em into eating their veggies, too. Just load it up with cheese,” you chuckle in reply. Javier looks at you with stars in his eyes, the way you’re already making considerations for an expanding family. He can’t help the way he pulls you in, kissing you with everything he’s feeling, how thankful he is for your presence in his life, how deeply in love he is with you, how excited he is for your future together. You give it to him right back and he knows.

“Thank you,” he reiterates, leaning his forehead against your own.

“Of course, Javier. Can’t imagine doing it for anyone else, with anyone else. Now can you please run to the bedroom and grab me a pair of panties from the drawer? I’d like to be able to use this hand at some point today,” you laugh and he laughs in return.

“I’ve got you, hermosa. Un momento.” Javier scampers to your bedroom, grabbing your favorite pair of comfort panties before making his way back to the kitchen. He holds them up and you smile at him in a way that lets him know he made the right choice. He helps slide them up your legs and over your behind, using his fingers to flatten the waistband around your hips. “Here, let me grab your t-shirt,” Javi says, moving to grab your discarded clothes from the floor.

“No, Jav, it’s ok. Want to wear this one,” you reply, nuzzling your face into the shoulder of his dirty, old t-shirt. He swears his cock gives a feeble twitch at the sight.

“Ok, baby, that’s fine. You can keep that one,” he confirms and holds out a hand to help you hop off the counter.

“Good,” you reply, hands dusting off your thighs, the shirt fitting you in your favorite way, as you’ve told him, just covering your panties. “It makes me feel sexy, I can’t really describe why, but I do. You’re just so fucking broad, baby, your shirts hang off me, it’s hot as fuck,” you’d told him once and he never forgot it.

“We’ll have to get you some more, make sure you have plenty of options,” Javier started. “Need you to be comfy while you cook,” he finished, reaching a hand out to casually graze against your lower stomach. He looks up to find your jaw dropped open, eyes getting that faraway, glazed over look, and he knows what’s coming next. “Baby, your breakfast,” he reasons.

“Fuck breakfast, we have a microwave. Can you go again?” you ask, reaching out to palm at his semi-soft cock.

The feeling of your hand against his sensitive skin makes him shiver. “For you, cariño? Always.”

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or reblog to support fandom authors!

#ppcugiftexchange2024 #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javi p x reader #javi peña #LJ writes

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muntitled · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fluff #bottoms x reader #bottoms fanfic #bottoms movie

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vechter · 6 months ago

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ao3 for dick grayson fics is such a trying experience, truly bc what do you mean there's not one, not two but an overwhelming abundance of fics where dick is a bad sibling and jason todd is the ideal, supportive, drops-everything-for-your-crisis sibling?

like i can understand the appeal of exploring the lesser of dick's choices and character traits and how those impact his relationships with the rest of the bats but you mean to tell me that any of them- damian, tim, cass- tim, especially- would willingly go to jason for help when they have the option of asking dick?

as much as red robin is a deeply rich, complex story about grief and morality, i'm afraid it did irreparable damage to dick's character, not to mention tim's (that boy does not have an egregiously high body count, comics would never gloss over that kind of mass death or be implicit about it in any way if that had actually happened)

dick's primary character thesis is being a safety net for people who fall- the way bruce and batman were for him after his parents died. it's one of his chief driving forces. there is no world where he doesn't help out a stranger, let alone his siblings if they come to him for help. and despite all of the bats being notoriously bad at asking for help and support, the number of instances where dick is an empathetic listener, doling out advice and emotional support and compassion (even when people are tight-lipped about needing any of those things) far outweighs the times he has been short-sighted or intentionally harsh. no character is perfect but to see how often jason is written favourably whilst simultaneously dragging dick is maddening fr

like, fine you like jason a lot. it can be fun and cathartic to write about him choosing to develop relationships outside of his grief/trauma/revenge with bruce (although i think that the most compelling thing about jason is how much of his character post-resurrection is driven by existing as a dead boy walking so to see him actually care about living and making healthy choices would probably require something beyond therapy with harley quinn lmao) but is it really necessary to do that while putting dick down? both tim and damian have seen dick while he is decidedly not at his best (reeling from the circus burning down in nw '96, grieving bruce, finding his footing as batman) and have come out the other side firm in their belief in him. cass, unfortunately is more removed from dick's immediate circle but that's a whole other tangent about how peripheral dick is to both of the batgirls that come after babs. steph, by virtue of having a parent who is alive, is lucky enough to be removed from more of the complicated dynamics all of them have with each other. and while dick is an ass in her initial batgirl days, he does warm up to her (but that again is a whole other post considering the legitimacy and nuances of characterizations in batgirl- tim never gets the same flak for his treatment of steph despite being much, much closer to her and actually knowing her beyond the second robin to die- and even then, when dick finds out about steph's death, the gist of initial reaction is to blame bruce, perhaps, rightfully so)

like you're falling for his act!!! as readers of a form of media like comics, we are lucky enough to get a glimpse into dick's inner neuroses and thought-processes while simultaneously seeing how he acts on them. ofc we see him make mistakes but a lot of the other characters don't!! and if/when they do, they don't see beyond the performance he delivers. even barring the fucked-up-ness of a high stakes job like vigilantism where trauma and death and adrenaline are linked together messily, no relationship between two people is perfect. people hurt each other, people lash out!! but the most compelling thing about dick is how often he reaches out, how often he swings back even after he has swung away!! that's what makes him such a source of light, hope and positivity for everybody he encounters

and this is not even touching n52 which seems like the most hasty kind of decision making and writing from editorial with no consideration for a lot of the characters' histories, lore and their core characterizations

#rant post #sorry im so annoyed I was just looking for a good tim and dick fic #and good fucking lord the no. of jason todd is a good sibling and dick grayson is a bad sibling tagged fics #dick grayson

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lacrimosathedark · 10 months ago

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I need the comic book fanfic writers to be made very aware of something:

Roy Harper is the only one to EVER call Jason Todd "Jaybird".

This isn't a family name that he picked up on, or that Roy made and the family has adopted. Roy is literally the only person to call him that. Dick doesn't, Babs doesn't, Bruce doesn't, nobody but Roy does.

The others call him Jay sometimes, in old comics Jace was said a few times (which I actually like and wish people would use literally at all). Bruce has said "Jay, lad" like once and fandom adopted him calling Jason "Jaylad" but that's not horribly egregious so I tolerate it. Dick occasionally calls Jason "little wing". That's about it.

Jaybird is very specifically a Roy Harper thing.

(Honestly yall better appreciate me actually looking back in RHATO 2011 because BOY do I hate this comic. It's not only poorly written, but in my opinion, ugly as fucking sin and I need to burn my retinas now)

That is the first instance of Jason ever being called "Jaybird", and it becomes a lowkey running gag that Roy calls him that and Jason "hates" it.

And then we get this post Heroes In Crisis

This whole thing may have been poorly written because, again, Scott Lobdell sucks, but the intent is to evoke intimacy to make Roy's death hurt. Jason is supposed to have just lost his best friend and was told by Bruce Wayne whose last appearance in his life was beating the shit out of him and, oh yeah, who saved Jason? Roy Fucking Harper.

In addition to the fact that Roy only left Jason to get help for himself. He was supposed to be in rehab/therapy, somewhere safe, and he fucking died because of handwavy Speedforce shenanigans or whatever it's been retconned to now because nobody liked Heroes in Crisis. Roy was supposed to be getting better and he died ostensibly in an accident. Like if that's not the worst fucking bullshit--

This scene of Jason calling himself by what he deems a stupid nickname would mean jack shit if everyone and their goddamn cat called him "Jaybird". But it being a Roy-specific thing makes this scene distinctly about Jason being vulnerable and actively grieving. It's such a cliche trope, and a real coping mechanism, to call a deceased loved one's phone just to hear their voice in their inbox message again. He probably has no thoughts that Roy will ever hear it so this is just for him, but he's letting himself accept this dumb nickname Roy gave him now because it was Roy that gave it to him and Roy is fucking dead.

Like, in fairness it probably frustrates me more because I ship the two and parallel it with Oliver calling Dinah "pretty bird", but like...even as just a cheeky friend nickname, nothing romantic behind it, having everyone else call Jason that feels wrong. Especially his family who he still has so many issues with and, like it or not, he's closer to Roy than literally any of the Bats at this point.

This isn't the only time I've seen the fandom do this (this being giving nicknames between characters that just don't exist); Jason calling Tim "replacement" is absolutely rampant in the fandom and I hate that too because he never calls Tim that, and refers to him as such like once. I have a whole list of actual nicknames and insults these motherfuckers call each other somewhere, but maybe another time.

In short

STOP HAVING EVERYONE CALL HIM JAYBIRD.

Thank you and have a nice day. <3

#DC Comics #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jaybird #Roy Harper #Arsenal #I am losing my goddamn mind #I'm just so tired #RHATO #Heroes in Crisis

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 9 months ago

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Yandere Coworker

Tw: violence, afab reader, A Lot Of Words

masterlists part 2

This is a pretty slow burn fic, enjoy yall

Minors and ageless blogs DNI please i will block u <3

You only ever talked to him once or twice, barely even remembering his name. You always mistook him as 'Citrus'. But he would correct you and say his name is Cyprus.

He doesn't speak to anyone, always working away at his cubicle. You would have to pass by his seat a few times to hand some reports, it was always barren. Nothing that showcases his personality outside work, no framed pictures, no trinkets, no keychains, and definitely no bowl filled with candies.

Yet, everyone gossips about him. He is undoubtedly attractive, you could see a faint outline of his toned muscles through his white, dress shirt. He wears a pair of titanium, rectangular glasses on the bridge of his nose. Always clean-shaven with a short, smart haircut. His skin has a healthy glow and gorgeous tan to it with barely any blemishes except the scar that cuts through his thick eyebrows and full lips. That adds to his rugged charm.

Everyone thought that his ears were weird, but refrained from talking about it, fearing that HR would pay them a visit for workplace bullying.

Your coworkers tried to buddy up with him before, either for office politics or genuine interest in him for being tall, dark, and handsome. But in the end, they failed and gave up. Because he would only talk to them about work, or not speak at all, just stare at them deadpan before telling them he has something to do.

You knew his good looks earned him your manager's favor. You have been observing him just like everyone in the room, he comes in at 9AM on the dot, and leaves at 5PM on the dot. Once his shift is over, nothing can stop him. No matter how high up there in the office hierarchy, no one can convince him to stay even as little as 5 minutes. It is especially egregious during meetings, despite being obviously nowhere near its conclusion, once the clock hits five, Cyprus would get up, politely yet albeit gruffly excuse himself, and leave the room.

You tried following his example once. You were called into HR the next day for not being a "team player". It isn't only you, even your other colleagues received a scolding for setting such boundaries while Cyprus left the building without having any sass thrown at him. It's either he gets preferential treatment or he does not give a damn if he gets fired from this job.

He disappears during lunch. Absolutely no one can find him, not in the break room, not the bathroom, and not even the parking lot. It was like a sighting of a cryptid when he would occasionally enter the communal kitchen to make himself a cup of black coffee, no sugar nor milk.

Of course, each time people would try to entertain him with small talk. Cyprus would simply reply with one-word answers or nothing at all.

Obviously, he isn't interested in letting his professionalism slip. Why bother trying to gain his approval? Whenever you had the pleasure of being alone in the coffee room with him, you would nod at him as a greeting, and he would do the same. After either one of you finished your business there, no goodbyes would be said.

There was a day when you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, it's always occupied and you would have to wait ages. By the time it reaches your floor, it will have already taken up half of your lunch break. Might as well get some exercise in.

You frowned at how dingy it was, but you started your journey downwards.

After reaching the next floor, you were surprised to catch none other than Cyprus sitting on the steps. He turned his head to you, seemingly annoyed at something. He has his phone in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other one.

You happen to be holding a lighter for your friend. You offered it to him, and Cyprus would gladly accept it. He grumbled out a 'thanks' before handing it back to you. Not liking the smell of cigarette fumes, you gave him an acknowledging look and left him alone.

He gazed at you pensively as you descended the stairs while blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth. The cigarette was held between his index and middle fingers.

It's been three months since you first joined this company. The only thing you knew about Cyprus is that he worked here longer than you, has a cig for lunch, and isn't a pushover. From what you learned from your colleagues, he only worked here for a year before your arrival. Right off the bat, he's already acting like this. Never sucking up to the higher-ups or going above and beyond like other newbies would.

Though, it isn't like he's a horrible worker. Cyprus wasn't the best either. He just does just enough not to get dismissed. He reaches his deadlines, has everything in writing, and would professionally call anyone out for giving him too much to do.

Since the day where you used the stairs, you would always bump into Cyprus without fail. Looks like you found his hiding spot and he is always filling up his lungs with grey poison. But you had no desire to share it with anyone, he probably would prefer to keep his safe haven unoccupied. The only constant daily interaction that the two of you had was a mutual nod.

There was a particular day when you decided to put on a new pair of work shoes. It was also the same day when you had to rush out of the building for an important appointment. You didn't realize how slippery the soles were, it took one misstep and you found yourself tumbling down the stairs.

Luckily though, your collision course was stopped by a pair of strong arms catching you before you could hit the wall.

Cyprus helped you up. But you had no time to waste, you muttered a quick thanks before rushing to flee the scene again.

His sharp eyes must have picked up what the problem is. Well, it didn't take a genius. You were already barely keeping your balance while scrambling to get back onto your two feet. So, Cyprus would apprehend you by the wrist, preventing you from going down.

"Stop rushing, you're going to slip again." He said, his voice was deep enough to feel it vibrating in your bones.

You end up taking off your shoes and assuring him you're going to be fine. He lets you go and you take off running, regardless of his command.

You came back the next day with a bruise on your forehead and another pair of shoes on your feet. Your nosy coworkers flocked around your table to ask what happened. You said your stupid shoes were too slippery, you slipped and hit your head. Leaving out the part where Cyprus helped you out at the stairs.

Just like usual, you took the stairs again during your lunch break.

You expected a nod and nothing else.

"You okay?" He asked. Which surprised you. Switching the focus from the steps to Cyprus, who is standing tall on the platform with a cigarette between his lips.

You muttered yes, and a "thanks for asking". You had somewhere to be, so you moved past him and left him there. Cyprus didn't make a move or say anything else.

The week goes by like usual. Though, Cyprus is oddly "chattier".

"How's your head?" He would ask this on random days. You would always reply with a "fine" and a "thanks for asking", not wanting to waste his precious smoking time, you left him alone almost immediately.

You had a bad day at one point, you got yelled at by five different bosses, someone took credit for your contribution, you weren't invited to lunch and you were told to work overtime. Dragging yourself down the stairs with your head hung down low. You didn't look up to nod at the male leaning against the wall.

He cocked an eyebrow as he saw you sitting on one of the steps with a somber expression.

You asked him if you could have a stick too. Cyprus handed you one without a complaint. He fired his lighter and lit your cigarette between your fingers up.

It was obvious to him that it was your first time smoking. You immediately started hacking wildly as soon as the sharp, unkind fumes hit the back of your throat. This did not calm you down at all, what a scam. You thought it would lift the weight off your shoulders like how it was advertised in movies, it gave you more stress instead.

"Bad day?" He asked, with a new amused expression on his hunky face. You confirmed it, but not giving him any details.

You said that smoking sucks and it didn't help you, looking visibly upset and at the brink of tears. Asking if he could dispose of it for you. He gladly took it from your hands.

You walked away, grumbling incoherently as you tried thinking of other ways to relieve your stress for the day.

Cyprus snuffs his older cigarette out using the heel of his leather shoes. He brought yours to his lips and closed his eyes as he inhaled the newer smoke.

Days turned into weeks, into months. It just repeats every day, you would encounter him at the stairs, and sometimes he would say something more, or nothing at all. The only notable event that happened to both of you, is that you brought back a takeaway that you didn't like and bumped into him at the stairs. You were clear as to why you're giving him a box of food, you personally hated it but you couldn't let it go to waste. None of your 'friends' wanted them either.

Luckily, he is alright with it. He ate something other than his cancer stick that day for lunch. Cyprus thanked you for it and you went back up to your cubicle.

Come Valentine's Day, you're baffled as to who left you a bouquet of roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates on your desk. It couldn't have been Cyprus, that's for sure. Because you come in earlier than he does.

You looked over to his cubicle to see that it's piled with Valentine's day gifts. But no Cyprus nor his belongings since it's still 8:45AM. You're more likely to catch him dead than acting enthusiastic to come to work.

Scratching your head, your admirer left a cryptic note that said:

"I like you and I want to get to know you more.

Meet me in parking lot 1-A at 5:30pm. I'll take you out for dinner.

-R."

Cyprus definitely doesn't start with an R. You tried thinking about the times where you interacted with coworkers with R as part of their initials. You may be amicable, yes, but you don't think you come off as flirty. It was all an act to not get eaten up by office politics.

God, you hope none of them had the wrong idea. You hope whoever this is, doesn't have a big influence over your boss. You're cooked if you do. Because you are not meeting them at all.

You shoved the gifts under the desk, removing all evidence of it before you attract the attention of your noisy colleagues. You were so distracted clearing your desk that you didn't realize Cyprus walked past your cubicle a bit closer than usual.

You're a bit frazzled over this. Worrying about the consequences of rejecting this mystery person, but fearing that you will be a victim of violence when you meet them at a secluded parking lot.

So you head to the break room to make yourself a drink. The room was empty, everyone was too busy fawning over their own gifts instead.

Except Cyprus, it seems.

He entered a moment later as you're filling up your cup with hot water.

"You got anything?" He asked. You whipped your head to him and saw that he was focused on fixing his own cup of coffee.

"For valentines. I mean." He leaned against the counter as he waited for the coffee machine to drip liquid caffeine into his mug.

You said yes. Roses and chocolates. You are trying to figure out who it is.

He looked taken aback. You don't know if he's surprised that you have admirers, or the fact that you look like you're being hunted.

You excused yourself with a stammer and scurried away, having your mind occupied with anxiety.

You barely paid attention to your work, dreading as the clock ticks by and inching closer and closer to 5:30PM.

When it reaches lunchtime, you climb down the stairs as usual.

"Bad day?" He asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

You said no. But before you could leave, he blocked your path.

"What's going on with you?" He asked, with a mild concern written on his face.

You said there is nothing wrong. You have to leave now for a galentines day lunch with your female coworkers. So you squeezed past him.

In the end, you decided not to go to the parking lot. Once you saw Cyprus leave the floor at 5pm sharp, you began packing up. Bringing your roses and chocolates with you.

However, you didn't go to the parking lot. You went straight home instead, wondering if you made the right choice.

The next morning, your coworkers were gathered in a crowd to discuss their new gossip material. You joined in, wanting to appear as a "team player" just like how the HR department wanted you to be.

"Yeah! That's so weird, do you think he was waiting for someone?"

"Must be, why else would Cyprus stay here till ten?"

You asked where they saw Cyprus.

One of them showed you a picture of him leaning against his deep blue sedan. A lit cigarette in his mouth while his hands were in his pockets. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. The photo was taken from a distance, they probably wouldn't want Cyprus to catch them in the act.

You examined the picture for any clues as to where he was located.

Your face pales as soon as you see the sign "1-A". So that was him.

He didn't come in today. Your manager said he had to take an emergency leave, so you're tasked with covering his workload.

You were gnawing on your fingernails. Feeling extremely guilty and afraid, you are not using the stairs anytime soon. You do not want to face the awkwardness.

It was his fault anyways. How the hell would you know there is an R in his name? He had multiple chances to tell you about it yesterday, yet he didn't.

But you're scared. You have no idea what this man is capable of and you value this job too much.

You refrained from going into the break room and the stairs. You would rather waste your time waiting for the elevator than to face Cyprus alone.

Only to find that he started smoking outside.

You stayed at your desk during lunch.

Only to find Cyprus doing the same now.

In the end, you found refuge in the women's bathroom. Camping there for the entire duration of your break.

He is actively trying to talk to you. But you always act like you have a bladder infection when he approaches you, urgently needed to use the toilet now.

You avoided eye contact with him and whenever you have to hand him a stack of papers, you would just drop them on his desk and rush back to your own.

That was embarrassing. Although you weren't the one being rejected, you felt crappy.

Even if he was upfront with his feelings for you, it was unlikely you would have agreed. Cyprus is too enigmatic, who knows what lies under his cool exterior? Plus, you don't like the smell of cigarette smoke.

This is crazy, you're constantly under pressure everyday. From Cyprus's silence on the matter and the fear of having your coworkers finding out about your 'relationship' with him over that one year.

You decided to head to a bar one night to drink your worries away.

It was nearly empty, save for a few patrons scattered around. You swore you saw a lot more people walk in when you got off the bus. Where did they all go?

Someone sat next to you, a stranger. A charming one too, bought you a drink. You smiled as you warily decided to chat with him.

The alcohol certainly helped to ease the jumpiness, you're calm and enjoying the time you're sharing with this man who you never met. He cracked jokes which you would laugh at and you would talk about your office woes to him in a drunken stupor.

The drinks kept coming, you were heavily intoxicated whereas he is completely sober. The man barely drank while you finished around seven glasses. The bartender didn't seem to care that you're too giggly and swaying side to side. Your speech is slurred as you let yourself relax.

The man paid his tab and rose up from the stool. He wrapped his arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders. You told him that you wanted to stay here, but he didn't listen. You asked him multiple times where he was taking you, but the man didn't respond to it.

You're about to be lifted off your seat, until a fist travelling at lightning speed collides with the stranger's jaw. The impact made a sickening crack, followed by the clattering of loose teeth onto the wooden floors.

Some droplets of red got onto your cheeks and your office wear.

You sobered up a bit from the sudden attack, you were left unharmed but you couldn't say the same to your new friend.

A hulking figure was giving him the beatdown of his life, throwing powerful punches after powerful punches. The bar was thrown into chaos at the sudden act of violence, the screams, shouts and hollers were hurting your ears and head.

You threw yourself at his assailant, trying to get whoever is pummeling the man senseless to stop. He's not moving anymore! His blood pooled around his body and the two pairs of feet, including yours.

The bartender tried to break it up, this man was so full of rage, that nothing would stop him from taking out his anger on this stranger.

You cried, sobbing and begging him to stop. But he never listened, only after he was satisfied did he turn around to face you. His knuckles dripping with blood that isn't his, pecs that rose up and down as he breathed heavily. Adrenaline was still coursing through his bloodstreams, that is why his pupils were dilated within his steely grey eyes.

You were harshly tugged away by someone else. You looked behind you and it's the bartender, he brought you to safety as more people joined in the fight.

Maybe they wanted to avenge their friend, or they just wanted to beat him for bragging rights, or they could simply be drunk. Regardless, they were armed with chairs and broken bottles.

Cyprus dodged the first few blows and blocked the next ones. He grabbed an attacker by the arm and painfully twisted it, leaving him to scream and writhe on the ground. He blocked the strike from the wooden chair with an arm and punched another person square in the face, disfiguring their nose.

He delivered a devastating uppercut to one of the more erratic and violent patrons, swiping them off their feet using his leg before kicking them with enough force to push them far away.

One of them had the misfortune of tasting his deadly hook to the side of the face, knocking them out cold. Their limp body hits the floor with a deadening thud.

After that, no one dared to take him on. They're either keeping their distance or unconscious on the floor. He turned around and glowered at the bartender, who shrugged coolly and guided you to him.

Through your tears, you make out that familiar face of your quiet coworker. You were stunned with a million questions running through your head.

His massive hand grabbed you by the face, turning it left to right, examining if you endured any injury from the creep.

You were still under the influence, so you broke down crying and apologizing that you stood him up on Valentine's. You pleaded with him not to hurt you.

Cyprus supported an arm behind your back and under your knees, carrying you close to his chest as he fled the scene before he could get in trouble.

Your legs dangle as he carried you bridal style. The world is spinning and you could barely stay awake. This felt like a nightmare that you would have after pulling an all-nighter to finish a report.

But one thing that you kept your eyes on are his ears. You realized that you remembered seeing it somewhere online:

Seasoned boxers have cauliflower ears like Cyprus's

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #x reader #tw afab reader #yandere love #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x female reader #oc Cyprus

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pfhwrittes · 10 months ago

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retail hell reader is being bothered by an uncomfortably friendly customer and tf141 handle it in their own ways.

warnings: female!reader (she/her pronouns) isn’t being overtly harassed but you know when a man is being too interested and too friendly? its that. egregious use of scots as inspired by still game, pet names “love”, “hen” and “bonnie girl” used to refer to f!reader.

word count: 1.5k

pairings: kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader, simon riley x reader, john price x reader.

each reader x named character interaction should be read as a standalone but i stuck them all together as they were too short to post individually in my opinion.

- -

this customer is making you nervous as fuck. you don't think you've been inappropriate with him in any way, just polite and friendly as you sorted out his refund. the problem is that he's massive, easily taller than simon by a couple of inches and he keeps looming over you blaming his difficulty understanding english as to why he keeps getting closer and closer. he's practically mounting the customer service desk to peer down at you (and you have a horrible feeling he's trying to get a look down your polo top).

you're beginning to panic so you do the only thing you think to do (which admittedly is pretty stupid looking back on it) and make your excuses to leave the customer service desk to find one of your friends. or at least find a colleague who will act as a witness if this guy gets any creepier.

gaz handles it like a champ. as soon as he spots the creep following you around he's there. arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side at the kitchen consultant's desk. his customer service smile is fixed on his face and he refuses to even acknowledge this giant arsehole of a man, just keeps talking to you softly and shows you the kitchen he’s working on. kyle’s beautiful brown eyes only briefly leave your face so he can point out another favourite part of his design, he never once looks over at the creep. it works to soothe you, especially being so close to him. after ten minutes of being blatantly ignored, the creep walks off muttering under his breath. hopefully he’s left the store but unfortunately it’s around that time that kyle has a couple walk up to him asking him if he’s free for a drop in consultation. before he agrees he checks in with a gentle “you alright if i take this appointment, yeah? come straight back if that guy is still hanging around. i’ll deal with him.” he looks so serious you believe him. you reassure him that you’ll be fine and he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before you separate from his warmth already missing the slightly woody scent of his cologne. before you’re completely out of earshot you hear the couple cooing over how cute kyle was with you and his reply of “well, it’s not exactly hard when she’s one of my favourite colleagues…” and the fondness in his voice makes your cheeks heat up.

johnny nearly trips over you as you’re crouched behind the paint desk. “steamin’ jesus, what’re ya daein’ under there hen?” you hush him quickly and silently with a finger raised to your lips. you don’t want to speak because you know the giant is still out there looking for you, you thought you’d given him the slip near the paint brushes but then he’d rounded the end of the aisle so you darted for the relative safety of the paint desk. johnny crouches down next to you and whispers “are we hidin’ from someone? is it simon?” you shake your head and go to answer him but then your blood runs cold as you hear that familiar accented voice. “excuse me? i was wondering if you might help, i’m looking for the fräulein who was helping me?” johnny shoots a look at you and you squish yourself further into the corner of the desk hoping against hope that johnny won’t give you away. thankfully, johnny straightens up from behind the desk with his most charming customer service grin “sorry pal, i’ve no’ seen her. ‘s only me on the desk the day.” the creep sounds nonplussed at johnny’s thick glaswegian accent (you’ve certainly never heard it ramped up like that in all the times you’ve spoken with him) and a little crestfallen when he starts to reply with “oh, perhaps you’d be good enough to -” johnny interrupts him, voice still pitched in a friendly manner but you can hear an undercurrent of tension “naw, sorry pal. i’m busy pitin’ the hems oan the tins. is there anythin’ i can dae fer ye mixin’ wise?” there’s a moment of silence and you watch johnny’s smile slowly slip off his face, his lips thinning into a stern line. “ah, um. no thank you. perhaps she will find me.” the creep sounds a little nervous now if the uncomfortable laugh he lets out is any indication. “aye right. well i’d best be lettin’ you get oan then eh?” johnny shifts on his feet slightly so his calf brushes up against your arm. after another tense moment you hear the lumbering footsteps of the giant move away from the desk. johnny looks down at you with a mischievous grin, “i’ve got to say bonnie girl, you look a right sight down there.” you only feel a little bit bad when you punch him lightly in the leg and he yelps in shock as the blush on your cheeks spreads down your neck.

simon is less than impressed when you duck under the chain across the warehouse doors and flatten yourself against the noticeboard out of view from the shop floor. “you stupid? chains up which means the forklift is out so you need to be too.” he’s pissed off and thinking about how much paperwork he’ll have to fill out now because you didn’t bother to think about the cameras in your dash for safety. he takes a big step towards you before swerving off to the side to block the customer that has just appeared at the chain. “the fuck do you want?” he practically snarls. ‘this isn’t the fucking caff.” simon squares his shoulders and glares at the oversized dickhead that’s wasting his time. “well? can’t you fuckin’ read? staff access only. and you’re not staff so fuck off.” simon barks at the man, not letting him get a word in edgewise to start bitching about stock or whatever it is that he wants. simon couldn’t give a shit, he just wants the customer (and you) to fuck off promptly so he can start moving pallettes around. the customer just blinks and takes several steps back before turning away. you let out a shaky sigh and thank simon quietly. simon hums in acknowledgement and sweeps a critical eye down your lightly trembling form. “he botherin’ ya?” at your nod he hums again before jerking his head towards the back of the warehouse “go put a hi-vis on and sit in the office, i’ll come get you when i’m done on the ‘lift.”. when simon comes back into the office two paper cups of tea in hand thirty minutes later, you offer him a small smile and catch his lips twitch up briefly before he turns away to plunk his cup down on top of a cluttered filing cabinet.

price practically walks into you as you come flying around the end of the plumbing aisle. it’s unusual to see you so far away from the customer service desk and looking so flustered. “alright, love?” his hand is on your elbow as he asks. you crane your neck round to look behind you, too worried about that customer to enjoy his large warm hand on your bare skin. price straightens up and drops his hand away from you when he spots a customer behind you, in his opinion the customer is moving a little too fast to be considered casual. price bristles slightly when he catches the dark look on the gentleman’s face. oh no, he doesn’t like the look of this one at all. especially when you look at price and mouth “help” quickly. price steps forward and puts you at his back, blocking the creep from getting any closer. “can i help you, mate?” his gruff voice is just shy of sounding friendly and you watch his back muscles shift under the black polo top he’s wearing. “no thank you, i wanted to speak with the little woman some more.” god the customer is weird, you shudder a little at being referred to as a “little woman”. price shifts to block the customer’s view of you more fully as he does you notice the back of price’s neck has gone a little red. “not possible. i need her for a job.” price’s words sound like they’re being ground out through gritted teeth in response. “i’m sure simon would be more than willing to help you.” you jolt a little when you spot simon at the customer’s shoulder. a man shouldn’t be able to move so silently in steel toed safety boots. you catch a brief wince flicker across the customer’s face when simon’s hand comes down on his shoulder, slightly too hard to be entirely polite. “ah, um, yes. perhaps that’s for the best.” simon leads the customer away and you step up beside price to thank him. he looks deadly serious when he turns to face you “any time love.” his stern blue stare softens slightly and you’re sure you catch his gaze flicker to your mouth briefly before he clears his throat and turns away “c’mon then. back to the returns desk with you.”.

- -

AN: i have very much hidden from customers in the warehouse and behind the paint desk at B&Q. don’t be like reader (or me) and hide in the goods-in area, you will get shouted at for it.

translation for johnny’s scots: “pitin’ the hems oan” = putting the hems on, meaning to put something in order or to restrain something/someone.

#retail hell au #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #f!reader #female reader #kg #jm #sr #jp #also i'm not saying that the creepy customer is that giant austrian cod guy but i'm not saying that he isn't *wink wonk*#everyone say thank you to early for bringing back my love of retail hell au

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nina-ya · 7 months ago

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A/N: I have no words I was inspired by an anon and I wrote this at 1am and its probably riddled with a bunch of grammar issues CW: erotic depiction of sucking on a popsicle, yeah thats really it law watches you suck a popsicle and he gets horny

The day was egregiously hot and it didn't help that the Polar Tang's ventilation system was broken. You found some freedom from the growing indoor heat on the main deck, laying back on a chair as the warmth seeped into your skin. The heat was absolutely relentless, causing beads of sweat to form on your body. Of course, it was too hot to wear your boiler suit, so you opted to lounge around in a tank top and shorts.

With a sigh, you reached for the cooler of popsicles you had brought with you, the icy treat offering some semblance of relief from the heat. You brought the popsicle up to your lips and started to suck on it, your tongue wrapping around the frozen treat as it plunged into your mouth. The contents of the popsicle started to melt and the sweet syrup started to dribble down the sides of your mouth, some droplets even cascading down your chin and landing right onto your chest.

As you savored the sweetness of the popsicle, you couldn't help but feel a gaze boring into you. That gaze belonged to none other than Law. His eyes were intense, the golden orbs fixed on your every movement.

This did not deter you, though. You brought the popsicle right back up to your lips, your tongue tracing the length of it as you sucked on it teasingly. Your eyes locked with Law and you could notice the way his demeanor shifted at your actions. Glancing down you could see the growing tightness in his jeans, an indicator that you are absolutely having an effect on him.

You pulled the popsicle from your lips with a small pop, and you transferred it to the other hand, taking the opportunity to lick the sticky sweetness that dripped onto your fingers. The sight only bringing Law closer and closer to losing his internal battle of restraint. You had him right where you wanted him. You knew all he could think about was how he could have your mouth wrapped around him instead, but here you two are, unable to make a proper move just yet due to the possibility of someone coming out to catch you guys. But that just makes that more exciting, doesn't it?

With that, you heard the thump of his footsteps as Law closed the distance between you, sitting besides you as his hands wrap around you to hoist you up. He guided you onto his lap and you dropped the popsicle onto the ground as his lips crashed against yours. His tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of the popsicle on your lips. You moaned into the kiss, bringing one of your hands to the back of his head to pull him in more and deepen the kiss.

The both of you pulled back from the kiss with heavy pants, his own lips glossy from your exchanged saliva and slightly tinted the color of your popsicle. You could see what he was asking for before he even spoke a single word. You shifted off of the chair, knees hitting the ground as you planted yourself between his legs. You worked to free him from the confines of his jeans as you planned to fulfill those dirty little thoughts he had while staring at you sucking that popsicle from afar.

#nina writes~✦#trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader

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multiwreckedmess · 8 months ago

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February Filth Fest Day 22

Prompt: Masturbation Pairing: Gymrat!Yeosang x fem!reader WC: 1,760 Summary: Yeosang has an embarrassing problem. Have you ever heard of a core-gasm?

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Yeosang or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW/CW: Male masturbation, sort of subby Yeosang, lots of praise for yeosang, yeosang called handsome and big boy, reader called “hot” and has breasts. tbh not much to warn about.

Yeosang has started wearing two pairs of pants to the gym. It’s not really a notable change to anyone, simply adding some compression leggings to a pair of sweats or loose shorts wasn’t revolutionary fashion. If anyone asked, he’d planned to joke that it was “pump cover” or something like that. As if the problem was that easily explainable. No no, the problem had only started recently, as he worked to define his abs further. Yeosang wanted to fulfill his title of the “statue of Ateez '' to perfection. It was the addition of hanging leg lifts, pushed into the workout by his trainer, that were the culprit. Meant to better define his v-cut and improve his posture, it seemed the exercise provided other less welcome effects. In particular and perhaps most curiously, was seemingly spontaneous orgasm. Almost always on the 2nd to last rep of the final set, as Yeosang trembled and fought against gravity, he’d feel the familiar dangerous twinge in his core. Unable to stop it, endorphins would flood him as warmth spread into his underwear. The first time it happened he jogged to the locker room to change, horrified at the thought that he’d pissed himself. It wasn’t, he hadn’t. Instead sticky white clung to him as he peeled back his clothing. Embarrassing. And then it happened again, two days later. And it kept happening, not every time but enough. Enough that Yeosang had to wear two pairs of pants to hide the stain as it soaked through. “I like those pants!” You remark as you pass Yeosang who is drinking feverishly from his water bottle. Track pants with snaps up the sides to the very top, mostly unfastened, allowing the fabrics to billow between his legs. “Very ‘Magic Mike’ if you wanted to just rip them off. Heeeyaw!” You mimic the motion and giggle. Yeosang chuckles and nods, but you’re already halfway to another machine. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you work in between sets together. Energetic yet reserved, friendly but solitary. In a way you remind him of Wooyoung. You have more of an ass though, and certainly more of a bust. He chides himself for noticing, it’s indecent of him to ogle, but it’s hard to miss how the tight spandex hugs every curve so beautifully. “The way you’re staring at me I’m gonna think you want to fight me or fuck me,” you blurt in passing from machine to machine. Yeosang’s ears go red and he stammers. “So sorry,” his eyes burn holes in the floor. “I was just spacing-” you’d already moved on to your set, but he keeps going, keeps apologizing and stuttering and blushing. For some reason he can’t stop himself from it, having so egregiously breached so many unspoken rules of the gym recently, he rambles on like a kid in a confession booth for the first time. Pausing mid set, you laugh, startling him. “You’re actually really cute for a gym bro.” This stops him, looking up at you again incredulously. “I’m not aiming for cute!” Your eyes are kind, “oh? So you’re just naturally flusterable?” You ask as you giggle. Yeosang’s mouth flaps open and closed, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Okay handsome, I’m going to go finish up on the treadmill if it’s all the same to you.” It’s your turn to stare as Yeosang finishes up his workout, rounding out with leg raises. He’s really beautiful when he does each exercise, nose crinkling with effort as his muscles shake. Closing his eyes and knitting his brow, his pouty lips begin to tremble, jaw slackening. All of his muscles seem to seize at the top of the leg lift, eyes flying open as he lets out the most pitiful whine. Yeosang’s expression changes from pleasure to panic as you look at each other. He starts to try to scuttle away, tail between his legs as he strategically speed walks to the locker room. The room has never felt farther than it does as Yeosang feels you breathing down his neck. The sanctuary of the men’s locker room where he can clean up the mess he’s made both literally and figuratively. Maybe even cancel his membership as he sits in a stall. A small hand with a firm grip gets his shoulder as he reaches the door. “Did you just cum?” “Don’t ask that so loud,” he whimpers. “Someone could hear you.” “Who? The teen at the front desk with his headphones in? There’s not exactly a ton of people here right now. But wait,” you shake your head, “you didn’t answer, did you cum?” Feet stuck to the ground by a supernatural magnetic force, Yeosang nods shamefully with a high pitched whine. “It just happens sometimes, it’s not- I’m not a perv.” “But you aren’t even hard,” you start to wonder aloud, eyes locking to the crotch of his pants. Yeosang is fully flushed, beat red from his chest to the tips of his ears. “I know, it’s so-it looks like I-” Yeosang stutters, his cock twitching in interest so suddenly he jolts a bit more upright. It’s a small comfort that if anything you look fascinated by him instead of horrified or angry. Your hand migrates down his arm, tracing a vein from his bicep to his wrists where he fears you can feel his pulse pounding wildly. “Show me. Can you do it again?” Yeosang’s eyes roll back as blood flows into his rapidly engorging member. If the post workout high didn’t have him dizzy, this certainly did. The husky purr to your tone melodically curling around his ears. It’s the opposite reaction that he’d never planned for. All of the time he’d rehearsed in his head what to do if someone noticed but never had he thought about if a person wanted him to do it again. He starts to shake his head, he’d only ever done it once a workout. “You wanna see me cum?” “I’m sorry if i’m being too forward but I’m-I’m interested,” you stammer, the weight of your question finally hitting you like a ton of bricks. “I thought you-sorry if i misread-” It’s Yeosang’s turn to panic, eyes wide as his hands spread open palmed in front of him. “Ah! No! I’m-I’m-you’re-” he gulps, mouth dry as the desert. Brow furrowing he doesn’t even register the decision he makes. It happens so fast. He tugs you with him, back pushing through the locker room door, into a stall. “I’ve only ever done it once like that but I can-” “I could help!” You offer as you watch him tug his first layer of pants off his body. There’s a large splotch, not obvious on the black fabric from afar but mere inches away its hard to miss the shiny dampness of the area. Instinctively you reach forward to touch him, already at half mast and growing. Yeosang nearly yelps, “no! If you do I’ll-” the blush on his cheeks darkens, “you’re really hot.” You smirk, “okay then handsome, I’ll watch.” Unceremoniously, Yeosang tugs the second pair of shorts and his boxers down to his thighs, the mess of cum and sweat still coating his pubic area and cock. Purple and blue veins run prominently up his member all the way up to the flare of his red tapered tip. He pulls his tight black tanktop up enough to expose the muscles of his torso. Taut abs, defined vlines and muscles you didn't even know the name of all on full display as he drags his fingers up the underside of his shaft. “God you’re beautiful,” you murmur, sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyelids flutter and quads tense, the refractory period is much shorter than he thought. “Ah! Ha, you-you-too,” Yeosang gasps and giggles at the same time, leisurely pumping his cock. “Your tits are really-oh my god- from here- they’re so-” he shudders and gasps, a weak spurt of precum erupting from the tip. You scoot closer to better admire him. His hands are just as veiny, large around his equally girthy member. “Where’d you hide all that?” He whines a tiny high pitched sound from the back of his throat. You can see his abs tense and kick his diaphragm up as a wave of endorphins hit. Almost a direct opposite of his ripped physique, the vocalizations that escape him are small and squeaky, the product of both pain and pleasure. “You like it when I call you handsome? When I tell you how big and thick your cock is?” “Ghnughn- yes,” he chokes back a moan. The praise immediately goes to his head, his grip tightens and pace speeds up. “Moan more for me, you sound so pretty.” A guttural groan escapes from him as he shakes, followed shortly by a hiccuped inhale. “I’m close.” His cock is almost purple with engorgement, precum flowing out of the tip easily. Hips working in tandem with his fist, the sounds of his whining and mewling that flood the bathroom are unmistakable. “Hurry, cum. Cum for me,” you urge him, scooting just a bit closer, close enough to feel the warmth of the air around him. “Shit- wha-where-” “On me on my face on my tits, wherever you want, big boy, coat me in it.” The twinge of desperation in your voice sets him off. He’s beautiful when he cums, head tilting back to expose his muscular neck and sharp jaw, drawn out high pitched whimper is the cherry on top. A forceful jolt of release erupting forth from him and coating your cheek, hot and sticky. The next spurt drops from your jawline to your tits which is quickly followed by another volley aimed squarely at the center of your chest. Yeosang’s vision swimming he could swear he still saw you slowly rubbing the liquid against yourself, lifting a finger to your mouth to clean it with your tongue. The thought makes him nearly black out, hand slamming into the wall of the stall to catch his balance. “Which locker is yours?” Your breath is hot on his ear. He didn’t even know you’d stood up. His head swims again under the spell of your proximity. “117.” “Wait a sec before you come out, it’ll look less suspicious.” He nods, and collapses back onto the toilet, he needs to collect himself anyway. The entire encounter feels like a fever dream, it’s not until your note falls out of his locker that he starts to concede maybe it wasn’t.

Sorry this is so late. Lightly based on someone at some point saying “what if Yeosang cums when he works out.” I don’t remember where i saw this but whoever you are, yeah, what if?

#February Filth Fest #ateez smut #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang smut #atz smut #atz yeosang smut #kpop smut #yeosang x reader

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ratatatastic · 2 months ago

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the things ekky has done or said that i cant stop thinking about. the 4 minute cut.

#theres a lot more #but those videos exist in vertical and like wow yeah #obviously because of that honourable mentions:#ekky on the pole almost kicking luosty in the face falling on his ass while he gets hauled up by multiple cats and mikksy put his hat back #ekky calling forsy a perfect swede #ekky slowdancing with sasha at the club #ekky saying im below you to benny while pointing out his name #ekky showing off his tat every minute he can by pulling up his shorts at the parade and gave us an egregious look at his dick #the first time ekky and mikksy do the bumpy ritual and ekky grunts at each bump and goes I LIKE THAT #any practise day mini mic shenanigans i.e “forsy cuz i love him” “forsy but only with his shirt off”#when he went tarps off for his cupday because it was raining on the golfcourse #additionally when he shimmied the cup to feeling hot hot hot #that time he was wearing shorts that they were bunching up in the front and he had to “subtly” pick it out in front of a crowd of phins fans #that time he organised a sturgeon tagging trip and invited the boys who liked fishing and also monty for vibes #because fishing is his love language #oh letting maffhew pour champagne in his mouth at the club #feeling up stolie at the end of the parade and lifting up his shirt #drinking out of the cup with forsy and also feeding himself the champgane cam but forsy taking it away from him #him hugging senko into his stall #honestly anytime he brings up forsy whether its his footspeed/speed. his body.#or how blessed he is to play with him #and likening him to a greek god #please dont make me go on

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

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I know that yuu going for every event just so the player can experience the event from their pov, but I do wonder if in game, yuu are just tired of being dragged places. the first few times probably were fun! they got to experience different places in a world they don't know! but after the second time, I feel like it would get exhausting, especially considering some kind of chaos follows them onto their trips. I can imagine yuu desperately trying not to go on trips only for luck to constantly be against them haha

Yeah, most likely! There's always some convenient excuse that amounts to Yuu and Grim being present yet insignificant 99% of the time.

The most egregious example of convenience that comes to my mind is how Yuu and Grim went along to the City of Flowers/Fleur City.. Crowley claimed they might be able to gain more knowledge of how to get Yuu back to their original world from this conference for talented young mages. (That topic never comes up again in the event.) Depending on who you ask, you might find fans that say it's a missed opportunity that the ONE event where being magicless is an advantage, they didn't give Yuu a bigger role in saving the day and instead relegated to them to off-screen involvement.

I feel like Yuu actually doesn’t mind traveling to places beyond NRC! (After all, as large as the school’s campus is… surely it starts to feel samey after a while, a change of scenery would be welcome.) Most events which involve travel typically give you the chance to pick between two dialogue options to express your own interest in tagging along (though it is typically Grim who first expresses wanting to go).

There’s really no down sides to it either—they don’t have to pay for transportation, food, or housing so every trip is basically a free vacation and a chance to experience extremely different countries and cultures!! The set-ups can be super swanky too due to how affluent some of the students hosting them are (Kalim, Leona, now Vil). No jet lag either, since the Mirror of Darkness instantly teleports them to wherever they want to go. That’s the dream life 😂 And while it’s true that problems sometimes arise during these trips, they’re often small personal conflicts that Yuu and Grim don’t need to intervene in or help with. (Someone insulted Deuce’s mom, competing against the delinquents/RSA in a race, helping the fireworks guy, seeing who wins Catch the Tail, etc.) It’s definitely more relaxed overall than Crowley knocking on their door every few weeks to personally ask them to fix problems.

I guess it really depends on the type of Yuu you have in mind (assuming we’re talking Yuusonas and not the generic in-game Yuu)? I can see why constantly going on trips might be exhausting if you picture Yuu as being more introverted, or perhaps more short-tempered or tired due to whatever else they have on their plate. It would suck if they didn’t actually enjoy their travels…

#twisted wonderland #twst #Grim #Yuu #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #glorious masquerade spoilers #Dire Crowley #Leona Kingscholar #Kalim Al-Asim #Deuce Spade #Vil Schoenheit #tamashina mina spoilers #white rabbit fest spoilers #harveston sledathon spoilers #a firelit sky over the sands spoilers

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cellophaine · 4 months ago

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Chapter III: RALLY

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: More flirting if you can believe it.

Author's Note: I did not run this through Grammarly so hopefully it's still digestible.

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

The music, the chatter, the shouts of excitement reverberated throughout the big house and became a concentrated fusion of noise in your ears. You took another sip of the spiked fruit punch and grimaced at the taste. It burned all the way down, but the buzz it provided was pleasant. You watched all these strangers mingling about, chatting and dancing and playing games you weren’t privy to, no one paid attention to you. After several failed attempts at striking and maintaining a conversation, you retreated to the corner of the kitchen after escaping the common area. The array of food and drinks was within reach, and from here, you could people watch.

Midterms came with the guarantee of long hours into the nights, and went with the promise of celebration. Ashley, your roommate, was more than eager to deliver on that promise, and also the reason why you came to the party. Your other roommate, Grace, went out with her book club, leaving you the only chaperone, and confidence boost Ashley needed to talk to her crush. It took an egregious amount of convincing from Ashley for you to finally agreed. You needed to get out more, Ashley said on the way to the party, you worked so hard for midterms and it showed in the results. Your wandering mind thought of Art, a minor diversion in your study these days. You hadn’t seen him since the day he treated you to lunch, and never approached him for the few times you saw him on campus. Most of the time, he had a bag of racquet on his shoulder. You wondered if he noticed you, and if he also contemplated whether to say hi to you. You were grateful either way, since you had no doubt he would become a great distraction that you couldn’t afford.

More people poured into the kitchen, so you took that opportunity to fill your cup with a ladle of the same fruit punch, and slipped outside through the back door. The yard was big, with high wooden fence wrapped around the property. There was a pool to your left, and an open grass field with a bonfire blazing. Most people hung around the pool, so you made a beeline for the fire. You shivered as a cold breeze brushed over the skin on your exposed arms. You chose the small wooden bench after asking the few people who were already there if you could take a seat. The flame, alongside the alcohol, warmed you up from the inside out. You grimaced at a small sip, the taste of the punch somehow became more foul than the last. Bracing yourself, you took another, hoping the pleasant buzz would amp up, and wishing the time would past even quicker.

“If this isn’t the girl I’ve been looking for.”

You thought your hearing was mistaken, but it was him. You turned your head, and there Art was, standing two feet away, looking at you with a bottle of Sprite in his hand. He was wearing a Stanford hoodie and shorts, the golden waves of his hair were tousled softly in the gentle wind. You couldn’t help the complacency in your voice.

“You’ve been looking for me?”

“All the time. Ever since when I last saw you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a stalker.”

“No. Just an admirer.”

You took another moment to appreciate the sight of him in front of you, before scooting to the other side of the bench as much as you could. You patted the empty space you’d just left, and Art immediately accepted your invitation. His knee knocking against yours as he sat down. Your thighs grazed when he settled, and you felt your cheeks warm at the contact.

“How are you?”

“So what brought you–?”

You talked at the same time, and then broke into a nervous chuckle together. Art jerked his chin at you.

“You go first.”

“Okay. Well, my roommate brought me here.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s with her crush. I’m here because she didn’t want to go alone. You?”

“Robbie invited me. He’s my hitting partner this semester. He knows some guy who lives here.”

You hummed noncommittally. You cleared your throat after a mouthful of your drink when Art asked.

“How did your midterm go?”

“It went … very well. You?”

“Uhh, maybe less well than you.”

“If you study as much as you train then I have no doubt that you did great.”

You said it without much thought. Art looked at you with a new interest.

“How did you know that?”

Your brows knitted in confusion.

“Know what?”

“That I train. Quite often.”

You stumbled over your words as you thought of an answer.

“Well, it was … I just … I’ve seen you on campus a few times, and you always have a racquet bag with you. In the few times that I saw you. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Art leaned back as if to take you in fully. The way he cocked an eyebrow coupled with the playful smile on his lips screamed mischief.

“So you’ve been stalking me.”

“Absolutely not.”

Your denial was immediate. You diverted your gaze to the fire and took a long sip from your cup to hide the embarrassment tinged in your features.

“You know, if you want to hang out more with me …”

Art leaned in, and you couldn’t resist the pull from his gaze. A light citrus scent stirred at your sense of smell, and it was soothing.

“ … all you have to do is to give me your phone number. You know, to make it easier for both of us.”

You pretended to think about his proposition, sucking air through your teeth.

“I don’t know. You haven’t proved yourself to be anything but a distraction.”

“Me? A distraction?”

“Yup. As a straight A student like myself, I can’t afford distraction.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the fact that it was your clumsy attempt at flirting wth Art, but you felt bolder, your lips more loose. He moved in even closer, invading your space, and you could see the flutter of his long lashes that framed his widened eyes. Everything about him made you feel like you were in a big trouble.

“Oh my god. You’re obsessed with me.”

“No, I’m so not.”

“Yes, you are. You must think about me all the time.”

Your cheeks burned and you were certain it wasn’t due to the alcohol. You felt like you were caught with a crime you were guilty of committing. Art had been more than just a passing thought. He was a frequent recurrence in your mind. You stammered for a defensive stance.

“What about you? If anything, you’re the one who’s obsessed. You’ve been asking me for my number every time we see each other.”

“Right. You can deny it all you want, but I can see it clear as day.”

“I’m not denying anything. I’m just … telling you that I don’t … think about you.”

His brows raised as if he didn’t believe you.

“Not that … often, anyway.”

He grinned, satisfied with your answer. You put a hand over your eyes.

“Can we … move past this, please?”

Art chuckled and leaned away with his hands held up, satisfied like a purring cat after a big meal. He watched as you took a swig of your empty drink.

“Do you want a refill?”

“Yeah. Not the same thing though. I’ve had enough of gasoline juice.”

His chuckle was light, rising above everything else around you even though you weren’t alone.

“I can find something decent for you.”

You moved to go with him, but Art held out a hand.

“You stay here. I’ll get it for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You watched as he disappeared into the crowded house. You caught the smile that crept onto your face, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. The waning crescent was an imposing presence amongst the stars in the clear sky. The fire was warm, and so was the feeling you harboured inside. You were glad that you stuck around and saw Art again, the one person who had occupied your mind more often than you’d like to admit. The easy banter and flirtatious remarks were only bonuses to what he was to you. A person who seemed to like you for who you were, and not for what you could do for him. He had been nothing but nice to you, reducing your well-constructed wall to a feeble fence that parted in half whenever he came around.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as a gust of wind swooped by. You rubbed your arms to alleviate the cold and drew into yourself. And then you heard it, his name in a cheerful voice. Your head turned to the source as if the call was for you. Art had already walked to her with a drink and a paper bag in hands. You watched as they conversed. She was gorgeous, her light golden brown skin glowed even in the low light. She was slim and tall, almost matched Art’s height. From this distance, you couldn’t hear them, but you could see the way they laughed at something she said, their heads bowed towards each other in the movement. You felt like you were an intruder in their conversation, even though you were only watching. She touched his arm and left, leaving Art looking after her as she disappeared into the house. Something stirred in the back of your mind, but you quickly dismissed it before it even took form. You whipped your head back to the fire, pretending that you’d been looking at it as Art turned around and made his way over to you. Art held out the cup and you accepted it with a word of appreciation. He settled in next to you for the second time that night, and your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“Did you miss me while I was gone?”

“You wish.”

He chuckled, and looked at the way you held yourself.

“Are you cold?”

“A little bit. But it’s fine. The fire is keeping me warm.”

An involuntary shiver broke through your body.

“You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

Art stood up and took off his hoodie. The movement tugged the white t shirt he wore underneath upward, and you could catch a glimpse of his leaned lower torso, the faint V line leading into the band of his underwear. You quickly averted your eyes to meet his own under the messy blond locks, your cheeks burned at the quick glance.

“No, Art, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

He held out the hoodie.

“Just take it.”

It looked like he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you took it and put it on. The sleeves covered your hands and more, the body fabric pooled around your midsection. His warmth settled over you like an embrace, igniting the excitement that brewed underneath your skin. You relaxed into the scent and the comfort of him, and sighed softly.

“All better?”

He put his arms around you, making rapid up and down motions to create friction and warming you up. Your heart jumped at the contact even though there was a layer between his hands and your skin.

“This is really nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He let you go and held up the brown paper bag he left at his feet.

“Do you want some s’mores?”

“Wow. I’ve never seen someone who’s this bad at making s’mores.”

Art commented after your third burned marshmallow while you frantically blew on it to put out the fire. The charred remain sagged sadly on the stick. You frowned.

“It’s still … edible.”

“Edible? It looks like a lump of coal.”

You bowed your head, defeated.

“Here.”

Art put a perfectly toasted marshmallow on a graham cracker for you.

“Take it. And please, it’s just a s’more.”

You accepted the treat, and bit into it. The gooey sweetness enveloped your tongue, and you hummed in approval. You watched as Art discarded your burned sweet into the fire.

“How are you so bad at this?”

“Well, my parents aren’t exactly the outdoor type.”

“Lucky for you, you have a master at work here.”

He taught you to put the marshmallow near the ember, not directly in the flame. Eventually, you made one without burning it to crisp. Art cheered as you showed in your stellar achievement in between the graham crackers. Your heart hammered as he leaned in and took a bite from out of your hand. He closed his eyes, a moan sounded deep in his throat.

“The sweet victory of my teaching.”

A marshmallow string dripped over his bottom lip. Your eyes glued to his movement as he swiped it off, brought the thumb to his mouth and licked it. But there was still some left on the curve of his lip. Out of instinct, your hand reached for the spot he missed and wiped it off with careful tenderness. Art held still, and his breathing seemed to follow. He gazed at you with an impossible softness in his eyes, and you felt a new fervour of heat warming your face. Neither of you said anything, nor dared to breathe too loudly. Your hand lingered on his face, and you felt an urge to run it over his jawline, to pull him close, eager to taste the sweetness of the treat from his lips.

A loud whoop shrilled in your ears, followed by the sound of water being splashed. Pulled away from the moment, you drew your hand back and cleared your throat.

“I think I’ve mastered it now.”

The night ended with Art walking you home. Before you left party, you found Ashley and made sure she was okay. She beamed ear to ear and told you she’d spend some more time here. You asked her to be careful and to text you if she needed anything. You parted ways, finding Art waiting for you outside on the green lawn. The walk to your apartment building was long, but the two of you filled the distance with things like classes and what you’d been up to since you last saw each other. Art told you about his upcoming match and what he’d done to prepare for it. You expressed interest in seeing him play, and Art perked up at that like a little puppy.

“I’ll let you know when the date is announced.”

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the gate to your building.

“This is me.”

“Are you sure it’s not for another block?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. You observed him for moment, tracing the soft edge of his eyes, the way his lips flattened against themselves, shaping into a faint, endearing smile. You held out your hand.

“Give me your phone.”

“For what?”

You arched an eye brow. It took him three seconds to arrive at the same thought you had. He scrambled to take his phone out, almost dropping it to the ground. You put your number in along with your name and saved it.

“Here you go. You can move on to something else now.”

“Never.”

Art returned his phone to his pants’ pocket. A need struck you, something you’d wanted to do since he sat down next to you earlier in the night. The urge was overwhelming, your heart hammered in your chest, your skin itched to make it happen. But you didn’t want to overthink anymore. Brushing asides all cautions, you stepped closer so that you could grasp his shoulder and rose on your tiptoes. Your lips softly brushed his cheek, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. You watched as a blush quickly spread all over his neck and ears, tinting his cheeks a faint pink.

“Good night, Art.”

You entered through the waist high iron gate, and walked the distance before hearing Art saying good night. You turned around and waved at him. He held up a hand and reciprocated. Once you made it to your room, you fell onto your bed and sighed. You felt light and happy, already recounting everything that happened tonight in your head. You put a hand on your hammering heart, and only then, you realized that you were still in his hoodie. You pulled the collar up to your nose and inhaled the comforting scent of him. You smiled. It would be yours for now.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

#art donaldson #art donalson x reader #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x f!reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fanfiction #challengers #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers x you #challengers x y/n

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wings-of-ink · 2 months ago

Text

Looking for your Input for IF Patreon

Hello my friends and neighbors! I hope you are all safe and well. I had some things to share with you and I am once again fishing for thoughts and opinions.

Like many of us who create these IFs, I am strongly considering a Patreon. I have no plans to go exclusively to Patreon, so don't fret. I want to make extra content to go along with any IF I work on, and I'd like to be able to put more things into these projects such as real art (including character portraits), and not just the stuff I flounder through on Canva. I'd like to pay my artist a fair wage and devote more of my time to this. Getting some support would help me allocate even more to these projects and extras. I'm testing the waters here to see if it's sustainable for both myself and subscribers as well. I do not know what timeframe I'm looking at to start this either.

I only want to do this if it's worth the while for everybody, so I'm putting out feelers and asking for your input.

Most of all - I want to know what you want in a Patreon sub. I also want to know what you feel to be a fair sub price for different tiers. Over the years, when I have been able, I have subbed to help support my favorite creators at all different levels. So, I have some ideas on what I am looking for in a subscription, what keeps me coming back, and what prices are both fair for the effort of the creator as well as for my pocket. But, what suits me may not be what you want, so that's why I need some feedback.

Below, I have compiled my ideas, so far, for possible tiers. None of these are set in stone, just a framework to build on to see if I'm on the right track. At the bottom is a poll (of course, it's like my favorite thing), and is probably the first of a few about this topic I will use. I welcome comments and suggestions on this topic. Tell me what you are looking for in a Patreon. What do you want from one each month? What keeps you subscribed? Please feel free to comment below or to send comments and suggestions via the Ask inbox, especially if you prefer to be anon (do let me know if you do not want your response posted - I may post some that either have questions or that I find relevant to the conversation).

I still do not know for certain what the ultimate future of God-Cursed will look like (meaning when it is all finished). I've played with the idea of eventually refining it to sell on itch and/or Steam. I have to admit that being able to do so would really feel like a huge accomplishment to me. I've always had dreams of being published and such, and it feels like a part of that dream. I, personally, prefer to buy IFs through either platform whenever I can. It supports my favorite authors, shows my appreciation, it compiles my favorite stories into an easy-to-find library, and I can relive my favorite stories over and over easily. So, needless to say, this is calling to me more and more.

Anyway, what I have come up with so far for possible offerings are these. Please let me know if something like this would work for you or if you have any suggestions for improvement:

An appreciation/tip jar - if the other tiers aren't for you or you just want to give a little love. Subscribers could get updates and public posts, and participation in polls.

A "Supporter" level - all the other stuff plus GC demo releases 1 month (30 days) in advance. I debated about the time, but I want to really make the early access feel worth it. This level would also be privy to some "insider" info (things cut, character development, the egregious typos, etc…). Of course there would be some sort of dev-log to go with this as well.

A "Plus" tier - all the above plus early release of demos for other IFs, more "behind the scenes" type things, and I'm thinking some POVs and other extra content (some interactive) such as short stories. These extras need not be exclusive to IFs either if anyone is interested in other things I write.

"SMUT" or "Spicy" tier - (being very honest, I'd be the most excited for this tier, lol) all the above including all things smut for each IF. This will include interactive extras, short stories, and any other horny content we want. Likely will run some polls and take suggestions for the spice you desire each month.

"Smut plus" (lol) - all the above, PLUS a patreon-only IF that I will have in the works (so, access to 3 projects in total). I have an idea for an IF that will focus on 1 RO at a time (each with their own complete and unique story within the same world), and I am itching to write it even if updates for it will be a bit slow. It will be more like a traditional dating sim type thing and may comprise all sorts of genres. This may be one that would be good for just subscribing on months that will have updates, and that's something I would probably post about publicly so if you're just interested in getting access, you don't have to worry about staying subbed.

And finally a sort of "Power Supporter" tier - this may be like a limited number sort of thing and be a bit pricey (not sure yet how much). You'd get a custom interactive story set in whatever world of mine you want that can be spicey or not. You'd give me all your MC's details (mostly cannon things but some liberties could be taken), physical traits and personality, and pick your RO and/or other desired characters. I'd take prompts or ideas from you as well concerning what you'd like in the story. You want a sexcapade - you can have that. You want to have tea with Oswin and his weird twin sisters - you got it. The main limitations are spoilers, of course, especially for any mystery ROs depending on when and if this all comes to pass. There may be some subject-matter that I will not write about, but I'd let you know what is out of bounds for me.

Naturally, I would also pop your name in the credits, I just don't know which tier that should go on.

So, there you have it. This has been on my mind for a while and I've gotten some questions and messages asking about if I will do something like this, so I'd like to give it a go at least.

Looking forward to hearing your ideas and desires! ^_^

~Lunan

#god cursed if #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #patreon

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biscuitsngravie · 10 months ago

Text

"time's up."

levi x reader

cw: piv, no prep, blowjob, degradation, orgasm denial, rawwwwww

wc: 2,004

Levi is… irritated.

Well, that's the closest to describing the mixture of emotions he’s feeling during this “interaction.”

“Irritated” could best refer to the heat between his legs. The heat that he is praying isn’t visible as he steps behind the desk to sit during the debriefing on the mission. This room is too full of people for you to be such a shameless slut. You wearing that too small top — the one he told you to throw away — and that too small skirt — that he’s sure he threw away — while looking up with… those eyes.

You.

Youyouyouyouyo—

“Ah! And that’s how we make the double decoy! Right, Captain Levi?”

To others his face is deceptively neutral, well, as neutral as a resting bitch face can be. But you, Honee, you know better than anyone else. You’re the only one who notices the extra firm grip he has on his teacup, the cool flame that ignites behind his eyes the way he pointedly avoids meeting your gaze. And surely the squirming from the continuous pressing of your thighs has caught his peripheral at least once or twice.

“Right. That’s it for now. We’ll do a test run in forty-five minutes. Gear up and be ready to leave.” The room empties rather quickly after a quick salute. And of course… you are the last to leave. “Honee.”

You jump out your skin, your back already turned from him, but too far from the door to craft the excuse of not hearing him. Your mouth upturns into a grin that you’re sure would accrue more points towards your impending punishment. So you remain with your back turned to him, answering an all too even voice, “Yes?”

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” slow and deliberate footsteps stalk behind you, growing louder than the thrumming in your chest and between your legs. He stops just barely short of touching you, lowering his voice so that it sits as not much more than a gentle purr against your ear. “I expect to see you in the field. Dressed properly.”

He walks around you out the door, presumably to his office to retrieve his gear. It’s only once you hear the click of the door followed by fading footsteps do you finally breathe. You bite your lip and groan, gripping the hem of your skirt to keep from reaching a hand up it instead.

Your feet move faster than your brain, flying to his study. It was always this with you two: some seemingly innocuous thing catches his attention, to which he finds stress relief and solace in your slutty little pussy. Though this time his distress lies with the very one he comes to for comfort (of sorts), and the very thought of it is proving to be the bane of his existence.

After three quick raps, an enthusiastic “Enter,” allows you in. He’d be disgusted at your perverted mind if you admitted that his look of disdain had you nearly crying down your legs. That, punctuated by a curt “What?” has you biting back a small whimper.

“I—” you cut yourself off as you evaluate your best course of action. Outright asking for it has proven effective in the past, but the egregiousness of your behaviour has finally hit you . Before speaking again, you begin racking your brain for a suitable game plan.

Unbeknownst to you, it draws a long pause, to which he prompts, “I don’t have all day.”

His voice makes you flinch as it snaps you back to him out of your cluttered brain. “I’m sorry!” you blurt aloud without much thought.

“I hate liars,” he grunts as he tightens the fastenings on his gear. His hands move methodically over the latches, ensuring he doesn’t slam someone in the face with a cartridge of spare blades that come loose. “Hurry up before—”

“I just!” you shrug as you look off to the side, your face tingling with a warmth as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “I just wanted some attention, I don’t know,” is finally pushed through in a low mumble.

Levi closes the gap between you two, grabbing your face in his hands to turn you back towards him. When your eyes drift away, he follows their gaze until you’re forced to succumb to his intense eye contact. “Are you saying I don’t give you enough attention?”

Your eyes nearly bug out. “No! It’s just that—”

“If you wanted more attention you could just say that. But no, you decided to be a fucking brat, instead,” he grits. Your eyes swell up a bit, your wires crossed between a growing fear and an intense need.

While you decide which emotion to land on, Levi stalks over to his chair back behind his desk. He spreads his legs and points to the floor. Without even a hint of shame, your feet fold over each other to kneel not too far from the bulge in his pants. Your mouth begins to salivate at the sight, but you will them to make contact with grey ones that hold a cool flame behind their irises.

Levi is nearly impressed with how quickly you take position: your legs folded under you with your hands folded in your lap. It’s easy to see your shameless cleavage from this angle, and part of him passively wonders if you’re overdue for a tit job. He pushes the thought away immediately. No matter how nice his cum looks painting your skin, he needs to focus.

“Go ahead.”

The simple command has you clawing at his belt buckle. Your fingers make quick work of it all, grateful in the way he lifts his hips for you to pull them down a bit. You don’t even care enough to bring them to his ankles, only down to the knee as you begin to try and free his still hardening dick from his boxers. You use the hole in the front to let it spring upwards towards his abdomen. It’s only a second before you’re wrapping your lips around the head, suckling at the slit as you lap up the precum that’s already begun to drip there.

Though he’s silent, the twitch in his cock when he feels you moaning in satisfaction is enough for you. You bob your head a bit, holding the base to keep steady as you swirl your tongue around the shaft. Your neglected clit is only soothed with the feeble rubbing of your thighs. You rock back and forth a bit, feeling the wetness coating your thighs grow.

“Do what you must,” he sighs in faux exasperation, hiding his own arousal in the fingers gripping his chair, “you have my full attention.”

The purr in his voice as he eggs you on goes straight to your core, just like the hand now playing with your clit through your underwear. Unsurprisingly, you’re met with an undeniable wetness, your own arousal having completely drenched the fabric.

Two deft fingers massage your aching clit as you work on him in earnest. You pull away to breathe and pool your saliva a bit, opening your mouth to watch it coat the length of his dick. As much as Levi hates a mess, you’re his favorite one to clean up. Watchful eyes follow you as you trace the prominent vein on the left side of his cock. His nostrils flare as the only sign of his arousal he allows through.

Your own body almost feels as if it’s vibrating with need. Levi’s gaze remains uninterrupted, deceivingly bored if it weren’t for the tension in his jaw. You feel naked under his eyes, for he misses nothing. Goosebumps pimple your skin, the vulnerability that rocks you urges you to cover yourself and incites a newfound search for modesty. The way desperate fingers fight against cotton to finger your leaking pussy definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.

Whether it’s annoyance with the pathetic display before him, or his other head thinking, he waves you off his cock, much to your disappointment. You bite back a whine, confused on your infraction, yet trying to avoid another. His voice breaches right through your developing spiral. “Sit.”

Perplexed, you tilt your head and adjust your posture. “I am…”

His facial expression doesn’t change. After a few moments you process the command and excitedly climb into his lap. After a few moments of maneuvering yourself around his gear to properly straddle his lap. Arms cradle his neck in glee, but he lets himself all but be pulled into a kiss. “You have fifteen minutes to get yourself off.”

You begin to open your mouth to protest, but the look he gives you kills any argument you could muster.

Do I make myself clear?

Fifteen minutes.

How much to spend on prep? On stretching? Is worth it to tease yourself a bit or—

“Fourteen.”

“Levi!” you shriek in a mini panic. A grip on your chin ends your oncoming tantrum. Fix your tone. Your voice gets smaller now, meek. “It’s not fair…” you mumble.

“Now you care about fair?”

“I just—”

“For someone closing in on thirteen minutes, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”

“Levi please,” you start getting worried now. You keep your voice hushed, but maintain your urgency.

“Please what?”

Bingo. You’ve won.

The poutiest of lips. The truest of doe eyes. The vulnerability found in an unabashedly neediest of voices. “Can you fuck me?”

Levi’s hand is over your mouth in flash. Momentary confusion is interrupted by a burning between your legs, your cry muffled by a thick layer of calluses. Tears prickle your cheeks, your sniffle all but dying in his palm. You clench uncontrollably around him as you register that he’s bottomed out in one swoop.

Running his other hand up and down your back, he lets your mouth go free as he tucks your face into his neck. He saves the comment on the mess you’re making there as he repositions his hands to your hips. He lifts you up and…

“This is what you wanted,” he cooes.

Slam.

“You wanted attention, huh?” he scoffs.

Slam.

“Bullshit.”

His thrusts speed up, the clanking of his equipment joining the cacophony of sounds the two of you are making; the papping of your asscheeks against his pants; your sniffles twisting into groans; his intermittent grunts as he listens to the wet sounds of your pussy taking him over and over and—

Fuck!

“You’re a fucking riot. Couldn’t survive without it for a week.” he curses to himself when he hears you mewl, every decibel going straight to his dick. “Putting this on. What do you have to say for yourself? Ah?”

He pounds into you from below, his gear rustling erratically as he forces his hips to meet yours. A quick smack to your ass wakes you up beyond your wanton moans. “Ah! I-I…” your mind starts to melt when he comes down to a slow grind, dragging his thick cock along your abused, gummy walls.

He grabs a fistful of you r hair to pull you back. Puffy and weary-eyed, your lip trembles as you futility try to gather your thoughts. “Don’t cry now. You weren’t crying when you put this shit on.”

“L-Levi, I—”

He stops you with a hand in your face and checks the time. Without much ado, slides you off his lap, not sparing you so much as a glance wen you wince. “Time’s up.”

“Levi!” you shriek, entirely too loud.

“Volume,” is his only warning as he tucks himself into his pants. He grabs a spare handkerchief to clean where you leaked out and prays it’s not noticeable.

“What am I supposed to—”

“You were supposed to get yourself off, you understand?” his tone sharp, only surpassed by his gaze. “Not my fault you’re a faulty little cockslut and got distracted.”

He leaves you to yourself, not before smirking when he sees the dripping between your legs. Levi hates messes, but this is one he can get behind.

an: i tried something new. i'm gonna try again soon. after this is true form s*kuna x reader cause im a monsterfucker first before a fraudkuna hater, so ig ill be putting my whole jordussy into it 😭

taglist: @honeeslust @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @halobuns

#jordussy #jordussy speaks #levi x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you

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