#brains a bit cloudy

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Watching Dimension 20 can very often just be staring at Brennan Lee Mulligan and thinking "oh, wow, so that's what it would have been like if my dad gave a shit about me."

[araneitela]

I was going to talk about emotional engagement, and all of those complexities, but then I saw an ad on YT for clothing, and all I could think about was how Kafka is absolutely the type to wear light-colored, high waist trousers, and it'd be perfect. One doesn't just wear high waist things, especially not light-colored because that can highlight all the wrong things, but for her, it highlights all the right things. An utterly refined woman she is, with a good sense of style. And yet, it shouldn't be confused with an inherent craving for deep luxury of any kind.

[thepandalion]

so I finally have. 2 pages planned. for court of the weather. which has been now renamed (for english specifically) as the council of the weathers. because thats what their intro page calls them

anyways. I need more weathers. like the only actual scenario I wrote is the me-based one about a little humanoid who grows strawberries and wants "gentle rains" to help them grow. however I don't share her pronouns and shes also a witch (for art reasons. she's gonna have a straw witch hat with a strawberry pin in it)

I've been thinking of a beekeeper who wants the loud winds to stop and then they learn hes actually weirdly lucky and the winds are a hurricane that his house and beehives are just in the center of where things are usually just very scary and somehow the thing hasn't. moved. so the house and bees are fine but "this loud wind is scaring my bees!" or whatever

also thinking of an archeologist who keeps dropping things and cant find them in the sandstorm bc has to keep their eyes closed

the stories are all gonna be lighthearted though. like by definition. also gonna have reoccurring characters. like strawberry witchling who is gonna start dating summer drizzle after their first meeting in that passage I wrote. like theres gonna be stories of her bringing in strawberry muffins made with the muffins shes growing, or her sitting in drizzles lap in the background of a random page all cutesy. or her making up random issues just to come to see her girlfriend

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[moralchampion]

This rn was so much worse than every single year before this like wtf bro this is seriously how war must feel like, just without the colors

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[pochaccoups]

things you do that make svt bust quick (nsfw)

seungcheol —; tell him how good he’s doing

he’s a leo male… please stroke his ego.

tell him how you love his cock, how big he is, how it hits so deep inside you. tell him “right there,” and “keep going,” and to do it “just like that.”

stroke his possessive side too. tell him no one else can fuck you like he can, no one else can stretch you out so good, no one else can make you cum like he does. tell him that your pussy is made for him only.

be loud for him. god, he loves hearing you moan. say his name, beg for more, sob, whimper, gasp for him. don’t be shy about it. it’ll only be a matter of time before you butter him up enough to make him cum.

jeonghan —; beg

everyone knows yoon jeonghan likes having people at his mercy. he gets a little unhinged when he has power over someone—so imagine what he gets like when you’re writhing on his cock, gasping his name so sweetly, your eyes glimmering with tears as he fucks you hard.

“what is it, pretty?” he asks, and like the devil he is, he slows the movement of hips, pulling out of you until his tip barely kisses your also weeping hole. it’s torture for him too, to leave the hot, tight haven that is your cunt, but to him it’s worthwhile.

“wanna cum, hannie,” you whimper.

“hm… i don’t know if i should let you yet,” he says, dipping back inside just an inch. years of him being yours means you don’t miss the tiny strain in his voice that betrays his perfectly collected demeanour.

“please, hannie, please, please, please, let me cum. i’ve been so good,” you sob, squeezing your thighs where they rest on his hips.

you watch as a switch flips in his eyes within a millisecond. a grin lights up his face and he shudders, and he’s sliding back inside you, fucking in and out of you harder and faster than before. safe to say it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum after that.

joshua —; make eye contact

his pretty doe eyes make staring into them your favourite thing in the world, and if you asked him his favourite pastime, he’d tell you that it was gazing into your irises.

it’s also his biggest weakness. from the way you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his dick, throat gagging even though you’re only halfway down it, joshua feels his sanity slipping away. his fingers curl into the bedsheets below as he watches you work him, revels in the warmth of your tongue sliding up and down his shaft.

when your eyes flick up to meet his he doesn’t stand a chance. not with how glimmering they are, brimming softly with tears, yet swimming with adoration. with worship.

heat washes over his whole body, he’s gasping, and the salty warmth of his release pools on your tongue.

jun —; put his fingers in your mouth

when junhui gets inside you he has a one-track mind. he becomes rapt with pleasure, drunk from the warm squeeze of your pussy around him, focused on nothing but the sensation of you, the sight of you under him, the sound of you in his ears.

the effect you have on him is dangerous, because you’re equally obsessed with him as he is with you, and you’re not afraid to show him.

and you love his hands, he knows you do—knows how you love his slender fingers and their soft touches all over you, inside you. your brain is cloudy, fogged by lust when you take him by his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. your eyes sparkle as your lips wrap around his index finger, your soft tongue swirling around it.

jun’s mouth parts with awe, his eyes growing round. a second later, he stills inside you with a gasp of your name, like he’s praying to you, all the while you’re sucking on his finger like a devil.

hoshi —; scratch him

he’s a little bit of a freak, and a masochist too.

when he’s got you folded in half, hitting all the right spots inside you, you cling to him in every way you can—fingers grabbing at his biceps, his shoulders. one particular stroke of his hips has you squealing.

your nails sink into his skin, crying out his name as you rake them down the toned planes of his back. the second you do, soonyoung is grunting, hips stilling, cock twitching as a sticky warmth suddenly floods your cervix.

the worst part about it is how he always has the stupidest, most shit-eating smug grin on his face when he examines your damage in the bathroom after, and you know that if he could, he would post the selfies he takes in the mirror all over instagram. what’s even worse though? seeing your marks makes him hard again.

wonwoo —; cry

you’re such a sensitive little thing and wonwoo adores you. one orgasm on his fingers and you’re already overstimulated—“but baby, i haven’t even put my cock in you yet,” he’ll coo.

like it’s your fault you have a boyfriend with skilled fingers and a skilled tongue and who knows you inside and out like the back of his hand, who knows where to touch you and how hard and what pace makes you writhe the most.

by the time he does get inside you, you’re gasping and whining and clawing at him, tears springing to your eyes because he’s so big and so deep, but the stretch is so addictive that it’s dizzying. his voice is low and husky as he mutters to you a mixture of teases and praise, calls you his pretty girl and then laughs at sensitive you are, pretends he’s not on the verge of coming from the sound of your choked gasps.

your belly starts to pulse with that familiar heat and by then you’re keening for him, whimpering a mixture of his name and endless pleas as it starts to become too much. your sobs go straight to his cock, and it’s only a matter of time before he reaches his climax, and his gasps of pleasure harmonise with your own cries.

woozi —; pull his hair

he’s been growing his hair out. after all your begging, he finally listened. in a way, though, it’s backfired a little on you, because the longer it gets the more insane you become. and the thing is you never expected him to let it get to his shoulders—and still he doesn’t plan on cutting it. well, good. you would kill him if he did.

when his face is between your legs you’re nothing short of a feral animal—your hips bucking wild against his mouth, your legs trembling on his shoulders, your fingers, of course, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. he makes you whine when he pulls away from your needy, sticky cunt to tsk at you, tells you to cut it out and keep your hands to yourself. (it’s because he’s about to cream his pants).

when he bends you in half beneath him, ruts into you hard and fast and relentless, you need leverage. your hands land on the back of his neck, fingertips grazing at his roots, then one slam of his hips into yours has his cock bumping against the most sensitive spot inside you and your grasping at his hair and crying his name so desperately. no longer can he hold back, strained groans slipping past his lips as he lets go inside you.

dokyeom —; hold his hand

a sentimental sweetheart, seokmin is an utter romantic who thinks that being inside of you, whether in your mouth or your pussy, is intimacy in its purest form. now imagine showing him just how much more intimate things can get.

he’s losing his mind at the feeling of your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the way you swallow his length down making him see stars. he can’t bare to look at you—he needs to focus on taking deep breaths so that he doesn’t cum straight down your throat. then he feels you grabbing at one of his hands, lacing your fingers together, and no amount of deep breathing can stop him from releasing.

and when he fucks you it’s no different—it’s him in near tears, whimpering your name between incoherent words over and over, and as soon as you take his hand in yours and your fingers wrap around his, there’s nothing else he can do but succumb to his own pleasure.

mingyu —; take control

he’s big and strong; strong enough to put you into whatever position he wants, to make you cum at his command, to do just as he pleases with you.

but that’s exactly why he likes it when you slap him around a little.

you can’t exactly bend him into doggy or use your weight to keep him pinned to the mattress, but you can sit yourself pretty on his cock and ride him teasingly slow. you can tell him he’s not allowed to touch you or you’ll stop moving. you can tell him to kiss you, to go slower, to go harder.

you can sit up and put a hand around his throat, still your hips, and tell him he can fuck you himself if he wants to cum. and he’ll do just that—and as soon as you utter the words, he’s gone, whining out curses as he fills you up in white, warm spurts.

minghao —; whisper in his ear

minghao often tells you how he adores your voice. when you talk to him he’s entranced, and he’s always been more of a listener than a talker, and it’s perfect because you always have so much to say, and minghao will listen to every last word of yours.

your voice—minghao’s kryptonite, his achilles’ heel, his undoing and, oh, the way you moan for him when he’s got you on his cock is enough to make his heart stop beating. the perverted part of him wishes he could record you, hide the file away on his phone and listen to you when he’s overseas and he can’t call you. maybe he’ll ask you about that, if he can find the courage.

the final blow is when you’re getting close. you lean in, right next to his ear, so close that your breath sends shivers along his skin. “please, hao, i’m so close,” you whisper, yet you still sound so desperate and depraved. “you are too, right? cum for me, please. i’ll cum for you too.”

so he does just that—minghao gives in and lets his orgasm wash over him, fingertips drawing circles on your clit until mere moments later he hears the sound of your own cresting pleasure and he feels himself getting hard again.

seungkwan —; wrap your legs around him

it’s a fact that seungkwan loves to be close to you. if he could, he would crawl inside of your skin and live in your heart. but since he can’t, constant physical touch is the next best thing.

he likes to think he has relatively good self-control…most of the time. like when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, he’s incredible at keeping in rhythm, fucking into you at the most perfect pace for both you and him, hitting the spot that makes your back arch off the bed.

somehow he never sees it coming—when your arms are snaked around his neck and you’re holding onto him for dear life as he takes you to heaven, and your legs wrap around his waist so that you can pull him in impossibly deep. then you bring his face to yours, and you have the most irresistible little pout on your face when you make your request. “cum inside me, seungkwannie?”

and it’s not like he has much choice with the way you’ve trapped him inside of you, but that’s the very reason why the next second he’s pumping you full, because when it’s you, how is he supposed to have any self-control?

vernon —; touch yourself

it’s not like vernon can last long in general. he thinks you’re the hottest thing alive and he’s so enamoured with you that it’s too much for him sometimes, but you best believe he’ll put his all into holding out just for you.

there are times, however, where he’s just a man. and what’s a man to do when he has a goddess riding his dick? when your tits look so pretty, bouncing in his face, when you have that fucked out look in your eyes, when you feel like heaven and hell all at once?

and what the fuck is a man to do when your hand drifts down between your legs, to your aching clit, and your fingers start to rub it in circles, or when your other hand grasps one of your tits and tugs at one of your own nipples? and your sweet pussy clenches around him so tight when you do, clamps down on him in an hot, wet embrace, so what else can he do but cum?

dino —; say ‘i love you’

another sweet, sentimental boy. lee chan is head over heels for you, enamoured, obsessed, smitten, infatuated with you… the list of things he is around you is endless.

it shows in the way he fucks you—always takes his time with you, never rushes taking you apart. every touch of his is intentional, meant to set you both ablaze. when he eats you out to prep you for his cock, he has to try not to cum in his pants from how pretty you are.

where he really doesn’t stand a chance however is when he’s bottomed out inside you, as close as he can possibly be with you—so close you’re practically one. the sweetest sounds fall from your lips, spurring on his expert thrusts.

his forehead is plastered to yours, the pair of you revelling in one another’s sweat and gasps for air. “i love you,” you confess gently, and chan falls over the edge of pleasure not a moment later.

[ink-n-shadow]

The 141 with a girl that cums quick :( I wanna listen to them make fun of em for it and teaseeeeee

(as a girl who cums quick, i feel like this request was made for me)

THAT QUICK?

𝜗𝜚 the one where the CoD men find it cute how quickly you cum

𝜗𝜚 characters: simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), reader has afab genetalia and uses she/her, oral sex (reader!receiving), thigh riding, anal, some degredation, some praise, pet names

simon riley is fisting the bedsheets between white knuckles as his hips stutter in their rhythm, the feeling of your warm velvet walls constricting around him at just the second sink of his thick cock into. “already? do i not fuck you ‘nough, baby? cummin’ two thrusts in ‘nd i haven’t even touched your little clit” as if he doesn’t have you folded perfectly in half beneath him, your feet almost at your ears and hands scrabbling at his forearms at the way the tingling begins forming again in the pit of your stomach at simon’s words. a mocking pout graces his lips as his big brown eyes (heavy lidded and drooping with how pussydrunk he is) flutter up to meet yours, his cock twitching when he sees the way your cloudy gaze is on him. “y’wanna come again? can feel this pretty cunt squeezin’ ‘round me—s’okay, sweet’eart. go ‘head, then. lemme feel it,” he’s breathing down your neck as his thumb finally eases firm circles around your hot wet clit, easily milking your second of many highs

johnny mactavish is tightening the grip that his fingers have around your hips and outer thighs the second he feels the tension in your body snap, nearly melding his mouth to your cunt the second your orgasm hit and the taste of you flooded his tastebuds. god, he’d barely even started, only having wormed his long tongue inside of your dripping slit before you had pawed at his head and brokenly begged him to let you come. “barely started eatin’, lass—aye, stop fuckin’ squirmin’. yer interruptin’ my meal,” he mutters wetly against your cunt as he lets a wad of spit drip from his lips, letting the saliva pool on the hood of your clit before laving his tongue over it in lazy circles. it’s enough to have your back bowing off the bed again, thighs squeezing tighter around his head as you babble incoherently enough to make johnny chuckle with his tongue swirling through your insides. “s’that right? y’gonna come for me again? already? just ‘cus i touched you right—” the wet gasp you let out at the way his tongue presses sinfully against your clit has his cock growing impossibly harder in his boxers “—here? go on, then. use my tongue, pup.”

john price is bringing a hand down against the already red and raised skin of your right asscheek once he notices the way your rhythm grows sloppy, his thigh growing wetter and thus making you slip and slide a bit easier. “atta girl,” he praises warmly as his hand moves to grip at the heated flesh, trying to soothe the burn he’d just inflicted and (knowingly) angling your hips enough that your clit bumps against his corded muscles with ease. he starts hushing your hiccuped whines by burying your face into the crook of his neck, letting him control your pace and movements with two fistfuls of your ass. “one orgasm ‘nd yer already dumb? haven’t even spread you out on my cock yet, sweetheart,” john murmurs in your ear, his words paired with the way he makes you filthily grind your slippery clit against his thigh enough to have you clawing at his forearms once again. “so easy to make you finish, poppet. just a couple swipes against that little clit of yours, and yer just gushin’, innit right?”

kyle garrick is practically brain dead when he’s only two (and a half) thrusts inside of your ass, and you’re twitching around him, cumming basically untouched. like, literally has to stop himself with a hand on your hip and the other hand holding himself up on the headboard, chuckling softly to hide the way his voice wavers. “c-christ, pretty girl—got you trained that well, don’t i? such a good girl f’me, baby. don’t be shy now—gimme another one, yeah?” before he’s bullying himself back inside of your hole, using the hand he had on your hip to gather your wrists and pin them to the small of your back. it doesn’t take long before he’s moving his hand from the headboard and snaking it between your quivering thighs, stuffing two of his fingers into your neglected cunt and smirking at the way he can feel you flutter around him. “greedy girl—but you’re so easy to please, huh? i can feel you twitchin’ around my fingers, y’gonna come again? go ‘head, princess.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[eomayas]

distracted • hjs

pairing: husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! fluff, parent au, non-idol au

synopsis: reader is literally just feral for joshua

warnings: pwp, p in v, oral (m receiving), riding, praise, dirty talk, soft!dom!josh, breeding, josh calls reader a ‘slut’ (lovingly) once, reader & josh are parents, reader losing her mind over josh mainly. JOSHUA ARMS. unedited ;)))

a/n: i’ve experienced extreme joshua brainrot lately then did an extreme deep dive of jarms (joshua arms) until 2 in the morning. i am unwell and need him like a fish needs water

joshua pushes the shopping cart that holds groceries, and your daughter in the front of the basket, down the aisle. you trail a step or two behind them, mind a bit foggy and… distracted. you don’t know what it is, he’s just wearing a plain, white tshirt and blue jeans—he’s worn it before—and you’re running errands together like you always do. but today is different, and you can’t seem to comprehend a single thing going on around you, or really look at your husband without feeling mild insanity.

first, you’d wandered into the store in a daze, forgetting that joshua was grabbing the shopping cart with your daughter, after having sat in the front seat watching him drive for twenty minutes. his hand sat steady at ten and two, ever the safe driver when your daughter was present, though at stop lights he would sometimes grab your hand or settle his palm on your leg. you felt lost since the morning, woke up with your mind cloudy and your brain foggy just at the mere sight of him.

then, you couldn’t remember a single thing on your grocery list. in your clouded state, you must’ve forgotten the list in the kitchen; it wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that you literally couldn’t think about a single thing that you needed to buy, and you are usually the one leading the pack around the store. so the three of you have been wandering around the grocery store for longer than you want to be, circling back to the same aisles you’ve already been on because you can’t remember what it is you need to buy.

now you’re back in the dairy aisle, unsure of why you’re back because youve already grabbed milk and cream cheese, so you’re just standing in front of the cold, double doors without a single thought in your head. “yogurt, maybe?” joshua tries, pausing his conversation with your child to help you out. you blink once, twice before mumbling out a ‘right’ and pulling the doors open and grabbing a container.

“mommy, that’s not the right one!” your daughter whines when you drop it in the basket. she’s frowning at you, eyebrows crinkled the same way joshua’s do. god. you make the mistake of looking up at him, and your entire body flushes you meet his gaze. his eyes are soft but questioning, asking if you if you’re alright without actually saying it. no, i’m not, you think to yourself, discreetly sweeping your hand up your neck to check your pulse. it’s fast, and you’re definitely still alive.

joshua watches you with mild concern; he’s noticed your strange, avoidant behavior since this morning when he got back from the gym. you had looked almost surprised when he walked into your bedroom, like you weren’t expecting him back. your eyes widened, and your lips parted like you were going to say something but nothing came out. he beat you to words, anyway, giving you a soft ‘good morning’ that made you blush—he’d ignored it because you seemed… off—and kissed you on the lips. he thought he really smelled with the way you rushed your lips off of his and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet. joshua grabbed you so you wouldn’t fall, and he felt you tense in his hold, a frown etching on his features. he brushed it off and asked if you wanted to shower with him, expecting a ‘yes’ from the look that flashed through your eyes, but you instead mumbled something about having to make breakfast before hurrying out of the bedroom all together. you basically avoided him all day since then, never really looking at him or talking to him directly—none of which you do on a constant basis.

the yogurt was, in fact, incorrect down to the brand and flavor. “i’m sorry, baby,” you say to your daughter, running a hand over her hair before grabbing the yogurt to swap it out for the correct one, this time taking a few seconds to scan everything in the fridge. you appreciate the cold air from the refrigerator, as it cools you down from the rush of heat you feel along your face and neck. you take a breath and tell yourself to get a fucking grip before dropping the correct item into the cart.

“daddy, can i get ice cream?” your daughter asks joshua as you start ambling through the grocery store. you cut your eyes at your daughter for not asking you, but you know it’s because joshua never says no to her.

“of course, princess,” and you watch with pure adoration as he places a kiss on her forehead and she just giggles, scrunching her shoulders up to her ears. joshua is a good husband, but he’s an even better father, and you love watching him interact with your daughter. they have a special connection that you love to witness, a secret language just between the two of them. it’s moment like this where you want another kid—or maybe it’s part of the hazy mess you’re in because of his sheer existence.

you follow behind joshua towards the ice cream aisle. the shirt he wears is tight on him, straining against his biceps and shoulders. you can make out his back muscles depending on how the light hits the fabric, and you feel even crazier than before. his muscles have been the source of your you distracted state today. joshua has always been muscular, and he’s always worked out, but something about him recently has flipped a switch in your brain that has made you feel absolutely feral every time you catch a mere glimpse of his arms—which is quite literally every day. this morning it was too overwhelming, him coming home and shedding his jacket to reveal himself in a simple black tank top that looked a size too small, and gray sweats that made you feel like you needed to go to confessional.

another rush of cold air pulls you out of your lustful daze and you stand at the back of the shopping cart as joshua shuffles through the cartons of ice cream, asking your daughter her input. you try to keep your eyes focused on your daughter, anything else, but cant help when they drift over to your husband, his arms flexing each time he grabs a pint and displays it to your daughter. joshua casts a glance at you, a smile that says can you believe this? when you daughter shakes her head for the fourth time, despite not asking to look for herself. you blush under his gaze, heat spreading down your neck and chest before settling in your stomach.

"i thought you liked the oreo one?" you say to your daughter, voice slightly hoarse. you smooth a hand over her hair to give yourself something to do, hands a little clammy from all of your nerves working overtime.

"i do..." she trails off, turning to look at you with a tiny pout on her lips.

"tell daddy before he freezes," you say, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. just the mere reference to joshua feels heavy in your mouth, makes your stomach flutter for reasons you can't really explain.

joshua places the pint of oreo ice cream into the cart, circling around to the front and playfully ticking your daughter under her chin. she giggles loudly and you smile as you watch her become a spitting image of her father. arms cage you between the carts handlebar and a firm chest, and suddenly your eyes are no longer on your kid but on the strong, veiny forearms that belong to your husband. “excuse me,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice like he knows that you’re losing your mind at the simple sight of him.

wordlessly, you gently grab his right arm to remove yourself from his entrapment. “hey,” joshua says softly, reaching out for your wrist as you move swiftly to get away from him. turning, goosebumps arise on your skin, and you tell yourself that it’s because his hands are ice cold. “you okay, honey?” your stomach flips and you press your lips into a small smile, nodding.

joshua stares at you for a beat before leaning down a few inches, silently begging for a kiss. you nearly combust at the thought, not trustworthy of yourself to behave normally in public. but his eyes are fond, and you love him so much and want him so bad that you raise up on your toes and brace yourself on his shoulders before delivering a soft, quick peck to his lips. you’re proud of yourself for holding back, but joshua isn’t satisfied because he stays leaned over in the spot you kissed him in for a few seconds after the fact that you’ve pulled away. if you were at home, he’d yank you back to him but because you’re in public he files that grievance away and straightens up.

“i want a kiss,” your daughter pouts, cutely crossing her arms over her chest. since she doesn’t specify from whom, both of you lean in and press kisses to her cheeks. her giggle ripples through you, filling your stomach with butterflies and your chest with a type of love reserved only for her. you’re momentarily pulled away from your joshua shaped daze, until his hand is settling on your lower back. it chilling, his touch, and it’s not because his hands are ice cold from standing in the grocery store freezer for two minutes.

a shiver runs up your spine and you slip out of his grasp, not paying attention to where or what you’re walking into until joshua is pulling you back into him, his hand splayed across your stomach and your back colliding with his chest. “babe, watch out,” a woman pushing a cart stops short, a look of remorse on her face.

“oh my god, did i hit you?” she asks, and you figure you must look injured or something, because she looks genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. the flush on your face is not due to the fact that you were almost ran over, but because joshua hasn’t moved his hand from your stomach and hasn’t put any distance between your back and his front. he stays pressed against you, holding you firmly in front of him, his hold tightening ever so slightly.

“n-no, i’m alright,” you manage, lips tingling. “i swear.” you add when her eyebrows don’t drop from her hairline. at that, she seems to believe you enough snd offers you a smile and a curt nod before hurrying down the aisle.

“are you alright, honey? you’re trembling,” joshua says, his deep voice like melted wax running down your back. you make the mistake of looking up and over your shoulder at him, his palm pressing into your lower belly.

he peers down at you with soft eyes, ready to question you again until your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you tuck your bottom lip under your top one and nod. he knows the look in your eyes all too well—hunger, but not for food—and heat pools in his chest. joshua is much better at hiding his desire for you, especially in public and in front of your child, and he’s able to keep his expression the same, pretending he never saw that look in your eye. “i’m fine,” you’re shuffling away from him again, this time checking to make sure you’re not seconds away from being ran over with a shopping cart.

somehow, you three mange to finish your shopping trip without anymore mishaps. it requires circling back to the same aisles more than once because neither you nor josh can remember what you wanted to buy, but at least you can say you’re done. joshua loads the groceries into the trunk while you buckle your daughter into the backseat. she yawns, stretching her little arms up and out. “sleepy?” you ask her, a small smile on your face.

“no,” she says, vehemently shaking her head. you chuckle hum a sound of disbelief before dropping a kiss on her forehead and going to the front seat. the trunk closes and you suck in a breath as you watch him in the rearview mirror. he brushes his hand through his hair, and even through the mirror and the tint of the trunk window, you can make out his bicep muscle flexing with the motion.

it’s nearly pathetic how horny you feel just looking at him—like an overgrown teenager who just got into their first relationship. except you’re an adult, married to this man, and this behavior is no longer considered ‘cute’.

joshua gets into the front seat and smiles at you, leaning over the console to give you a kiss. his hand rests on the side of your neck, and you wonder if he’s trying to check your pulse, to mess with you. you keep your hands to yourself, because if you touch him, you might never stop.

pulling back from your mouth, he looks into your eyes before flicking them back down to your lips. joshua starts to lean in but seems to remember you’re not alone, and sits back in his seat, his hand lingering on your neck for a moment before he starts the car and asks your daughter if she’s ready to go.

the car ride is quiet, save for your daughters yawns and insistence that she is not tired. she makes most of the noise, talking about random things that you and joshua entertain with ease. he watches her in the review mirror with real, unconditional love in his eyes. it does nothing to help your situation, and just makes you want to give him another baby.

when you arrive back at your house, you quickly get out of the car, grateful to get out of the stuffy, suffocating feeling of being in the front seat. you walk around the back and help your daughter out, ready to carry her inside until she exclaims, “i want to help!”

you ser her down on the ground and she runs over to joshua. you watch him give her two of the lighter bags of groceries, and raises her arms to show you, a big smile on her face. you smile back and press in the garage code and tell her to go inside of the house, seemingly leaving you and joshua alone. you sidle up next to him, and joshua lightly bumps his hip into yours. “hmm?” you question without looking up from the numerous bags in the back of the car.

“why are you avoiding me?” he asks, and the directness makes your hands clam up.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you say, taking a few grocery bags and backing up from him.

“you quite literally are.”

you stare up at him, his eyebrows knitted together in slight irritation. “i still love you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you clarify. his features soften and his shoulders relax a bit. those shoulders. your eyes drifts down his figure, lingering on his flexed forearms, veins bulging out from the tension of carrying the grocery bags.

joshua watches you obviously ogle and check him out, his entire figure relaxing at his realization. “oh, i get it now,” he teases, a slow smirk sliding across his lips.

“get what?” you play dumb, taking a tentative step backwards before turning around and trying to keep your walk casual as you walk through the garage. it’s so obvious you’re trying to keep space between the two of you, putting anything in the way to keep you off of him.

“that you wan-“ joshua cuts himself off because you push open the door that leads you into the house. he clears his throat and closes the garage door before following behind you into the kitchen. your daughter is standing on her tippy toes trying to reach a cupboard that’s way to high for her, concentration etched on her face. “need help, bub?” he asks, setting his bags down on the counter.

“i can’t reach,” she whines, yawning immediately after. joshua lifts her up into his arms and opens the cupboard for her abd allows her to put the item away. “i’m tired, daddy.” she rests her head on his shoulder, tiny arms encircling around his neck.

you watch them and you feel your heart grow three times in size, like the grinch. joshua coos at her and pats her head before agreeing to put her down for a nap. you busy yourself with unloading the groceries, stomach flipping at the thought of having at least an hour alone with your husband. you can’t believe how depraved you feel.

joshua comes back downstairs a few minutes later, right when you’re putting the last thing into the fridge. “you finished?” he asks. you nod, heart hammering in your chest as he walks over to you. his hands drop onto your hips, pulling you flush against him. you keep your eyes straight ahead, leveled wirh his chest, and joshua dips his head down to meet your eyes. “see: you’re avoiding me.”

hear creeps up your neck and you shake your head. “i’m not.”

“don’t try to gaslight me,” he teases, making you roll your eyes and finally look up at him. “there she is.” he murmurs, leaning down a few centimeters to connect your lips. your hands flatten against his chest, and he walks your backwards into one of the kitchen counters. joshua leans over you, trying to press you flat against the surface despite the lack of space.

“shua,” you breathe once you pull away when he unbuttons your jeans.

“what, you’ve got somewhere better to be?” he asks, arching one of his eyebrows.

“i… i have to do laundry…” you say halfheartedly. joshua laughs at this, dropping his forehead against yours. “i’m serious!” you say, but you’re smiling too. “i want to go back to avoiding you.”

joshua pulls back to look down at you, making a face that says for what? “i thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“yeah, i’m afraid nothing will keep me off of you if we start,” you say honestly. joshua blushes deeply, a boyish grin on his face. “i want you so bad—i think i might be ovulating? i don’t know. i just want you so. bad.” you punctuate the last part with the press of your knuckles into his chest.

“you’re ovulating?” it’s like bells went off in his head.

“maybe, i don’t know. i don’t keep track of that shit. i just need an explanation for how i feel,” you say, hands sliding along his chest absentmindedly.

joshua raises both of his eyebrows at you, fake shock on his face. “maybe because you have a super hot and sexy husband who is also a really good father? just a hunch.”

“no, i don’t think that’s it,” he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him down to you. joshua grips onto the counter to steady himself, his hold tight enough to turn his knuckles white. he presses his pelvis into yours, his his erection pressing against your leg.

joshua wraps an arm around you and splays his hand across the small of your back. he presses you down onto the counter and you grip his shoulders tightly, craning your mouth away from his to breathe out, “not here.” he pulls you up from the counter and looks down at you, his chest moving up and down quickly. you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks about a place to fuck you that won’t bring attention to the two of you. “laund-ah!” he swoops you up into his arms easily, already carrying you in the direction of your laundry room before you can even get the entire word out.

you wrap your legs around his waist as you buzz with need and anticipation. you let yourself revel at being carried by him after lusting over his arms all day. he carries you like you’re weightless, with his his hands resting under your ass for support. “god,” you whisper to yourself, pressing a kiss into his neck.

“i love you,” he rasps as he enters the laundry room. he shuts and locks the door behind him before dropping you onto the washing machine. his hands are flying to undo the buttons of your blouse and you pull him closer using your ankles that are still wrapped around him.

“love you more,” you murmur, helping him with removing your top. “your turn.” your urge, pulling the hem of his shirt.

“sure you can handle it?” he teases. you flush and lightly push at his abdomen. “don’t wanna make you pass out or anything.” he smirks at you, loving to watch you squirm.

“i can handle it,” you say, feeling so embarrassed to even be in this position. luckily, joshua is sweet to you above all and draws you in for a kiss. you skate your hands up underneath his shirt, nails lightly scratching against his torso. “take it off.” you mumble against his lips, hands pushing up the material of his shirt. you feel like you could rip him out of the fabric.

joshua pulls back and makes an entire show of getting undressed. he runs a hand through his hair and purposefully flexes his bicep as he does so. if this was any other time, you’d roll your eyes and call him annoying. but today, all you can do is watch and try not to drool.

he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into an empty laundry basket nearby. you waste no time leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. you move to kiss his jaw and then his neck, your hands sliding down his body. you kiss across his chest, going lower until the position becomes uncomfortable. lightly shoving him, you hop off of the washing machine and drop to your knees in front of him.

joshua watches you with dark eyes, holding onto the edge of the machine. you fumble with his belt, hands shaking with anticipation of finally having him, and he makes no effort to help you out. your hands work too fast, and you mess up when you try to pull the buckle open for the second time. “i’ve got all day,” he say smugly. you ignore him, and finally pull his belt free. you work his pants down to his ankles, leaving. him in just his briefs. you let out a breath and look up at him with pure lust. “as pretty as you look right now, you’d look much better with my cock in your mouth.”

quickly, you pull his underwear down and let them pool together with his pants, hands flying to grab ahold of his member. you pump him a few times, flicking your eyes to look up at him. joshua gives you a slight nod, signaling you to start sucking, and you eagerly oblige. sticking your tongue out, you lick up the precum that dribbles out of the tip before you wrap your lips around the head and push him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you go. a groan escapes joshua’s mouth and he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you drag him into your mouth inch by inch, your eyes never once leaving his. his chest heaves up and down, moving faster and faster the closer you get to taking him all the way. tears prick in your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you keep going until your nose nearly presses into his hips. “shit,” he whispers, leaning more of his weight into the washing machine.

you bob your head up and down, pulling back and stroking what doesn’t fit. you swirl your tongue around the tip, cheeks hollowing to create more suction when you suck on the tip. joshua moans lowly above you and tells you how good you’re doing. his eyes flutter shut, squeezed shut in pleasure and his chin drops down to his mouth. you want his eyes on you, want him to watch you as you make him feel good, so you purposefully scrape your teach against his dick to get his attention.

his eyes fly open as he jerks back from you, glaring at you when you smile around him. “brat,” he spits and tightens his grip on your hair. you sigh through your nose and press your thighs together, cunt throbbing with need. you keep bobbing your head, speeding up slightly and taking more of him into your mouth. when joshua presses your head down, you relax your throat and let him take control, hands moving to hold onto his thighs. “good girl.” he grunts, holding your head down on his dick for a few seconds until you gag, and then he pulls you off of him.

he does this a few more times, his cock twitching against your tongue. tears gather in your eyes but you power through, determined to make him cum. he pulls you down onto him, cursing each time he hits the back of your throat. “fuck, you take me so well. i’m c-close,” tears slip down your cheeks and mix in with the spit and cum. your face is a mess, but neither of you care.

joshua fucks his cock into your mouth, holding your head steady in his hands. you dig your nails his thighs to combat the ache in your jaw. he thrusts into your mouth until he can’t take the feeling of your warm mouth around him anymore, his cum shooting into the back of your throat. you keep your mouth open to catch all of his seed, some of it gathering around the corner of your lips. “s-swallow,” he demands when he pulls his cock away from your mouth.

you obediently swallow, and he whines in the back of his throat. “goddamn, i love you,” he holds his hands out to you and helps you up onto his feet. he wipes the corners of you lips with his thumb and shoves it into your mouth, lips parting when you suck on his thumb like you just did his cock. “youre such a slut.” he murmurs, a loving gaze in his eyes.

a trail of saliva connects your lips to his thumb when you pull it out of your mouth. “promise?” you ask.

joshua smiles and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. his hands make use of unbuttoning your jeans and shoving his hands down your pants. your panties are damp, and he’s a bit shocked and honored that you’re this wet for him. “i need you,” you whine, peppering kisses down his neck. you don’t even want his fingers, just want him inside of you.

“i know,” he rasps, slipping a finger between your folds. you shudder when he touches you, his finger playing with your arousal and brushing over your clit, just to make you jump. you clench around nothing, and it’s nearly painful how turned on you are.

“joshua!” you whine, nipping at his neck. his hand immediately grabs onto your hair and yanks, a hiss emitting from your lips followed by a smirk.

“needy brat,” he grumbles, walking the two of you over to the work bench in the room. he drops onto it and spreads his legs invitingly. you quickly step out of your jeans and underwear, his eyes roaming over your body. “you’re a beautiful, y/n.”joshua says sincerely; at the end of the day, he is simply a lover boy.

you smile at him and quickly drop yourself onto his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you reach between the two of you and position yourself over his cock. his hands grip onto your hips tightly and guide you down onto him, bottom lip drawing in between his teeth.

“ah-fuck!” you cry when you sink onto the tip, the initial stretch rippling through you.

“you’ve got it, baby,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing sift circles into your hips. you bite down on your bottom lip, hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you sink lower and lower onto him. “goddamn, girl.” he grunts, hips bucking when you clench around him.

when you manage to take all of him, you sit still and catch your breath, head resting on his shoulder. joshua unhooks your bra and you lean back to slide it off your arms. “you okay?” he asks, hands groping your chest.

“uh huh,” you rasp, taking it as a sign to start fuckign him, licking your lips and raising your hips before dropping onto his lap. “fuck, shua.” whimpers leave you lips as you fuck yourself onto him, using his shoulders as leverage to move yourself up and down. joshua relaxes into the wall, his grip on your hips loosening as you gain momentum and find a rhythm.

“you’re so tight,” he groans, one of his thumbs finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. “been thinking about fucking you all day.” joshua sighs and rubs your clit quicker, eyes peering up to watch your facial expressions. “you need me as bad as i needed you?” he mumbles, voice low and husky.

“more,” you pant, still bouncing up and down on him. your cunt clamps around him like it’s trying to keep him there. “shuaaa!” you whine, thighs burning. you sit on his lap, rolling your hips into his.

he chuckles breathlessly, rolling his other thumb over one of your nipples. “yeah? tell me,” he grins at you devilishly, this side of him only coming out in your intimate moments.

“so bad,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. “w-wanna give you a-another baby.” you squeeze around him involuntarily, a knot forming in your stomach. joshua twitches inside of you at the mention of having another child.

“yeah? want me to fill you up?” you whimper and nod, legs starting to shake. “want me to fuck you full of my cum until you’re pregnant again?” he lets go of you breast to place both hands underneath your ass. he lifts you up and drops you down, a show of his strength as he fucks you up an down onto him.

joshua grumbles filthy things into your ear; tells you that he’s gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, that he’s gonna stuff you full, that’s he’s going to give you another baby tonight. “f-fuck! i-im gonna cum,” you cry, throwing your head back in pleasure. he bucks his hips up into you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly.

spots blur your vision and your cunt spasms around him as you reach your climax. it hits you like a thousand bricks, and you’re shaking in his arm and crying out his name. you expect him to stop, but he keeps thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm further. you can hardly think through the waves of pleasure, which is why you hardly register that he’s lifted you up until you’re placed on a cold surface.

joshua drags you to the edge of the washing machine and slams his cock into you, nearly knocking the wind out of you. “o-oh my god,” you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight. “you feel so good!”

he drives his hips into you brutally, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “f-fuck, i’m not gonna last,” he groans, dropping his head into your neck. he kisses your skin and lightly bites, though not hard enough to leave marks. you cling to him, arms secured around his shoulders like you may fall if you dont hold on.

his thrusts get sloppier by the second, indicative of his nearing climax. “i love you,” you breathe, nails clawing at his back. he grunts, whining out curses as he cums inside of you, his dick twitching between your walls. he stills, fingers applying bruising pressure to your hips.

after a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. he presses his lips to your gently, sighing against you as he goes soft. “shit,” he pants, followed by a light chuckle.

you can’t help but giggle back, running a hand through his hair. he doesn’t want to pull out, not yet at least, wanting to make sure his cum stays inside of you as long as possible. he lets go of your thighs and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. you kiss the column of his throat, right on his adam’s apple and rubs soft circles into your back.

“we should clean up,” he murmurs, starting to draw back from you. you make a sound of disagreement and squeeze around him on purpose. “b-brat.” he stammers, curling away from you.

he pulls out of you with a lewd squelch, both of you turning light shades of pink at the noise. he helps you off of the washer and you lean against it. he finds a random towel and comes back to wipe between your legs before cleaning himself off and tossing it in the same basket he threw his shirt in. “i guess i could start a load,” you say, looking at all of the discarded clothes, making joshua laugh.

he helps you gather them up and drop them into the washer. you add in the detergent and slam the top closed. except, when you go to start the washer, joshua places a hand on your back and presses you flat against the washer and slots his knee between your legs to spread them open. you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself because he’s pushing into you again, a strong arm wrapping around your middle to hold you steady as he fucks into you from behind, determined to get you pregnant tonight.

[nanaslutt]

uraume topping reader for the first time

minors and ageless blogs dni

their eyes catch on yours when they push the tip of the strap into you and are met with resistance. you gasped, but quickly pulled your lip between your teeth to hide it. “does it hurt?” they ask. you shake your head.

with a nod, their eyes find the place your connected, watching enraptured as your cunt swallows the strap inch after inch. “rume, fuck… fuck how do you take this?” you whine, clenching around the intrusion. the stretch is a lot, but it feels good to. the pain and pleasure are conflicting feelings in your brain but they’re blending into one, blurring your sense between the two.

“you’re taking it well.” the praise goes straight to your head. “i’m… almost in. your really tight.” you know they’re taking abt the resistance they feel pushing in, but the way they’re talking like they can actually feel you around the silicone cock is dizzying.

you place your hand on your stomach, feeling full. “it’s in.” they say, more breathless than before. “god… it’s… it’s in.” they sound mesmerized, eyes glued to where you’re connected.

“how does it feel?” you ask, locking your ankles behind their back. they bite their lip, pupils blown. “good. tight. it’s like i can feel you.”

you smile at that, knowing this is wildly affirming for them. you decide to milk it a bit. “i can feel you throbbing, rume. you’re so deep, i can feel you in here.” they inhale sharply through their teeth.

got them.

“can i move?” you hardly get a nod out before they’re pulling out and slowly pushing back in, getting used to the feel of the strap, finding the right angle. each time they pull out, their mouth opens in a silent moan before they release a breath. “i’ve never felt anything like this.”

“g-good?” you ask, trying to keep your composure.

they nod, “i like this. i like that it feels like im really inside you. it almost feels like i am.” you clench around them, wrapping you arms under theirs to bring your face closer. their small tits press against your chest, lips hovered over lips.

“because you are,” you whisper, so quiet only they could hear. “you’re inside me, and you’re hitting- fuck-“ thrust “right there?” you nod mouth agape.

their lips crash against yours in a messy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. their thrusts pick up speak considerably, and you’re unable to hold back your whines that they swallow up greedily. uraume pulls away from the kiss to moan while rubbing their hips in a circle, fully pressing the strap inside you.

“god, that feels so good.” you whine, tipping your head back. uraume burried their head into your throat and moans, their grinding getting weaker and choppier. “it feels good. r-right there it feels good.” they breath into your neck. watching them get so caught up in their fantasy is pushing you quickly twords the edge.

“uraume im gonna cum, cum inside me, please.” their lithe fingers sloppily find your clit in a rush, rubbing to the best of their ability. “say- say that again.”

gripping their hair, you drag their mouth against your own, locking eyes with them while keeping your ankles crossed behind their back. “give it to me uraume, fill me up, cum inside me.” their face screws into pleasured agony as they reach their high from nothing but strapping you down.

their body shakes and convulses on top of you, the jerky thrusts making you finish as well. the high is unbelievable, clearing your brain entirely, and their weight on top of you feels better than expected. they keep the strap inside you even after you’ve cum, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

when you pull their head up by their cheeks, their pale face is flushed, eyes all unfocused and cloudy. “how did that feel?” you ask, smiling. they just nod, their bottom lip twitching.

you smile and roll them over, straddling them with their cock still inside you. “you did so good, uraume.” they avert their eyes when you start pressing kisses all over their face while cupping their small tits. “so.” kiss “fucking.” kiss “good.”

“this is horribly embarrassing. i cannot beleive i said all that.” they mumble, trying to turn their face away from you, but you won’t stand for that. you punch their cheeks in a strong grip, forcefully pursing their lips together to make them pout.

“there is absolutely nothing wrong with filling your fantasies. everything you said was hot as hell, uraume.” their blush deepened but they didn’t disagree. “i’ll bounce on your cock while saying all sorts of dirty stuff to prove it.” you tease, shaking your hips on top of them, the strap burried inside you rubbing against your walls.

“another day… i would like to just… calm down right now.” you smile, lowering your mouth to their ear. “if you wanted cuddles you shoulda just said that, dibs on being the small spoon.” they grumble, and you can’t help but laugh.

[bunnibombz]

Alpha! Simon who's scent is strong, like dark cherries and cinnamon, and makes your blood feel thick like syrup. Your own purring a distant hazy sound as you were desperately trying to spread that scent everywhere you could. You knew you would get into the shower later and it would all be gone but for now you would relish every bit of it.

Alpha! Simon who tries to be easy. Wants so badly for his fingers not to grip bruises into your hips as he pulls you back on his thick cock, your squeals and moans sending him closer to the edge as he splits you open, but he just can't help it. Can't help how your feet kicking out and the soft whine of his name leaving your lips sends him into a primal frenzy.

Alpha! Simon who flips you over onto your back with quick movement of his hands, his pretty brown eyes scanning your naked form as if committing it to memory, your plush lips parting on gasping breathes as your third orgasm left you reeling.

"So pretty" he murmured, his thumb moving to graze your bottom lip, a spine tingling groan blooming from his throat when you set your teeth against his flesh lightly. The want in his eyes could burn you alive, his free hand gripping the pillow behind your head. "The things I would do if you were mine".

"What kind of things?" You prompted, barely fighting back the haze of your heat, your cunt clenching around his cock still throbbing and buried deep inside of you.

"Put a pretty mark on your neck, to show everyone just how much I love you" he said, his voice low and rolling through your sensitive body like a wave, his hand at your lips moving down to grasp your throat, turning your head to press a hot and heavy kiss to the junction of your shoulder where the bond mark would go, "and put a pretty pup in your belly to show everyone just how much you're mine, mine only".

The thrust of his hips stole the air from your lungs, his cock twitching against your cervix as you gasped. Your hands coming up to grasp his biceps as he bent your knees up and over his shoulders, pinning you in a rough mating press.

"Want- want you- ahhh" you stammered, barely able to gather words as pleasure shot up your spine over and over.

"You want what, bunny?" He asked, his voice a rough growl as his arms tensed, hips moving a little harsher, "use your words".

"Y-your knot" you begged with a desperate sob, trying in vain to pull him down closer to bury your face into his neck, "I-I need". Words were useless at this point, the hormones from your heat making your brain feel cloudy and the burning pleasure between your legs not helping to clear the fog. With your scents burning together, it was almost intoxicating.

"Gonna cum for you, lovie" Simon groaned, his knot beginning to swell at the base of his cock, "be my good girl and take it all for me".

Spots were popping behind you eyes screwed shut, your toes curling as your cunt tightened around him, slick squirting put against your thighs and his abdomen as he pressed in, knot locking in place as he filled you with a growling moan, his teeth clenched tightly as if fighting not to sink his teeth in and take for his own. Both of you were out of breath and shaking when you collapsed back on the bed, his warm arms wrapping around your body and tugging you on top of him to ease the stretch of his knot.

"Easy now, just rest, we'll be here for a bit" Simon murmured, his calloused hand rubbing against your back, letting you adjust for comfort until you settled, your breathing slowing as you lay against him.

Alpha! Simon who keeps you securely in his arms as he drifts off with you, your hormones calming and your soft purring sending him into a deep sleep.

Price who can't help but smirk in amusement as Simon growled like a demon in his sleep when he opened the door to check on you. If there had been any doubt that Simon would take care of you, it was gone now.

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[jarofstyles]

Benefits II

Hi my ducklings, here is part two to Benefits.

Or, Y/N is shy about the agreement they’d made and Harry isn’t afraid to call her out on it.

first part to Benefits Here

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive posts!

WC- 3.4k

Warnings- asshole h, degradation, mean!Dom, slight humiliation, exhibitionism, name calling

---

As she stood at the bar sipping her drink and keeping up with the chatter of their friends, she could feel his eyes on her. It was a sensation she was becoming quite familiar with. She knew he was watching her from across the room, his dark gaze following her every move, and it made her skin heat under the surface. It was exactly why she made sure to arch her back slightly, ensuring her ass looked its absolute best in the tight jeans she was wearing.

The memory of his strong, brutal hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements as he took her from behind sent a shiver down her spine. Taking another sip of her drink, she tried to act casual despite the fire of arousal pooling in her core. Every so often, she'd glance in his direction, catching his unfaltering gaze before looking away with a barely there smile. The thrill of knowing what they'd shared, knowing what it felt like to have his mouth and hands on her while he pressed her into the sheets, all the while keeping up appearances in front of their friends, was intoxicating.

Harry did look particularly delicious tonight, his broad shoulders and muscular frame emphasized by the fitted shirt he was wearing. She remembered the feeling of those strong, inked arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he whispered filthy things in her ear that had her blushing just thinking about. No one had ever treated her the way he had. The way his broad body had covered hers, pinning her down as he claimed her so thoroughly. She squirmed slightly, pressing her thighs together as a wave of want washed over her.

Said tight black t-shirt showcased his tattoos beautifully, the sleeve of ink snaking down his left arm. She remembered tracing those tattoos with her fingers as he lay beside her, recovering after they’d both found release. He’d been surprisingly polite post sex considering his usual demeanor, making sure to clean her up and keep her steady, giving her a snack and taking her back to hers in his car to make sure she got home safely. But she didn’t need to think about that. His well-built arms were on display, the muscles flexing subtly as he cradled his beer bottle. She remembered the feel of those arms and hands, every blow, knead, squeeze, stroke and paw, the thrill of being held down still buzzing in her stomach.

It was crowded out tonight though, and she lost her window in seeing him much too soon. The bar was growing warmer by the moment, the press of bodies and the stifling atmosphere becoming a bit too much for her in particular- especially with the added heat of her body that was unable to let go of the illicit memories swirling through her cloudy brain. Excusing herself from the group, she slipped out the back door onto the quiet, dimly lit alley behind the bar. She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the cool night air, taking a second to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse, fanning herself to try and cool down.

It was hard to concentrate on anything when was so lost in her thoughts- so much so that she didn't hear the door open. Startled, she looked up to see Harry walking towards her, the door swinging shut behind him. "Fuck! You scared me.” she hissed, clutching at her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears as she took in his towering form, the shadows cast by the dim light behind him only serving to emphasize his size.

“Didn’t mean to.” He murmured, arms crossed against his chest. The same arms she had been drooling over the whole night. “Y’alright?” Tilting his head, he looked her over before returning to her face. “Or did you jus’ want me to follow you out here.”

She bit her lower lip, considering his words. "No, I...I just needed some air. It's so hot in there," she explained, gesturing vaguely back towards the door. Her eyes flicked down to his biceps, something he had to be aware he was doing to her. It had been apparent that he was far more observant than she was, and he was using that to his advantage. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze once more. 

“Y’didn’t text me this week.” He stepped closer, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket along with the lighter. “Were you busy? Or did you just want me t’fuck off?”

She shook her head, eyes widening a bit as she reached out to take the cigarette he offered. He lit it for her, his fingers brushing against hers as he did so. "I wasn't busy," she admitted, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "I just...I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me or not." She looked up at him through the haze of smoke. It was weird to be confronted like this, to know someone else had so much power over her body in ways she doubted he could control. "I didn't want to assume."

Letting out a snort, he reached for the cigarette in her fingers, ignoring the lipstick on it and brought it to his lips. Letting her words linger, he took a pull before exhaling the bitter smoke and letting it drift away. “It isn’t an assumption. Told ya I wanted t’be friends with benefits. Left it in your court.” He didn’t want to seem like a complete ass just running to her for sex, but… “Should’ve called me. Texted, whatever. Could’ve had a little fun instead of runnin’ off to the alley cause you’ve been squeezing your thighs half the night while lookin’ at me when you think m’not.”

Y/N blushed furiously, taking the cigarette back from him. "I- I wasn't," she stammered, avoiding his piercing gaze. "It's just...hot in there." He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Like he could read right through her brain, analyze every filed thought she had put in there- even If it wasn’t very well organized. Harry knew better and there was no use in hiding it. She sighed, taking another drag. "Fine. Yes. I've been...thinking about last weekend. A lot." She met his eyes, her own filled with defeat.

“Good. So have I.” He leaned against the brick as he watched her smoke. “We should keep doing it, like I said. Y’don’t have to wear the jeans that hug your ass and give me looks across the room t’get what you want. You can jus’ tell me you want to be fucked.” Letting out a hum, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Would’ve been happy to do so. Been worked up. Think both of us coulda’ used the stress relief.”

Shivering at his words, her body reacted to the raw, blunt way he spoke. Something about it had her feeling it down to her toes. No one else spoke to her like that, let alone so vulgar in the way he did, but it didn’t meant she didn’t like it. Y/N took another drag of the cigarette, her fingers trembling slightly. "You're insane." She muttered, but there was no heat behind her words. "Fine, I'll let you know. Next time." She dropped her gaze to his lips, remembering how they felt against hers. Against her neck. Against her thighs… God, why did he make her feel this way? It was alarming. "And for the record, I like these jeans. Not everything I wear is for your attention." The jeans definitely were for his attention, though. She just wouldn’t admit it.

“Wasn’t complaining about the jeans, Sweetheart.” They did hug her perfectly. Then again, most things did if she bothered to ask him his opinion. “I wouldn’t complain if you let me inside of ‘em tonight. Though…” Dragging his finger down her hot cheek, he curled it around her chin to tilt it up. “I think you’d let me if I wanted to.”

She let out a soft hum as he tilted her chin up. "And what if you wanted to?" The thought of him pushing her up against the wall right here, hiking down her jeans and taking her roughly, was almost enough to make her beg. "Would you? Want to, I mean." Her voice was quiet, her breath catching in her throat as he looked down at her.

The reward for the sweet voice she gave him was one of his rare smiles, shaking his head at the girl that had made tonight far more difficult than she needed to. “Mm. I’ve wanted to since you walked in. But we don’t have enough time t’fuck considering one of the nosy brats will come looking.” He looked to the door and back to her. “So you can choose. Y’want me to slip my fingers into that pretty cunt? Or do you want to suck my cock.” It wasn’t a matter of being selfish, either. Harry had to have been oblivious to not have noticed how much she liked it last time. Called her his ‘pretty cockslut’, all the same.

Y/N glanced at the door, knowing they wouldn't have much time before someone came looking for her. It was a shame, too, because she had been wanting it all week. If her stupid insecurity hadn’t gotten in the way she was sure she’d have been able to get more than that prior to tonight bit… beggars couldn’t really be choosers. "Fingers," she breathed. "Please, just your fingers. I need it." She was desperate, her body aching for his touch. She reached out, grasping his wrist and pulling his hand to her waistband. "Now, please."

“Greedy.” He clicked his tongue. “Makin’ demands. Who says you could call the shots, hm?” His hand not captive by hers grubbed her chin firm, squeezing it enough to ensure he had her attention. “I’m the one in charge. S’all your fault, anyways. Could’ve gotten fucked half the week if you’d put your big girl panties on n’texted me.” The taunt had its desired effect as she rounded her eyes up at him. His fingers undid the button, palming over her tummy before slipping the fingers down and into her panties. “But think you caught me in a good mood tonight. Let’s see… How wet are you, mm?”

Her breath hitched as his calloused fingers pushed down into her underwear, slipping through her cunt with little hesitation. "It is your fault," she attempted to sass back, trying to regain some semblance of control. "For looking so...so menacing and hot." 

He chuckled darkly at her choice of words, his finger finding her soaking entrance and slipping inside. “Shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”

She moaned softly, her head falling back against the brick as it filled her. "Oh god, Harry." His single digit was the equivalent of two of hers. She’d tried well enough to recreate any feelings he’d given her that night throughout the week.

His fingers slid into her with ease, coating them in her arousal. She was absolutely drenched, clenching around him greedily, her body betraying just how desperately she had wanted his touch all night. Her juices smeared on his fingers and palm, the evidence of her desire unmistakable. "Fuck, you really are soaked, Y/N." Teeth grazing his lip, he crowded her against the wall, towering over her. “A little pathetic, don’t y’think?”

She whimpered needily as curled them just a tad, her hips rocking against his hand. "I can't help it," she gasped out, her voice thick with lust. "You just...you do this to me." Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer. "Please, Harry. I need more." The wet squelching sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of her dripping cunt could be heard if you listened close enough, stepping out into the alley.

“I know y’do. Needy little whore.” He cooed, making the word sound sweet. “Gonna have to be quick. Think you’re going to be able handle going back in there with all of ‘em, knowing you just got fingerfucked in the back alley? Like the slut you are?” Harry could tell just how much she liked it. He’d known just by her first interaction with him that she’d like this, but knowing they were compatible only made this even more fulfilling.

Her legs trembled lightly as he quickened his pace, his thumb swirling around her swollen clit. "Y-Yes," she stammered, her mind foggy with desire, his thick finger adding another inside to make her tear up. It was pathetic, as he said, but it wasn’t something she could help. It was just how he affected her. "Please, just...more. Harder. I'm so close." She could barely think straight, let alone care about the embarrassment of returning to the group. All she could focus on was the heat pooling in her belly and the intense pleasure he was wringing from her body. 

When it was over and her face was hot, her panties sticky, and her cum on his hand? She’d probably feel those nerves about facing everyone after being finger fucked half dumb in an alleyway. Especially after begging for it, loving the feel of his fingers digging into her jaw to keep her face tilted up towards him so he could watch her face- but that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it?

“Already?” He laughed in disbelief. “Fuck me. You really are filthy. Can’t believe it.” Curling his fingers up into her, he did what he could with the denim keeping his hand trapped. “Think m’gonna take you home after the night wraps up. Let you sit with your sticky cunt and think about how silly you were to not call me when you needed me so bad you’re making a mess out here. Think you still need t’suck me, don’t you?”

She let out a muffled cry as he curled his fingers upwards, her inner walls clamping down around him. "Yes, yes, I need it. I want to." she whimpered, feeling his fingers lessen on her face and making her head falling into his chest. Her release was building rapidly, the coil in her belly tightening with each thrust of his hand. "Harry, please, I'm going to-"

“You’re going to what?” He taunted, pulling her head back by the hair. “C’mon, good girl. Those lips are good for more than sucking cock, aren’t they? Y’like to talk all night to everyone else. Talk.” 

She choked out a moan as he pulled her head back, her body shaking with the force of her impending orgasm. "I'm going to cum.”

“Say please.” He reprimanded. “You can do better than that. You’re so polite with everyone else too. Where are the manners for me?” The tone was condescending, cruel, and it made her want to cum. He could feel it as she pulsed around his fingers. “Where is that sweet girl, hm? Or do I only get the slut t’night?”

She whimpered, her face contorting with the effort to hold back. "P-please, Harry. Please, may I come? Please?" The words tumbled out of her mouth, desperate and needy and everything she knew he wanted despite the desperation. "I can't hold back, please. I need-" Her cry was muffled by his hand, clamping over her mouth as her orgasm hit her with full force. She bucked against his hand, her body clinging to his as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her inner muscles milked his fingers, more of her cum coating his fingers.

She let out a soft mewl against his palm as he buried his fingers deep one final time, pressing her firmly against the brick to keep her up. Holding her trembling body as she came down from her high, he gave quiet reassurance as he felt her pulse around his digits.

She sagged against him, her body boneless in the aftermath of her intense release. She nuzzled into his chest, her breath hitching as he slowly withdrew his fingers, feeling the wet smear as he pulled it out of her panties. He’d made a mess out of her. She whimpered at the loss, her eyes fluttering shut as he showed her the slick coating them. "That's...that's embarrassing." she murmured, her face hot as she leaned her head back from him to rest on the wall.

“S’not.” He muttered, sucking the wetness from his digits with a soft hum. “Told you. Think I like you a little bit pathetic. Makes my cock hard. You do a good job.”

What did it say about her that she felt slightly giddy over the thought of him being turned on by her needy behavior? That Y/N felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of being his pathetic little thing? She reached out, her hand shaking as she tried to clean his fingers with her thumb. Her brain was jumbled and the air felt much warmer now, making her take a few breaths as the pieces of the puzzle came back together as her body joined her back down on earth. "So you’re…. um, when we’re done, we’re leaving together?"

“Yeah.” He wiped the remnants of her on his jeans, using the clean hand to fix her hair. “Think you can behave long enough without my cock t’get through the rest of the night?”

She bit her lip, her eyes flicking down to the bulge in his jeans. "I'll try," she promised, her voice still holding a bit of breathlessness to it. Y/N had to wonder if she’d ever truly have the upper hand but… did she actually want to? Having him control her in ways everyone else had failed was really fucking nice. "But you can't look at me like that. And...and you have to behave too." She reached out, tracing the seam of his zipper over his cock. "Can you? Behave, I mean." She knew he was as eager as she was.

“I can.” He shot her a look, putting his hand over hers to place her palm over his cock. “M’not the greedy, crying slut here. I can wait until we leave.”

Her touch grew firmer as she wrapped her hand around his erection through his pants. "But what if I can't wait?" she taunted, her voice low. "What if I want to touch you right now? What would you do?" She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. "Would you push me to my knees?" She slowly unbuttoned his pants, her knuckles brushing against his hard flesh.

Her seduction was halted when she felt the large hand wrapping around her throat. It wasn’t too rough, pushing her back and crowding her against the wall with his body, but she felt the thrill as his voice emerged as a dark snarl. “I said, we’re waiting. Don’t be a fucking brat or you won’t get my cock in your throat tonight. I know you’re gagging for it.” His breath washed against her lips. “But if you ask me real sweet, I’ll let you taste my tongue before I take your horny ass inside.”

Her pulse jumped under his fingers. The threat in his words sent a shiver down her spine, even as her cunt clenched with renewed need. Y/N searched his eyes, seeing the barely restrained hunger there. "Please, Harry?" she breathed, her voice trembling. "Can I taste your tongue? I promise I'll be good for the rest of the night."

What had this man done to her? 

Usually Y/N was the one who left men begging- but this borderline asshole of a man ruined her panties just by calling her pathetic. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew it was something she’d worry about later. “There y’go. seems like you can listen to direction after all.” His hand around her throat tightened possessively as he crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue pushed past her parted lips, licking against hers in a filthy slick over. Y/N moaned softly, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him closer. The kiss was wet, messy, and full of promise that made her knees feel weak. She didn’t want it to end, not even for a second- but when he finally pulled back, they were both breathless. "I'll be good. I promise."

[limethefirst]

hwellooooo i love your movie shadow fics!! Would it be alright if i made a request i finally got to see sonic movie three today as my christmas present and im brain rotted from it. Could we have a movie shadow x a reader who maybe prehaps shadow meet when he woke up at gun? Maybe prehaps he sees that the reader is being mistreated and hiut by gun after they have been looking after shadow in statis for awhile because they do see the good in him and tried to defend gim before he woke up to let him be left alone. Then when shadow sees it something snaps in him and he saves them. Bringing them with him to get revenge on gun, wanting for protect them for her act of kindness towards him seeing a glipse of maria in her.

Protector

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of being hurt/kinda bullied by everyone at work

summary: after waking up from statis Shadow asks you to come with him, wanting to protect you after you protected him

a/n: thank you for the love! This request kinda stumped me so sorry for taking a bit and if it isn’t the best, I was thinking of ways to incorporate the reader into the story but for it to also make sense

You were a worker at GUN, a lower level worker, at least that’s what your co-workers liked to joke about. A laughing stock, the work punchline. Basically deemed as unimportant and unnecessary but the reason for this wasn’t because you sucked at your job or you were a loser, no, it’s because your task was looked down upon.

When you were hired, the one thing you were told to do was watch over and take care of Project Shadow; you would clean the room he was stored in, kept the glass from getting cloudy and would just watch over him. A little protector, the others called you.

Today was no different from the day before, or the day before that or even the month before. It was routine. You quietly made your way to Shadows containment unit. The guards watched you enter, only sparing you a quick glance before going back to whatever they were talking about.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you made your way to the glass, checking for any cracks or signs for deterioration, “This sucks,” you quietly exclaimed.

Not because you hated looking after Shadow, no that was something you actually enjoyed, you’d some blabber about your day, finding comfort in the fact he couldn’t actually hear you; though sometimes you wish he could.

No, what sucked was the fact everyday at work was another day of being belittled and looked down upon. If it weren’t for the fact you’d grown somewhat attached to the little hedgehog, as well as a really good pay, you probably would’ve left this job by now. 

Slowly you continued to check the glass, making sure it was in perfect condition. As you did a sudden movement had caught your eye, it was fast and quick; like a flicker of light.

You weren’t able to quite catch what is was though because it was gone almost as fast as it was there, so you tried to leave it alone, going back to cleaning and checking the containment unit.

Suddenly the guards shouted your name, which was strange as they didn’t really talk to you much, thinking you were weird for protecting a hedgehog in Statis. You turned over for them and saw you motioning to move away from Shadow.

You only made a few advances towards them before a bunch of soldiers stormed the room, “What are you guys doing?!” You angrily questioned the masked men.

None of them responded, their gazes fixed on the hedgehog in front of you. The room became eerily still, the only thing you could hear was the faint beep of the machine wired to enhance and check Shadows heart beat.

It was a fast paced beep, it was getting worse and worse, you started to grow worried, trying to make your way to the machine so you could check it but one of the soldiers held you back. Not gently, quite forcefully, sparing no expense when it came to Project Shadow.

Then it stilled. The long beep indicating it was over, your eyes widened, a mix of shock and confusion over coming you. The soldier that was holding you back let you go, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Crack.

The glass was shattered. Shadow had finally woken up, and his demeanor only showed one thing. That he wanted revenge.

You were quickly pushed onto the cold floor, hitting your arm harshly, a small cut formed as blood was seeping from the wound. You let out a hiss of pain that didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the hedgehog.

He didn’t have a chance to react though as the men started to shoot at him, not caring that you were in the room. You tried to duck and ran into the corner hoping that no stray bullets, rubber or not, wouldn’t come your way.

Shadow made quick work of the soldiers, effortlessly taking them down without breaking a sweat. Then he made it to you, his gaze was sharp, but he didn’t attack you. He just watched you, his eyes looking at the cut you had on your arm, the blood dripping onto the floor. He looked back at the man who pushed you down.

His expression was unreadable. You both looked at each other, for some reason you weren’t scared, you should’ve been considering you just saw him take down over 8 armed men but if Shadow was going to hurt you he definitely would’ve already.

“Come.” He told you, turning his back to you as he punched the wall in front of him down and looked back at you before he continued to walk to the edge of the cliff.

Shadow wasn’t entirely sure why he told you to come with him. There wasn’t a set moment he knew you would accompany him, all he knew was that you weren’t like the other workers, who saw him as a threat and tried to take him down. You defended him, and for this kindness he would repay you. By becoming your protector, like you had been protecting him before.

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[lilacxoz]

JJK Men when you want to hang out with friends!

(Gojo, Choso, Toji, Geto, Sukuna)

Warnings!!! Smut, creampie, derogatory remarks, possessiveness, power play, pet names(baby, ma), decryphilia, strong language.

No beta read. Expect errors.

minors DNI

GOJO SATORU - just 5 more minutes.

“Please don’t go.” He’s almost begging. It was pathetic, yet you your hips met his every thrust. He held his thick heavy arm around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper, onto his angry cock.

“-toru, they’re waiting-“ he slams his lips to yours. He didn’t care that your friends were waiting downstairs. He needed you, his hips clashing with yours.

The sound was lewd, the slap of your hips with his, the squelch of his dick disappearing so deep inside of you.

He pulled away from your lips, his eyes practically glowing with the lust hidden behind them. He was a mess, his white cloudy hair stuck to his sweaty face.

“Just fi-five more minutes. Just f’me,” he breathes out, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the wooden door separating you from the hallway of your apartment.

Your hand reached down quickly to his wrist, his tip abusing your cervix with his deep thrusts. “Baby, don’t stop!” You cry out, the fear of getting caught nothing but an after thought. And how could you? Gojo’s dick so deep inside of you.

Your jaw fell slack as his hips snapped against yours, a painful pleasure that makes your mind foggy. His hand held your silky dress up to your waist, crystal blue eyes drinking in the sight of his dick go in and out. His thrusts so fast and brutal, like a piston broken from the case.

But it wasn’t enough, his brows furrowed as his veins popped out of his arms. He couldn’t get a enough, needed more and more of you. As if he was starved of you, high out of his mind.

“-Toru, s’too fast!” You cry out, face smushed against the now damp wood. Drool slid from your lips, eyes rolled back and your makeup running down your face. It was disgustingly perfect. The way you were just as drunk as he was off the climb to your highs.

Only you were closer, clenching oh so tight around his pulsating cock. “Yeah- fuck! baby’s gonna cum, do it. Mph! Cum f’me.” And the way you gripped him made his release an embarrassingly high pitched whine, head falling back as his hips dug into you.

He chased after you, using his arm to help clash your hips with his at a bruising speed. His lips parted as he whined out a mix of your name and ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s.

You bit down on your lip, still sensitive as he poured load after load of his thick ropes, drooling down the length of him. He was mesmerized, slowly riding out his high as he watched that creamy ring form around the base of him.

“Baby, hah, the girls are waiting-“ he grabbed you deeper into the apartment, keeping you still connected.

“Ju-Just, five more minutes. Just f’me, all f’me.”

CHOSO KAMO- dressed like that?

Choso was quiet, the kind of person most felt intimidated by. He had this quality about him, made him unapproachable. That never affected you though. Until you were on the receiving end of his intimidation.

He had his fingers deep inside you mouth, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink. “Just look at ya, hah, so slutty, fuck!” His dick was so deep inside of you, your black tights ripped in a threaded mess.

He was absolutely feral, eyes drinking in the sight of your face in the mirror. How dare you expect to get away with wearing such a small skirt, and your tits poking out? You were just asking for it.

“Baby, ah! Im just going to, ngh! have dinner with Nob-“ you couldn’t finish, fingers pushing deeper and deeper past your lips. Your tongue dancing across his digits.

“Only I get to see you like this.” His hips smashed against yours, “don’t forget that.”

You felt delirious, your brain a mush of emotions. Yet all you could think about was the way his tip was crushing, no, bruising your cervix.

“Ah~ never, yeah- never let me go out,” you cry, your mascara running down your damp cheeks. He knew you were right, yet he didn’t give a shit. He’d crawl to the end of the earth for you, just to bring you back down to the hell he lived in.

“You’re mine, you go out with me.” He purred, his hips snapping back against yours in one more delicious thrust. It made you see stars, your lips parted as you sucked in a shaky breath.

“Cho- yeah yeah yeah, don’t stop, please!” You cry out, thighs shaking as his thrusts only slow down.

He knows you’re breaking beneath him, fingers only plunging deeper down your throat. The tiny bathroom mixed with his heavy breaths and and your gags. He loves it, relishes in it.

“Throw it back on me,” he groans, a gutteral deep groan. He lets out shaky breaths, his hand on on your hip tightening. It hurt, his nails forming crescents on your skin.

You did as he asks, your thighs burning as you desperately crawled to your high. “Lemme cum, baby please! Ah! Lemme- FUCK!”

Tears burn your eyes as, Choso practically growling at the way you tighten around him. He’s done playing, you’ve learned your lesson.

He slips his fingers from your mouth, lazily bringing them down to your clit. Your body goes limp against the cool stone sink, crying out his name deliriously.

His pace was inhumane, letting out a high-pitched scream with each thrust. It was too much, your body spasming as you landed face first from your high. And Choso was right behind you.

Ropes and ropes of hot cum painted your insides, your jaw falling slack as his seed disgustingly slid down his balls and the insides of your thighs.

“All. Mine.” Choso said between each thrust, fucking his cum oh so deep inside of you. Deep enough to make you forget about your dinner with the girls.

TOJI FUSHIGURO - so pretty f‘me, ma.

Toji May not like how dedicated you are to doing your makeup and hair before going out with friends. But he knew you deserved a night out away from the brats. But he couldn’t let you leave without showing you how much you deserved it.

He let out a guttural moan, large hand on the small of your back as it arched deep into the sheets. “So pretty f’me, ma.” He just couldn’t stand it, the bounce of your ass against his base. Taking in every single thick inch of him.

Your teeth dug into the pillow below you, lipstick stained to the white sheets. You had to be quiet, afraid to wake up the sleeping kids he managed to put to sleep.

“Quiet ma, just, yeah, put those brats to sleep~” he purred. But you couldn’t help it, drunk on his dick as he shoved so deep inside, painfully delicious.

"Toji- fuck, the girls will be here, ah! so-soon," you mewled out into the white pillow. Toji shushed you, his thrusts slow yet so fucking powerful. each thrust digging you deeper, deeper, deeper into the bed.

"I'll be quick ma," he groaned, digging his face into the crook of your neck. your eyes fell back as he sunk his teeth into your skin, lips parting at the pain it delivered.

He was drunk on your pussy, the way it was so tight around his angry dick, shoving it oh so deep into your syrupy mess. it was enough to make you cry out, not caring if the kids heard you.

"Shhh," he shoved your face deeper into the pillow. your hands desperately found purchase in the sheets, thighs shaking as your orgasm approaches so quickly. it was almost embarrassing how whiney you were, but it turned Toji on so much. he couldn't get enough.

"cum on this dick baby," he let out a grunt with each powerful thrust. your head wobbling against the fabric headboard with each snap of his hips, crying into the pillow as you fell so hard into your orgasm.

he winced, you were so fuckin' tight. milking him, he didn't think he'd have the heart to pull out. "keep squeezin' ma, put, fuck, another brat in-into you." he was losing his mind at this point, hips slapping against your ass so hard it was bruising.

he found the willpower to pull out, shooting hot sticky cum all over your ass. he let out deep and throaty moans at the sight, using his tip to make a mess of it over the fatness of your ass and hips.

"oh so pretty f'me, ma."

GETO SUGURU - back that ass up.

Geto was addicted to you. But when he came home from a long day of working with monkeys only to find you all dressed up for the club. He just had to get his taste.

“Back that ass up,” he purred deep into your ear, his tip just kissing your entrance as he held your back against his chest. Waiting so patiently for you to sit on it.

"I've gotta gooo," you softly plead, making half-hearted attempts to leave. Geto knew you weren't sincere, his tip glistening with the mixture of his pre-cum and your sticky wetness. he was reveling in it.

his hands pull you closer by the tight fabric of your dress, your panties nothing but a pool at your feet. he brought his lips against your ear, brushing them against the soft shell. he needed you, needed you so bad.

"C'mon baby, just a quickie before you leave," he purred. you looked back at him, his cheeks flushed as his eyes were glued to the connection between you. As much as you didn't want to be late, the look in his eyes was enough to egg you on.

you slid down on him, oh so slowly. he gritted his teeth, so tight as if he'd ground his teeth to a fine powder. his head fell back as you ever so slowly bounced on his dick.

he softly moaned your name, cupping the fat of your hip. he loved when you sat on him, your perfect figure, eyes following each curve of your ass and waist. he just couldn't. get. enough.

the bed groaned under your combined weights, his teeth capturing his bottom lip as he lost himself. he was so pussy whipped, the only thing on his mind is how deep he was inside of you.

he reached a hand around, a handful of your stomach. he was obsessed with you, your body, your mind, and especially your needy pussy.

"fu-fuck girl, pussy soooo hungry," he groaned, his hips moving with yours. he watched your ass bounce and ripple, sucking him to the fucking base. milking him of everything he had.

"ngh~ yeah! gonna need yo-your card tonight, ah!" you whined, his tip just kissing your cervix.

Geto groaned, holding you still in his hands before he started to ruthlessly fuck into you. he'd give you what you wanted, but first, he needed to cum inside of you. and with how pent-up he'd been lately, he wasn't far from it.

you cupped your hand over your mouth, your moans and begs uncontrollable as he elicited your climax. and it came quick, eyes rolling back as he fucked wave after wave of pleasure into you.

you were squeezing him so tight, his moans turned whiny and pitchy as his thighs burned. years of training led him to this fucking moment, fucking into you as if his life depended on it.

"yeah, fuck fuck fuck!" he whimpered. "gonna fill this pretty pussy so good," he groaned. and as if the straw that broke the camel's back, the look you gave him, eyes half-lidded and lips parted had him falling-diving into his orgasm.

he held you close as he came down from his high. and then you felt the coolness of his debit card slide onto your thigh, seeing those familiar digits making you smirk.

RYOMEN SUKUNA - take it off.

Sukuna was the king of curses. He always got his way, and was the strongest among most. Except the last part didn’t apply to you.

He was pissed that a mortal such as you even dared to step out of the closet in such a slutty dress. Your tits falling perfectly against your chest, your fat hips so tight along the thin silky fabric of your dress.

He hated women for their seductive power. Yet right now, he loved the way you had him wrapped around your finger. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he loved how easily you riled him up.

“Take it off, woman.” He demanded, voice deeper then usual. Your pink slips formed a smirk as you shook your head. Your mistake.

Now your face was smooshed against his silky aubergine sheets, crying-no, begging him to slow down. Begging for his mercy.

his tongue fucked in and out of you so fast and quick, lips trembling as you struggled to even form coherent words. stupid women, he thought, thinking you could do whatever you wanted.

his nails dug into the soft flesh of your ass, blood soaking his fingers as he spread your ass apart. but you didn't care about the pain, you needed him to bring you to that finish line.

"Kuna!" you moaned, voice bouncing off the walls to his chambers. Perhaps a servant could hear the disgusting moans slipping from your pretty pink lips, perfect. he wanted the whole damn world to know how defenseless you were to him. how obedient you were.

"louder, women. let the world know you have no power against me," he groaned. the truth was, Sukuna was the one powerless, so drunk and delirious off of your pussy. it was almost sinful, the way he ate you out as if you were his death row meal. and maybe you were, with how many civilians he killed on a daily.

you fisted his silky sheets below you, crying out his name to slow down. your knees were weak with how white hot cold flashes sent your body over the edge. the overstimulation mixed with your orgasm caused you to moan so loud you could shatter glass.

Sukuna liked that. seeing you fall apart in his hands.

he slapped your ass as he drank your orgasm, pretty folds drenching his lips and chin in your arousal.

he managed to pull away, flipping you onto your back. he stood to his full height, letting his robes fall down his body to reveal his two angry thick cocks, begging for you.

"I'll show you, mortal woman, you are powerless against me in that slutty clothing."