#fucking hate being at the mercy of others

[vidalswife]

Imagine:

Rio's just popped out of the ground on the witches road, the coven is making their way to their sleeping quarters in order to get a head start on the journey.. turns out, no one else has room for another person except for Agatha. One thing leads to another, and then..

Let me know if you want to see a full one shot written!

Rio's body was pressed against Agatha's back, her head was close enough to the back of her neck that the older woman could feel every warm breath she took. It was tense, and neither of them dared to speak. It had been years since they slept in the same bed together, if you could even call what they did, 'sleeping'.

Agatha closed her eyes, potently trying to fall asleep. She knew how Rio was, and knew where things were going to go if she didn't black out soon. Rio was comfortable in the fact that Agatha hadn't moved her body away, and she could tell that even behind the intense nature of the situation, both of them felt comfortable.

Rio moved her hand to the brunette's side before fully wrapping her arm around Agatha's waist. She could hear the shakiness in her breathing, and it encouraged a slight smirk to crawl onto her lips.

Agatha debated internally whether she should move or say something, but she couldn't find the words nor did she really want to move.

But this changed, as Rio planted a warm kiss on the back of her neck. Agatha's eyes fluttered open, and she felt Rio's hand interlock with her own.

Agatha felt that if she let this go on she would regret it.. but the way it felt to be touched by the green witch, after all these years.. she couldn't bear to say no or retract. In her mind, she hoped it would just be meaningless kisses; maybe a few whispers of nothing important, but she was wrong. For all her years of knowing Rio Vidal, she should have known that she wouldn't just plant a kiss on her body for no reason.

Rio used her teeth to pull back the sweater that Agatha's top half was covered by, revealing just enough of her shoulder. The woman's lips left sweet kisses along her shoulder, and Rio's fingers unlocked.

She began to guide Agatha's hand with her own, bringing it to the opening of her pajama shorts. Her head tilted so as though to get closer to the older woman's ear, and she whispered, "I want to feel you.."

Agatha's heart was racing, and her mind went fuzzy as Rio guided her hand down her bottoms. She wanted to say no, to tell her to fuck off and that she hated her, but with each inch lower that their hands retreated, and each new kiss that was pressed against her skin, Agatha found herself humming in pleasure to the sensations.

Only Rio had ever done this to her, turned her into a disheveled mess. Agatha knew she would do anything for Rio, and Rio knew she would too.

As their hands reached the green witch's destination, she bit into Agatha's pale skin. She didn't bite with mercy, it was a harsh, piercing penetration to her shoulder.

Agatha's back arched, and she yelped in pain. For the two women, pleasure and pain were interchangeable, and one equaled the other.

Rio released her hold on Agatha's skin and licked the fresh bite wound she had just created. It felt like heaven to see her marks on her ex lover's body.

Rio let out a chuckle, saying in a raspy voice, "Do you like that, Aggie?.."

Agatha moaned quietly in response to her nickname, it increased the pooling wetness between her thighs, something Rio was definitely aware of.

Rio's fingers started to move Agatha's, forcing them to circle her clit slowly. Rio felt herself getting angry, she didn't like to be ignored, and she wanted to hear Agatha say it.

"I said, do you fucking like that, slut.."

Rio's fingers started to move quicker on top of Agatha's, and Rio bit into her shoulder again; this time harder, puncturing the skin easily.

Agatha moaned, gripping at the sheets which overlaid the bed as she was being stimulated in too many different ways. She knew if she was hesitant to answer again, Rio would probably fling her into the wall, force her down on her knees, and make her apologize for not being good, so she made a pointed effort to reply.

"Yes, fuck, yes Rio.." she moaned as the younger woman's fingers began to slip below Agatha's. She was no longer guiding hers, but Agatha was too scared to stop circling her clit.

Rio's teeth released Agatha's shoulder and she chuckled in that seductive tone she knew how to play.

"Do you love me.?"

The words left Rio as more of a demand, and Agatha, although she knew she would regret it, couldn't think straight in the moment. Her reply slipped from her lips in seconds, a simple yes, that brought a smile to Rio's face.

"I'm going to fuck your worthless cunt until you hate me, baby."

[stepfordgoth]

We are now into day 5 of being unmedicated! I feel like garbage and I want to die lol

[mishkakagehishka]

I hate social media and what it has done to feminism and women

[reshirfuse]

man. i hate getting older this sucks. Not cause old is bad, but cause everyone disappears in your life #572946 i hate being aroace and unable to love in ways people consider future securing i want to keep my friends forever i'll do anything i swear please please please please pleas please please pl

[helpimstuckinafandom]

JUSTICE FOR DAVINA CLAIRE I'M SO FUCKING SERIOUS FUCK OFF OH MY FUCKING GOD

[elijah-loyal]

dying again guys

(tag rant)

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

something i love about lawrence van helsing is how he is a protector... and how his strength lies in his compassion for others. his love and care for other people are what makes him truly strong. all he wants to do is make people feel better.

he is such a tragic figure, really, because he's always putting on a brave face for others. he's always putting others before himself. ever the selfless hero. but there is definitely something to be said about him neglecting himself and basing his worth on his importance to others by his actions.

[thatoneguywhowho]

WHERE ARE YOU WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU WHERE ARE YOU

[strang3lov3]

Safety First

While camping, Joel insists on thoroughly checking you for ticks. Safety first, after all. (6.5k)

Tags - smut, dbf!joel (there was no use fighting it for this one) forced proximity, tick checks but it’s just a precaution I promise there’s no ticks involved, enemies to lovers vibes, fingering, oral (f!receiving), edging, unprotected piv, creampie, finger sucking, come eating, implied age gap, reader is description-less apart from one freckle on her buttcheek and also has pubic hair, mild mild dubcon. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts , @beefrobeefcal @noxturnalpascal thank you for helping me get this together 🩷 A/N - This has been sitting for way too long in the drafts and it does feel a little scary to post but the only way out is through ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m working up a pt. 2 to On Display as well as some more stepdaddy roman and some other things <3 thank you for sticking around

enjoy, my fellow freaks <3

You’re not an outdoors person. At all. You hate bugs, you hate being at the mercy of mother earth and whichever type of weather she chooses at any given moment. You hate when it’s too windy, when it’s too cold, when it’s too sunny and hot and you’re sticky and sweaty and uncomfortable. You hate the mess of it all; the mud and the dirt, walking on uneven terrain, taking careful steps so as not to brush up against poison ivy. Not to mention how with each change of the season comes another allergen, whether it be pollen or ragweed or grass. Fucking grass. The earth is covered in it, and there’s no escape. 

Except for the great indoors. Temperature controlled, a simple push of a button makes the air warmer or colder at your will. A flick of a switch makes a room light or dark. Walls protect you from insects and the rain and the harsh rays of the sun. It’s a beautiful thing, and exactly where you’re gonna stay tonight. If only you could get the television to cooperate…

“Would you quit toyin’ with the electronics? You got TV outside. Go see if you can spot a raccoon or somethin’. Thought you loved those critters.” 

You roll your eyes. You were expecting that type of comment to be made by Joel at some point or another. He’s the exact opposite of you, he is an outdoors person. He loves it all - fishing, hiking, golfing. Exposing himself to the elements. 

“I’m not going outside.” 

“Why not?”

“I’m not a nature person,” you tell him plainly. 

Joel scoffs, “God, you’re a diva. And your dad is too, for havin’ a fuckin’ camper like this. And when he gets back, you can tell him Joel said so.” He looks around himself, judging the pristine interior of your dad’s RV. Glamping. That’s what this is. It’s not real camping, not when you’ve got an oven and air conditioning and a bathroom with a shower. The point of camping is to get away from this sort of life, to reconnect with nature. “You too high-society for a tent or somethin’?” 

You turn around to look at Joel, your brows knit in faux-concern. “Wait - Joel, do you hear that?” 

“Hear what, darlin’?” Joel searches for the out of place noise you’re asking about. “I don’t hear anything.”

“It sounds like…” you hum, really putting on an act. “Sounds like this thing called air conditioning. I think it’s after your time, but it’s really neat - when it’s hot outside –”  

Joel interrupts, “Real nice, fuckin’ smartass.” He fights hard to bite down on his smile, to not give you the satisfaction of making him laugh with that zinger. “After my time,” he sneers. “You’re testin’ me. Now c’mon outside with me, let’s get a fire started.” 

“No.” 

“Do it for me,” Joel pleads. “Pretend you like me. Just for tonight, kiddo.” He wears his most charming smile and it shouldn’t work, but it does. 

“Fine,” you concede. “But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it so you get off my ass.” 

“Atta girl,” Joel stands up from where he sat on the couch, groaning as he stretches. You catch yourself peeking at his tummy, admiring that trail of dark hairs that travel below his belly button and beneath his pants. God, an asshole like Joel does not deserve to look as fucking handsome as he does. Thick arms and thighs, soft tummy. Sparkling chocolate eyes, a sharp aquiline nose. Gentle curls, all dark but painted with streaks of gray. And you, you have absolutely no business being so infatuated with him. 

Joel’s your father’s best friend, and a piece of shit. He’s condescending, arrogant, brash. Your dad always said Joel had a sweet spot for you, but you’re sure that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Joel taught you how to drive a stick shift, which ended with you in tears with the car stalled at the bottom of a hill. He also used to help you with your geometry homework, insistently reminding you that geometry was in fact, not useless. That he uses geometry every day of his life working in construction. Those nights at his kitchen table always ended with you and he at each other’s throats, arguing over the right answers. It didn’t last forever, though. Joel ended up moving a couple hours away, and you grew up. You found yourself missing him on occasion. As much of a dick as he was, he was still an important figure in your life. He offered you advice, let you cry on his shoulder after your first breakup, picked you up from parties you weren’t supposed to be at, no questions asked. Nevertheless, he’s still an ass. He was then, and he is now.

Actually, he’s not even supposed to be here with you right now. This was supposed to be a weekend camping trip with just you and your father, but as your dad was getting the RV in order he received a call from his next-door neighbor. Water was pouring out from his front door, which meant the entire main floor had flooded. You weren’t around for this call, however, as your dad had tasked you with hiking down to the nearby camp store to pick up some ice and some matches. Your dad left a note explaining what had happened and that his theory is that one of his idiot dogs must have turned on a sink or something. He said he was sorry for leaving, and that his old buddy Joel - you remember Joel, don’t you? - lives close by and would stop by with some dinner for you. 

Your heart raced when you read the note. It had been years since you’d last seen Joel, years since he last saw you. You knew nothing of what to expect, if he’d drop the food off and go or if he’d stick around. Your question was quickly answered when Joel pulled up in his truck, a large Aurelio’s pizza in his hands and an overstuffed backpack on his shoulder.  He tapped urgently on the camper door, “Open the door for me, would ya? Pizza’s fuckin’ hot.” 

You let Joel in wordlessly. He placed the pizza on the table, then looked for a spot to put his belongings down. “Hope you don’t mind, hon, but your dad called again and asked that I stay the night. He’s not gonna be back in time and doesn’t wanna leave ya out in the woods on your own.” 

“That’s fine,” you answered. It was quiet then, as you took in Joel and he did the same to you. He’s older now, and so are you. You felt yourself becoming shy as he scanned you up and down. Joel sensed your uncomfortability and cleared his throat, then helped himself to a slice of pizza. “Eat up,” he told you. 

That was hours ago. Early evening, maybe. The awkwardness had worn off as you shared the pizza, and you were back to bickering in no time. And now here you are, out in the trees collecting kindling for a fire. Joel’s closer to the camper, using your dad’s hatchet to chop up some firewood. “Don’t wander too far,” he calls after you. “S’gettin’ dark.” 

You roll your eyes. Like you’d ever go willingly further into the trees. You collect sticks, listening to the sounds of nature. Crickets, an animal rustling in the leaves. If there weren’t mosquitos biting your legs right now, you’d almost enjoy this. Almost. 

When you feel you’ve collected a sufficient amount of sticks, you bring it back to Joel at the campsite. Joel inspects your pile, “Looks good t’me,” he says. “Why don’t you go look for some s’mores stuff inside, I’ll get the fire started.”

You go back into the camper and browse the pantry, finding some two months expired Jet-Puffed marshmallows and some graham crackers. No chocolate, though. You opt instead for some Keebler fudge stripe cookies you packed instead and bring the ingredients out to Joel. “No chocolate,” you tell him. “Does this work?”

“Oh, s’perfect. Changes the game, actually,” he says excitedly, his eyebrows perking in excitement. “You’re a genius.” 

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. Joel sits down in one of the camping chairs, you sit at the one next to him. He finds the campfire skewers resting against the side of the RV and cleans them off in the growing fire he’s started in the firepit, then puts two marshmallows on one end, twirling them over the flame. “How toasty would you like your marshmallow, darlin’?”

“Barely,” you answer. “Like, don’t let it touch the flame.” 

“That’s asinine,” Joel replies. “Gotta give it more color than that. ‘Sposed to be on fire.” 

“No, thank you. That’s disgusting. Just golden brown, please.” 

“Golden brown. I can work with golden brown,” Joel says. He holds the marshmallow over the flame, careful not to let it touch, just like you asked. A small movement across his hand captures his attention, though. “What the…”

“What is it, Joel?”

“It’s…” Joel studies his hand, his attention now focused on a little bug crawling across it. The marshmallows on the skewer become entirely burnt, melting into the firepit as Joel tries to identify the bug. “Oh, fuck.” 

“What?”

Joel sets down the skewers and carefully shows you the bug on his hand. Teeny tiny, almond shaped, eight legs. “That’s a fuckin’ tick. He’s lookin for a place to burrow.” 

You make a repulsed face as Joel flicks the parasite into the fire. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ bastard. Must’ve fallen on me when we were collectin’ wood. God bless it,” he groans. “Inside. We need to check for more.” 

You pout. “Really?”

“Really,” Joel answers. “Try not to look so excited. It’s only a couple ‘a minutes. We’ll make new s’mores when we’re done.”

You get out of your chair and Joel holds the camper door open for you, letting you inside first. He follows suit, only after dumping some water on the fire. He’s got enough dry wood to start a new one when you come back out there. You sit on the couch and Joel joins you, then pulls off his t-shirt. He runs his hands through his hair, using his fingers to search for anything that feels like it’s not supposed to be there. He turns away from you, “Check my neck and back for me, first,” he says. “Please.” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Joel’s half naked in front of you, and you’re tasked with searching his body. Every goddamn inch. It’s going to be fucking torture. “Okay,” you breathe.

You hesitantly reach for his shoulders and pull them back slightly to urge him to sit up straighter, then push his curls away from his neck. Joel shivers slightly with your touch. You inspect the nape of his neck, then one shoulder, then the other. He’s so fucking broad, his shoulders miles wide. Joel senses your timidity as you gingerly touch him, “Need somethin’ from me? Want me to lean forward a little?”

“Uhm…yeah - yes,” you whisper. 

Joel leans forward to allow you to search the expanse of his back for any ticks. Thankfully, you’re coming up empty. Just all of Joel’s tan, smooth skin, all for you to touch and examine under the warm glow of the lights. You find yourself mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of his torso with every breath he takes, the silvery stretch marks by his hips. His skin is so warm under the palms of your hands, all you can think about is touching, feeling, scratching him. His voice interrupts you from your thoughts, “You done?”

“Mhm.” 

Joel sits up and turns in your direction. “Front side, now,” he says. He’s looking right at you as you search his chest, just in case you see something he can’t. He holds out his arms one at a time for you to inspect and turn over, then raises them for you to check his underarms. When you’re finished, Joel stands up and unbuckles his belt. You swallow thickly. 

“I know. M’not thrilled either, hon, but they do like to hide in the more…private areas of the body.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Joel says. “Oh.” 

You avert your eyes as he pulls off both his jeans and boxers, covering his member with his two hands. “I can do my…you don’t have to check that out. But –”

“Your ass.” 

“My ass,” Joel sighs. “And legs. ‘Specially the back of ‘em, where I can’t see.” 

“Got it.” 

This couldn’t be more…god. Joel’s awkwardly covering himself with two hands, his head tilted back and looking at the ceiling. He turns around for you to check his backside and luckily there’s nothing, just his plump ass. If you were a better woman, you wouldn’t be thinking of squeezing it right now. Fuck. He’s so hot like this, completely nude and on display for you. His legs are so long and muscular, his tummy is soft and pillowy. 

You’re so quiet. God, Joel feels terrible for putting you through this. You must be so uncomfortable, but ticks are not worth rolling the dice on. Disgusting parasites. He decides to break the tension. “You remember my brother Tommy, don’tcha?”

Tommy. Younger than Joel, just as handsome. You didn’t see him as much as you saw Joel growing up, but you know him. “Yeah, sure. I remember Tommy.”

“Right. Well, Tommy knows all about ticks in places they ain’t ‘sposed to be.” 

“Oh?”

Joel turns around for you to check his thighs, then the front of his legs. “Mhm,” he says. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. He’d kill me for tellin’ ya.”

“No, no - tell me.” 

“Keep it to yourself. Don’t let him know I told ya,” Joel warns, then clears his throat before speaking. “Well,” Joel begins, “It’s Tommy’s senior year of high school right after graduation. His class goes campin’, right? Tommy meets up with a girl, things start to heat up.” 

“Right.”

“Right. You know where this is goin’. Clothes are comin’ off, they’re gettin’ handsy. And this girl feels somethin’ she ain’t supposed to on his uh…on his member.”

You gasp, “No.” 

“Tommy pulls out his flashlight and lo and behold…”

“Tick on his dick.”

“Tick on his dick,” Joel confirms. “Fully buried, and all full of blood. I don’t even know how he was able to get it up, truth be told.” 

“You’re joking. Joel, that’s fucking disgusting. Tell me you’re joking.” 

Joel looks down at you, his lips pressed together as he tries to stifle his laughter and shakes his head. In between gasps and giggles, Joel explains, “He made the poor girl drive him to the ER cause he was a faintin’ mess. I met ‘em both there. I was there when Tommy was explainin’ it all to the nurse, this little old lady. And she said somethin’ about his dick bein’ ribbed for her pleasure or somethin’ like that, fuckin’ riot of a woman. Oh god, I’d never seen him so red in my life,” he wipes a stray tear of laughter from his eye, then goes right back to laughing. 

You’re giggling with Joel. The way he tells the story, like he’s right back in the ER with Tommy tells you he’s being truthful. His eyes crinkle as he laughs.

“So then what happened?” 

“Well, Tommy ended up alright,” Joel says. “Poor girl never spoke to him again, though. Didn’t take long for rumors to start spreadin’, his friends all called him ‘Tommy Tick Dick’. He enlisted in the army shortly after that.” 

“Oh, did he?” 

“He was a real patriot, and there was nothin’ else to it,” Joel exaggerates the sentence as if he’s mocking Tommy. “Or so he says,” he adds. 

“So he says.” 

By the time Joel’s finished the story, you’re long done with his tick check. He puts on his boxer shorts and sits on the couch next to you, both of you still chuckling. “Alright, your turn.” 

“What do you mean, my turn?” 

“You were in the woods too, right? And longer than I was. You’re at more of a risk. I need’a check you, now.” 

“Oh, no thank you.” 

It’s not that you don’t trust Joel or anything like that. But Joel doesn’t need to know how turned on you are just from seeing and feeling his naked body. It’d be so obvious - he’d see your hard nipples and your arousal-soaked panties. And it’d only worsen as he touches you, his warm, masculine hands traveling over your body as he carefully searches every inch of your skin. On no planet would you expect him to be a gentleman about it, either. You know he’d tease you in one way or another, get some sort of sick satisfaction out of knowing how you really feel about him, deep down inside. 

“Yeah, nice try,” he says. “You got two choices: you can let me check ya for ticks now while it’s still easy, or you can wait until one’s buried in your skin and suckin’ your blood. I’d suggest the former.” 

He makes a compelling argument. “Former,” you agree, no questions about it. You can’t stand when a fly lands on you, or when an ant crawls across your foot. The thought of a tick in your…you’re not even going there. You’re gonna puke. 

“I’ll make it quick,” Joel assures. “Promise ya.”

Joel helps you to undress. He holds the sleeves of your hoodie as you pull your arms out of them, then pulls the garment off of you entirely, leaving you in just your bra. “Ready?” he asks, gently toying with the strap. 

“Mhm.” 

His fingers feel like pure electricity as they skate along your skin, he unclasps your bra and lets it fall to your lap. Instinctually, you cover your chest and turn away from him to allow him to check your skin. Just like you did to him, he checks your neck and shoulders first, his warm breaths fanning over you. His hands travel down your spine as he pushes you down, exposing more of your body for him to search. He traces over every mark, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he does. “You’re good. Come and face me, now,” he whispers. “Won’t bite ya.” 

You turn your body in Joel’s direction, still covering yourself. He holds your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb, turning your head back and to the side so he can check your throat, and then your collarbones. Joel reaches for your wrist and pulls it toward his body, stretching your arm out for him to turn over and inspect. He does the same with your other arm, patient as you adjust the way you cover yourself. His eyes widen slightly when you accidentally expose yourself, but you don’t seem to notice your mistake. 

“Stand up for me, now. Lemme check the rest.” 

He looks at the wall as you shimmy off your shorts, but leave your panties on. Fuck, you can feel how wet you are, that little awful mess between your thighs. You stand in front of him, arms still crossed over your chest. “Gimme a leg,” Joel murmurs, and you lift one leg and he sets your foot on the couch next to his thigh. He keeps one hand on your hip, holding you steady as he scans your thigh, turning your leg to the side so he can check your calves. He helps you back to two feet, then repeats the process with your other leg. “Good. Almost done, kiddo. You’re doin’ fine.” 

You turn around for him to check your backside, make sure nothing’s hanging out where it’s not supposed to be. “Just gonna move this to the side…” Joel says, carefully pulling the elastic of your panties out of the way. His fingers grace over the swell of your ass, as he quickly checks one side, then does the same thing to the other side. “Wait a sec–”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“Oh, you have got to be shittin’ me.” 

“Joel–”

“Get on the couch and lay on your stomach. Hurry, do it now.” 

You lay on your stomach on the couch, Joel picks up both of your legs and pulls your body until your ass is right on his lap. “Sorry, kiddo. Just bein’ thorough, here.” Your heart pounds as he moves your panties to the side and gingerly prods at an area on your ass cheek, right where it meets your thigh. Just millimeters away from where you need him most, where you’re dripping for him…

“Oh, thank Christ. False alarm. Just a freckle or birthmark or somethin’ back here,” Joel sighs in relief. But for you, relief never comes. Joel’s hand stays on your ass, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your skin. With each pass, he’s getting closer to your pussy, but still achingly far from it. “You’re clean.” 

“O-oh.”

Joel hears the uncertainty in your tone. “You alright there, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you answer. 

“You can put your clothes back on now.” 

Joel waits. It’s as if he said nothing at all, the way you ignore his suggestion. He finds it a little interesting that you won’t move, how you seem cozy on his lap. And in fact, you’re sighing, sort of inching your way closer to him. 

“Hon?”

“Hmm?”

“You gonna get dressed with me?”

“Mhm.”  

You’ve lost all subtlety. Joel notices that you’re arching your back, sort of rocking yourself on him. Trying to nudge his fingers just a little lower. You’re successful, and Joel feels the damp cotton of your panties on the tips of his fingertips and realizes, “Ohh. I get it,” he mumbles, chuckling. “You’re not bein’ subtle, you know.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” you lie. The first words out of your mouth that aren’t a lazy, quiet moan or hum of pleasure.

“Neither am I.”

Joel had an inkling that something like this was going on with you. He saw how your eyes wandered over his body, how your pupils went wide at the sight of his body. He could practically hear the thoughts in your brain, but he bit his tongue. Maybe he was wrong, maybe you were just nervous. It’d make sense. But he’d bit his tongue before, when all those years ago he helped maneuver your belongings in his truck to your college dorm. You fell asleep in the passenger seat next to him, your sleepy breaths turned to quiet whimpers of his name in your sleep as you squeezed your thighs together. Joel never mentioned it to you, wanting to protect you from the embarrassment. But he heard his name clear as day. 

He wonders how much longer you’ll keep this up for, writhing on his lap, never asking him for what you want. Joel knows exactly why, too. You’ve got some sort of reputation to uphold, you can never give him the satisfaction of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you like him. Even if it’s just sexual, born out of nothing but need for pleasure - pure, stupid pleasure. 

“You can just ask f’ya want somethin’ from me,” Joel encourages. “S’all you gotta do.”  To Joel’s amusement, you stay quiet. You’re really not doing yourself any sort of favors. “Not gonna?”

“No.” 

“Ah, she speaks. So you’re not gonna ask for nothin’, not gonna tell me what you want?” Joel moves your panties to the side and rests his fingers against your center, all hot and dripping with need. “C’mon, now.”

You’re fighting against yourself. You know this, know that if you so much as lean into his touch a little more than you should that technically, you’re compliant - you’re docile, you’re willing. You’ll lose the game - a game where your only opponent is yourself, yet Joel wins all the same. 

“Got no good reason to be stubborn about this,” he purrs. He slides both hands over the swell of your ass and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, then pulls them down your thighs and off your legs. He parts your legs and cups your mound, toying with the hair there before dipping his fingers between your lips, humming in delight when he feels the considerable pool of arousal at your core. You’re fucking soaked, and despite this, you still won’t say a word. You just whimper and wiggle against him. “F’ya don’t ask, you don’t receive. You wanna keep makin’ things difficult for yourself?”

It’s a warning, but he’s giving you an out. You prop yourself up on your elbows, then turn your head and look over your shoulders at Joel. He searches your face and waits for you to speak, but you don’t. Of course you don’t, because you’re hellbent on giving Joel any shred of pride about this, the fact he’s got you in his lap and melting under your touch. It’s all futile, though. He can see it on your face, your wide eyes and your open mouth, practically salivating as you watch him stroke your folds gently, so gently. Joel smiles, unashamed of the pleasure he’s getting out of this.  

“You know what’d happen if you used your words? F’ya told me that ya want me?”

“What?” 

“Well,” Joel says, dipping two fingers into your slick entrance. He pushes them in slowly, letting you feel the way his knuckles stretch your pussy. He pulls them out almost all the way to admire the way you’ve soaked him, then pushes back in. He continues, “I’d give you the lovin’ I know you need. Make you come however you’d like, however much you’d like. Would that be so terrible?” 

You whimper as he begins to curl his fingers, “Joel.” 

“I know you’re tempted, sweetheart. It’s yours if you want it.” 

Last chance. He’d make good on his promise, you can see it in his eyes, all dark with lust and wide with excitement. You can feel it in his touch, the intent to bring you nothing but pleasure evident in how he strokes you. But maybe you don’t need to be loved right now, maybe you’d prefer to be used. To feel him indulge himself in your cunt, feel his selfishness in the way he fucks you, and never allow him the satisfaction of making you come. You win the game this way.  

“Other option is, we do things my way. Couldn’t quite tell you yet exactly what that entails, though…so weigh your risk and reward carefully.” Joel warns. “Last call, darlin’. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” Joel waits for you to object, but you never do. Game restarted, ignited by the way you settle in his lap, your silent way of telling him your body is for him to use as he pleases. “Alright, then. My way it is.” 

Joel curls his fingers rhythmically in your cunt, brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. He groans, loving those slick, wet noises your cunt makes for him as he admires your body laid out on his lap, all of that soft, smooth skin of yours is just for him. You squirm as he touches you, biting down on your moans and letting him only hear quiet sighs of pleasure. 

As quickly as it begins, it’s over. Joel pulls his fingers from you and you whine in disappointment. “Somethin’ you wanna tell me?” Joel asks, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, just–” 

Joel wraps both of his big, masculine hands over your waist and pushes you further up the seat of the couch so that you’re not laid across his lap any longer. He kneels behind you and looks around for something - pillow, clothes, blanket - he tugs on a removable couch cushion and you look over your shoulder in curiosity. 

“Then don’t you worry about what I’m doin’ back here,” he says. “Eyes forward.” 

You turn back around, excitement bubbling in your lower stomach. Joel taps your hip, “Lift up for me, kiddo,” he urges, and you lift your hips. He slides a pillow under them, propping your ass up for him. He lays on his tummy, and it’s a rather tight fit on the couch of the camper but he doesn’t mind. 

Joel nudges your thighs apart a little and harshly squeezes the flesh of your ass. He spreads your cheeks apart, finally getting a picture-perfect view of your cunt, all glistening with ribbons of your creamy arousal. He can see the muscles twitch, your hole puckering as you await his touch. “You made a mess,” he murmurs, sliding the pad of his thumb through your slick folds. He collects your arousal on his fingertips and lunges forward, his body covering yours and brings those fingers to your lips and pushes them into your mouth. You can feel his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, Joel grinding himself against your ass as you suck his fingers clean, you hum at the taste. 

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and gets right back into position, his knees cracking as he does, spreading you out again so that he can bury his face in your pussy. He does exactly that, pressing a kiss to your slick, warm center, dragging his tongue up higher until he reaches your asshole. You gasp when Joel spits on it and circles the muscle with his tongue, fuck, he really is doing things his way. He rounds your tight hole, all wet and sloppy before he dips his tongue inside, causing you to squirm at the unfamiliar sensation. He finishes the job with a couple of kisses there, kisses that travel lower and lower until he reaches your pussy once again. 

The little sigh of relief you breathe out when Joel’s lips reach the area you need him most is not lost on him, and he smirks against you. He kisses your pussy, loving the way your slick, soft cunt feels against his lips, against his face. Joel inhales you, the scent of your sweet arousal. He hopes that later, he’ll smell your essence on his mustache and be reminded of this moment here with you, and he’ll be hard all over again. He’ll stroke his cock and think of your cunt, groaning your name as he spills into his own hand. But for now, he focuses on you. 

He uses a pointed tongue to trace along the length of your folds, up and down, up and down until his it rests against your slick hole. He dips inside and tastes your honeyed arousal, he finds your heady, musky flavor so addicting. He could spend forever here, that perfect, warm, private space between your thighs. 

Joel finds himself torn between wanting to eat you the way he should and the way he wants to. He vacillates between savoring you, loving your soft, wet cunt and the way he can make you grind on his face, even if it’s just slightly, and devouring you whole, sucking your sensitive bud to make your legs shake and causing you to pull away from him - he knows it’s too much too fast. Joel settles on the latter of the two manners. His tongue laving over your pussy, lips wrapped around your clit is not something he does for you, but to you. It’s all for him, after all. There’s passion and determination, and he means to love you, please you. But it devolves, it’s all aggression, fingernails digging into your flesh and bruising you almost like he could strip your bones of it. 

He’s getting ahead of himself. If his scruff were shorter, he’d be rubbing you raw, and you almost wish he could. Joel wishes to smell and taste you later, you yearn to feel him on your skin just the same. You’d feel your tender inner thighs ache when you sit down and when you shower, the lather of your soap making your skin burn. You’d remember the weight of his hands holding your ass in place, the pressure of his tongue lapping your folds. You reach behind yourself, searching for something, any part of him to hold onto. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at those graying curls as you bite into the flesh of your own thumb. 

“J- fuck, oh my god.” 

You’re moaning, unable to help yourself. Getting close, you attempt to pull away from Joel, seeking to limit your own pleasure so as not to come on his tongue. 

“Don’t you run from me,” Joel mumbles, pulling you right back in. He keeps you held still, so secure in his grip that you can’t writhe and squirm away from or toward him. “You’re gonna take it,” he tells you. You’re gonna feel his sharp, big nose tease your ass, feel his tongue lapping at your sensitive clit. Joel eats you like he’s starved and you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, steaming hot and ready for him to sink his teeth into. 

You’re seeing stars. It takes all the mental focus you have not to come on his tongue, not to give him that reward. Joel finds it all amusing, you won’t even let yourself moan. He can hear that you’re trying to, but you’re swallowing your own noises and whimpering into your skin. Your thighs twitch with your impending release, and Joel tries his hardest to push you over the edge. But Joel’s only a man, and when his jaw and his tongue begin to tire he relents, pulling away from your body only in minor defeat. “You might’a won the battle,” he says, biting your ass cheek right where it meets your thigh. “But you’re losin’ the war. I ain’t finished with you yet.” 

Joel kneels behind you, then spreads your thighs apart with one of his knees. “Nice an’ wide,” he instructs. He groans as he pushes the waistband of his boxers down his thighs, his leaking and rock hard cock springing free. He spits in his hand and pumps it a couple times, coating his member in his own saliva before he leans lower, lower, until the blunt head of his cock is nudging against your core. One of his arms is bent and hovering near your head as notches himself inside you, then pulls out, only to push himself back in slightly. He chuckles when you squirm, arching your back in attempt to take more than what he’s giving you. “Easy, easy,” he purrs. “You’re hellbent against comin’ for me anyway, so what’s with the rushin’?”

“Joel,” you whine. 

“Oh, I know…” Joel groans as he buries himself into you fully, that slow, slide inside your body has him biting his lower lip. You’re so tight, and Joel knows you’re loving that ache, that stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open. “Got you figured out, you know. I know why you’re doin’ this,” he grunts, pulling out of you all the way. He pushes back inside you, “You think you’re provin’ a point.” 

“Joel, I’m -”

“You don’t have to like me, sweetheart, but I know you like how I make ya feel. It’s allowed, baby. This don’t have to mean nothin’ else.” 

You don’t answer him. Not that you could, anyway. He’s building a steady pace, fucking you so deeply and so intentional. His motions are fluid, his cock hitting you in all the right places. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his warm body moving against yours, and you’re losing yourself in him, moaning and babbling nonsense. You reach for his hand in front of you and bring it to your mouth, then suck and nibble on two of his thick fingers. Fuck, you can taste yourself on his skin. 

Joel likes this, the feeling of your lips and tongue and teeth on his fingers. He knows you’re trying to pacify yourself, quiet your noises as if by doing so, you could push away the pleasure building deep inside you. The attempt only serves to egg him on, fuck you harder, faster. He slides a hand under your tummy and his fingers find your clit, the weight of his body on yours and the pillow under your abdomen aids him to achieve a perfect angle to stimulate and massage your sensitive bud. “Oh, there it is. You’re in for it now, kiddo.” 

It works like a charm. You gag on his fingers, slobbering as Joel fucks you. All you can do is take it, take the pleasure that he creates with you between stuttering hips and writhing bodies. It’s quickly becoming too much, release is inevitable as Joel fills you up over and over and over. You can’t stave it off much longer, not when you can hear the lewd, obscene noises of you cunt gushing on his cock and Joel, with his grunting, moaning. “Fuck, sweetheart. Goddamn.” Hot tears begin to spill down your cheeks, dampening his skin and Joel knows, oh how he knows how hard this is for you, you poor thing. He’ll soothe you if you’ll let him. “Come on, hon. Let go for me.” he urges. “You’re gonna come for me.” 

There’s no choice in the matter anymore, and you realize this. Nowhere to run and hide. You can feel your clit grinding against the calloused pads of Joel’s thick fingers and it’s only a matter of time. Tears are falling freely now, and Joel pulls his hand away from your mouth to wipe them off your skin. “You’re fine,” he says. “You can take it.” 

Joel manages to pull the hood of your clit back a little, making it all that much more sensitive as he rolls his hips into you. Your desperate moans and your squirming beneath him fills him with amusement. He admires your determination, how exhausting this must be for you. 

It’s just a few seconds of Joel painting your clit with tight and steady circles as he thrusts into you repeatedly. Release is right around the corner, you know it and so does Joel. There’s an intense, fiery and electric pleasure building deep in your gut, threatening to spill over. You feel it trickling down your thighs, traveling up your spine and when you gasp sharply, Joel knows you’re coming. “There it is,” he praises. “Oh, there you are. Good girl, good girl. I know that feels good.” 

He fucks you through your orgasm and even well past its departure so that you’re not sure where your climax begins and ends. It’s an overwhelming feeling, the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt before, intensified by his sloppy and stuttering thrusts as he finds his own release. You sigh as you feel him empty himself into you, dick twitching against your walls, his hot come paints your insides and fills you with a deep and satisfying warmth. 

Joel slows down, then stills completely as you both catch your breath. He pulls out of you with a grunt, watching the mess of his come and yours spill onto the fabric beneath your body. He pushes it back inside you, then brings his fingers to your lips. When you suck his fingers clean of the spend, he kisses your temple and scoops you into his arms, trailing his fingers up and down your spine. He can feel your satisfaction in your limp body, the way you relax into him. Joel chooses not to tease you for losing the game. 

After quiet moments pass, Joel hears you giggling to yourself. “Hey, you,” he says. “What’s so funny?”

“Tommy Tick Dick,” you answer.

 Joel giggles with you, his eyes crinkling and sparkling with his laughter. “Oh, I’m goin’ to hell for that.” 

“What, for laughing? I’m laughing, too.”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’m the one who started callin’ him Tommy Tick Dick.” 

-

i'd like to share with you a poem written by @beefrobeefcal about this fic.

tick on his dick little nibbly friend chomping on down on tommy's bell end

If you enjoyed, please reblog/send me an ask/comment and tell me your thoughts! Your feedback keeps me motivated to write 🩷

[slvttyplum]

satoru loved having his dick sucked as much as the next guy; it was sensual, sexy, and all of the above. with that being said, you know he had to add some things to it when it came to that so that he could make it more fun, making it harder for you and more fun for him.

putting a hand around your neck while he pushes his hips into you, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat as you hold his legs for stability, he just had to make it harder for you and be a dick by doing so. squinting his eyes when he feels your throat squeeze around his dick, pulsing inside of you, his legs shaking from the pleasure that was shooting through him.

satoru knew that if he let you suck his dick the way you wanted to, he was going to cum in less than five minutes, and he hated finishing fast whenever he was inside your mouth. he wanted to save the warm, wet feeling and make you earn his cum, so he made you go through everything to slow it down, but it never worked.

the way you looked when you were on your knees, having your spit slowly drip down your chest to your cleavage, the shine from it making his dick ever harder, he couldn't help but thrust his hips into you so he could see it more. the gagging noises and your eyes going red as they water over, a pounding in your head, you keep taking his dick down your throat.

the uncomfortable feeling of him face-fucking you was all worth it when you felt his cum shoot down your throat, feeling his sticky warm load trickle down your throat as he continues, his stare dark as he pushes your head all the way down to the base of his dick.

"there you go. breathe through your nose, just like that." making sure you were breathing properly so that he could go harder; if you weren't gagging and had a wet face from how much you were crying, he wasn't satisfied.

looks were deceiving; from afar, people thought satoru was a nice guy who was just so soft and could do no wrong, but in the bedroom, he did a whole three sixty, very rough. there was no mercy for you; you were going to take every inch, even if he had to force you.

seeing you struggle was a turn-on for him. you were so confident in making him cum any other time, so when he finally put you in a bind, you were whimpering and choking, just the way he liked it. squeezing your throat anymore, making it tighter around his dick when he was finally ready to cum.

gag after gag and spit all over your wet cheeks, your pussy dripping from how good it felt to be used by him, the tight grip that he had on your throat turning you on, and him looking you straight in the eyes, trying to intimidate you but seeing them sparkle with every passing moment.

he knew how much you liked him shoving his dick down your throat; that's why he didn't care how hard he went. the wet spot that puddled on the floor with the wetness that dripped from your aching core spoke for itself.

a smirk on his face the first time he saw it, knowing he could keep going even when your eyes were rolling to the top of your head because your pussy will still be wet for him every single time.

the aftermath of his face fucking you out of your mind had him wanting to do it all over again with how you were looking.

"you look like you want to be fucked… you need that?"

[gremlingottoosilly]

Crybaby!Reader that gets mad and starts crying bc she thinks Slasher!Konig likes his victims more than her

Crybaby!Reader that clings to Slasher!Konig, every time he gets out of the basement, ready to find more victims to torture. You're just...not jealous exactly, but afraid that he is going to forget about you; find a more interesting toy to play with. Just leave you in the basement, alone and abandoned - just the thought of it makes you cry and cling to his leg even as he chained you to the wall. He laughs, this dry, low laugh of his - and murmurs something in German, probably commenting on how pathetic you look right now. He still scoops you in his hands like a kitten and presses a kiss to your forehead through his mask, promising he is just going to find you a few new playmates. Slasher!Konig is amused every time you get jealous and bitter about the new victim he brought home. They don't matter to him, not like you are - but he likes to feel your pussy clenching around him and your hands grasping his shoulders as you ride him, the anger fueling the movement of your hips. It's adorable how you're still trying to be a predator, a hunter - how you think you have real power over him. He is still covered in blood, fresh from murdering a group of tourists, but you think it's your strength that lets you push him to the bed and ride him like there is no tomorrow. He will put you in chains after, maybe fucking your ass for a good measure once he is done playing nice - you need a reminder why he likes your crybaby side much more than this new, confident one. Although your jealousy is hot to him. Crybaby!Reader that refuses to help him torture the other victims. You hate even looking at them, always searching for the ways they might be more desirable than you. Instead, you're trying to distract him, pushing your hands around his neck and begging him to just take you to bed instead of wasting his time. If Konig didn't know any better, he'd thought you were merciful towards the victims - but you just wanted his hands on you instead. Even if they are smeared with fresh blood. Slasher!Konig who is all too happy to indulge you. If you're coming to him, crying from having a new victim say she thinks Konig likes her better, he will out you on his lap, kissing all over your face. Hugging you, whispering just how much he values and appreciates you, and how much he wanted to finally show it. Kissed you like there was no tomorrow, smiled as you were babbling and crying - poor thing, your Stockholm syndrome, finally making you fall for your captor. And he is way too happy for being able to push his cock in your warm pussy and make you cockwarm him like the good girl you are.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + reader is wearing a skirt and tights

toji loves eating your ass from behind. and he especially loves doing it when you're standing and he's down on his knees – extra points if you're letting him do it somewhere public and if you're wearing a skirt or a dress; the muffled squeal you let out as he turns you around and guides you to lean against the wall is like music to his ears – he hears the slap of you slotting your hand over your mouth to conceal any other sounds that might escape from your lips and he can't help but grin to himself.

he bunches the material of your skirt or your dress up enough, so he can finally get a glimpse of your underwear and the groan he lets out makes your knees weak. he presses your thighs together, his mossy green eyes set on your ass; his lips darts out to wet his lips, his head flooded with every pose he could ever possibly put you in.

you feel his fingers skim over your skin and then gasp out loud, your hand falling from your mouth when toji rips a hole in your tights. he catches your gaze over your shoulder and flashes you a wolfish grin before sinking his teeth into your plush flesh. you screw your eyes shut and bit your own lip, the feeling of his sharp teeth sending mixed flashes of both pleasure and pain through your body.

you hear voices and footsteps somewhere behind the door and you hate how much doing this in public turns you on. and what makes it even worse, is that toji isn't even fucking you – he's the one down on his knees, frothing at the mouth because he simply couldn't wait until you two get home to get a taste. he's the one begging for it, he's at your mercy.

toji grabs at your ass cheeks and pulls them apart before placing a kiss to your awaiting hole through your underwear. and then he's already yanking them to the side and shoving his face into your ass as if that's where he belongs.

he shakes his head from side to side, his tongue pressed firmly against your hole as you try to contain your mewls. subconsciously, you push your hips back towards him and the act makes toji pull away, forcing another whine out of you at the lack of contact.

"greedy little thing, hm?"

he gives your ass a slap but it's far from anything strong and loud – despite his eagerness to have you in public, he does not want anybody to find you two like this. he acts all big but he's possessive like that – he wants to keep you all to himself. it's not often he wants to be greedy but he just can't help it when it comes to you. he guards you like a dog, always at your heel and ready to obey your every command, the ridiculousness of them irrelevant in his clouded mind. you're the one in power; you're the one with the leash, tugging on his heartstrings with a steady hand.

but still, every so often he crumbles at your touch and takes the risk of being bad – when he tugged on your hand, when he led you to the quiet little room away from everybody else, he knew he was acting out on nothing but his carnal desires. and yet, you let him.

face buried between your cheeks while you grind yourself against him, using him like he's your toy – it's like a dream come true. he moans into your skin, his tongue pressed deep inside your tight hole and the vibrations that run through your body make your eyes roll back inside your head.

while keeping one hand on your thigh, kneading the flesh with his big hands, he lets the other fall to his own crotch. he's so fucking hard.

toji palms himself through his pants, hissing sharply at the friction. as you rock yourself into him, his hand starts to move in tandem with you. it's a sight to behold – toji, the big grumpy man, now desperately bucking his hips into his hand as he fucks your ass with his tongue.

not a single one of your hushed little sounds goes unnoticed by his keen ears; he listens to your gasps and your whimpers, his mind set on memorizing them all.

your orgasm hits you sooner than you'd expect; the tight knot in your tummy unravels the second toji stops playing with himself and starts pulling your hips back against his face with so much force you fear that you'll both fall over. his mouth is so, so fucking warm and you can feel his spit running all the way down your legs, and with the way he keeps groaning into you as if he's nearing his own orgasm aswell makes it impossible for you not to let go.

toji holds you there as you shake and tremble, his grip on your thighs never faltering as he laps at your hole like the starved man that he is. this time, he will go easier – he really doesn't want anybody to see you like this, not while he's pleasuring you, not after. those looks are for his eyes only. so, he pulls away with a pop and leans back to admire his masterpiece as you pant and heave against the wall.

his heart does flips in his chest when you finally turn to him with a fucked out grin on your face. his heart gives out when you trace over his cheekbone and lean down to plant a kiss to his scarred lips.

when you whisper to him.

"good boy."

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[byeoltoyuki]

Yeah, I hate you too

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre: porn with little plot, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff, fake texts

❧ Words: +3k

❧ Warnings: fingering, sexting (kind of), anal, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, spanking, masturbation, mention of toys

❧Summary : They think you're dating. Wrong. How could you date someone you hate so badly? Right?

❧ A/N: I wrote this on a whim and definitely didn't have time to proofread it, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. Hope you enjoy it either way!

***

“Where’s Jisung?” Changbin asked as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the empty spot beside him. Empty spot because it took Jisung only five minutes to find something better to do than be with his friends.

You shrugged, indifferent. “How would I know?”

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

Now that was confusing. “I’m not.” You scoffed at the idea.

You barely tolerated each other. The only reason you had been cordial, at best, with him was because he was Felix’s friend. The said man shook his head which only fuelled your annoyance. “What?” You took a sip of your drink to try to drown your annoyance and uneasy feeling.

Felix shook his head but the smug smile remained. The little shit. “Nothing.”

“You have this look!” You pointed at his face as if he had personally offended you. Well maybe a little. Nobody should be allowed to look this pretty.

“What look?”

“Felix.”

“Y/N.”

God, you loved your friend, you really did but he knew how to annoy the hell out of you. “What.is.it?”

Felix’s eyes shone brightly. And with mischief. He leant closer, arm brushing yours. “It’s cute how you think I don’t know about you and Jisung.” And he winked. The audacity.

You gasped loudly. “I’m not dating him!”

It wasn’t your intention to say it so loud and attract Changbin’s attention back on you. He quirked a brow at you and also leant closer, obviously interested in your statement. Fuck.

Felix’s smirk only widened. “Never said anything about dating.”

Fine. You had lied. You had a situationship with Han Jisung. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he annoyed you eighty percent of the time. But he sure knew how to use his mouth. And tongue. And cock. He got you addicted and you hated him even more for that.

Before you could share a piece of your mind with Felix, your phone’s screen lit. It distracted you. So easily.

At his message, you almost dropped your phone. Count on Han Jisung to be this blunt. But then again, it probably was one of the reason you gave in so easily the first time he approached you.

His words alone brought back the same images you had been trying so hard to forget. Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes and still unforgettable. It was one of those nights; you were stressed with deadlines and loneliness was getting the best of you too. But then Jisung came to your place without notice, as if he owned the place, and disturbed all your plans at self-loathing. You tried of course to kick him out of your place, kicking and screaming – all he did was throw you over his shoulder and slap your ass strong enough to make you yelp in surprise. He brought you to your room and threw you on your bed. You weren’t even in the mood for sex, no matter how good it always was with him, but the look he had when he stared down at you set your body on fire.

Did he spend hours, or at least it felt like hours, nestled between your legs, feasting on you, marking you, teasing you till you were just a whimpering mess at his mercy, crying and writhing, begging for a release he wasn’t willing to give because you weren’t being nice to him. Absolutely. You hated how responsive your body was to him. Hated how he knew where to push, where to lick, where to suck, where to bite to make your toe curl, to bring tears to your eyes, to make you scream his name. He loved it, so bad, when you screamed his name.

When Jisung finally let you come, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t see and your body were spent. You didn’t think you would recover from such a powerful, mind-blowing orgasm. You told him so, knowing damn well how smug he would be, how pleased.

“What got into you?” You asked him, panting. You watched him remove his clothes, one by one, taking his sweet time. It was odd. He never took his time. Han Jisung was impatient and too eager ninety-five percent of the time. So why now?

Jisung’s smile turned wicked which set your alarms on alert. He was up to something. Something bad. And also probably incredibly delicious. But could you really do it? You tried to move your legs and winced.

Jisung crawled back on the bed, slowly, enjoying the view of your sweaty body, and all the marks he had left on your thighs. Such a beautiful woman and all for him to ravish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“And how is it my fault?” You scoffed and tried to sound unfazed. Your body disagreed. Your stomach flipped, excited.

Jisung hovered over you, his body trapping you under him, lips dangerously close yours but still not touching while his hand, his damn hand, slid slowly from your breasts to your stomach. Feather-like touches that sent shivers down your spine. But his hand didn’t stop on your stomach, it travelled to your abused, still incredibly sensitive pussy; your hips jerked in response and a small whine left your lips.

“No.” You tried to move your body to escape his touch.

But Jisung only smiled. “No? Hmm.” He teased your clit despite your protest and you grabbed his arms, digging your nails into his skin. “And it is your fault. I couldn’t erase the image of you flirting with this dude from the bar. He was awfully touchy with someone that isn’t his.” And he couldn’t resist the urge: he gave your pussy a slap. Strong enough to make you yelp in surprise, but not strong enough to hurt you.

You couldn’t believe he was being possessive. Was it the same guy you had been butting heads with for the past two years? Was it the same guy that begged you one night to let you eat you out because you looked too gorgeous in a red silky dress? “He wasn’t that touchy.” You tried to defend yourself even if he was right. He had been too touchy which had earnt him a kick in his balls later but Jisung didn’t need to know that. You wanted to see how far he was ready to go to show you who you belong to.

But Jisung saw right through you. With his free hand he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “Yeah? He touched this,” And his hand reached your ass. He gave it a strong squeeze before landing a first slap. You didn’t think you could get any wetter but you fucking did. “And this ass belongs to me, Y/N. You know it right?”

You were dying to say ‘no’, you didn’t belong to him and your ass certainly didn’t. But all your fire, all your protests died on your tongue when you felt his fingers dangerously close to your other hole.

“I believe this is the only place I haven’t claimed, right?” He hummed in satisfaction.

“Jisung,” You called for him, but why? You couldn’t tell whether you were scared to try something new or if you were excited. Probably both. “I-“

His fingers slid back to your dripping pussy. He gathered your juices and spread them around your other hole. He pushed a finger inside your ass and you gasped loudly. “Oh my god.” You mewled, shutting your eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. It felt weird and new. And so fucking good.

“I knew you would love it.” He chuckled. “Always knew you would let me completely defile you, wouldn’t you?”

And he added another finger, pushing slowly, filling you, stretching you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You couldn’t possibly survive this. But you definitely wanted it. “Yes.” You admitted.

Jisung chuckled as his fingers worked their magic. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck your pretty, little ass.”

“Please,” You begged.

He pulled out his fingers, leaving you empty and open. “And?”

You took a deep breath, realizing that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted unless you said those damn words. “Please Jisung, fuck my ass. I need it. Right. Now.”

Jisung snickered and flipped you with ease on your stomach. “Was it that hard?”

“Yes, asshole.” You managed to snap back.

Jisung only laughed at your weak attempt to fight back. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. “Such a nasty mouth.” He gave your ass another strong slap. “I’ll fuck it later too.”

‘As if!’ You wanted to say. But you felt his cock pressing to your hole. You sucked in a breath, tensing.

Jisung stroked your ass, trying to sooth you. “Relax, babe.”

Even if your mind wanted to fight him, your body obeyed.

He pushed slowly, inch by inch, struggling to control himself but despite his own needs, he kept a close eye on you, watching your every breath, your every wince. He wanted this experience to be enjoyable for you too and he knew you would love it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You didn’t think you could stretch anymore. You didn’t think you could ever feel this full. But it was exactly how you felt.

With one last thrust, he pushed all the way in. He groaned and closed his eyes to savour the feel of you around his cock. So tight, so nice, so pretty.

You fisted the sheets, needing something to hold on to. Or to destroy.

He pulled out slowly only to push back in. “Fuck babe, you feel so fucking good. So good I could die. Fuck.”

Jisung took his time with you, his thrust slow and as gentle as possible. It hurt and you squeezed the sheets tightly. But it also felt divine. Quickly, you found yourself wanting more, needing more, to relieve the itch. So you pushed back and he smiled in delight.

“Someone is excited.” He commented.

You were and you didn’t care anymore. “Show me what you can do, pretty boy.” You provoked him.

Jisung halted and hovered over your back. His warm breath caressed your cheek and then your ear. “Remember that you asked for it.” And he slammed hard into you, picking up his pace.

“Shit.” You moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

Jisung showed you no mercy. Every thrusts shattered and remade you. Every thrusts brought pleasure unknown to you. You didn’t think you could feel this good. You didn’t know if it had anything to do with Jisung and you didn’t care anymore. You took everything he gave you; every push of his cock, every groan, every dig of his fingers into your skin.

Jisung’s fingers slid to your clit and you almost collapsed at the new sensation. His thrusts along with his fingers playing with your clit brought you to the edge quicker and with so much strength. You barely registered when your body tensed and completely let go. You simply split apart with a sharp cry, waves of pleasure wrecking your body.

“Such a good girl.” Jisung didn’t stop. He used your body to seek his own climax. “And I can’t fucking get enough of you. I hate you for that.” But you barely heard him, still lost to your own pleasure. “Fuck, fuck.” Jisung came with a loud groan, pulling out to paint your ass with his release.

Fuck. You clenched your thighs tightly at the unwanted memory. You squeezed your phone tightly in your grip as if it had personally offended you. Your face flushed and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t supposed to get all horny in the middle of the bar. You weren’t supposed to let Jisung affect you so badly. But boy you were.

You tried to save yourself with this message. The bar wasn’t crowded and the lights were dimmed. There was no way he could see your state or your blush. Right?

Fuck. Your panties were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You were wet. Too fucking wet. You could ignore Jisung’s messages and suggestions, it was hella tempting since he was the one responsible for your state. Or you could leave and take care of your little problem without inviting him. That would piss him off and serve him right. You liked this plan better.

“I’m leaving.” You told Felix as you got back on your feet and readjusted your dress.

Felix eyed you with a cocked brow. “Why? You just go there.”

Something told you that whatever excuses you come out with, Felix wouldn’t believe you. Not when he was smirking like that. He knew something but you refused to delve into the matter. Nope. Not tonight. Not when your body was on fire. Not when your pussy was clenching desperately. “I’m tired.” You said and grabbed your bag.

“Tired.” Felix repeated your words with a poor imitation of your voice. “Sure thing, sweet. See you later.”

***

By the time you got to the safety of your home, your mind was plagued with images of Jisung between your legs. You couldn’t believe that your brain would think of him when you could have pictured anyone, anything. But you didn’t fight back those thoughts. You didn’t have time nor the will. Your body was too needy.

You took your heels and threw them somewhere on the ground. You hurried to get rid of your dress and your, now, completely ruined panties. I’ll make him pay another time. You threw yourself on your bed and readjusted your pillows to get as comfortable as possible.

A deep sigh of relief escaped your parted lips. Finally. You closed your eyes, Jisung’s face immediately invaded your thoughts and you let him. You let the image of him guide your hand to your breast and to your hard nipples that were begging for attention. You squeezed and pinched and let out small moans. You relaxed instantly, revelling in the different sensations.

You let your hand slid slowly from your breast to your stomach, drawing invisible circles on your skin before reaching between your legs, the place that most needed your attention. You took it slow; gentle rubs, circling your clit, letting the pleasure spread all over your body. Your fingers slipped inside your soaked pussy and you arched your back, imaging that it wasn’t your fingers but the most annoying person’s ones.

“Fuck.” You mewled.

“Now that’s a sight I’m not ready to ever forget.” Jisung’s annoying (sweet) voice interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes snapped open and you almost jolted out of your bed. “What the fuck?!”

No. He couldn’t possibly be there. How could he?  Were you that tired that somehow you started hallucinating? But no, as you looked at him standing by your door, licking his lips, his eyes darker than ever, you realized that he was not a piece of your imagination. “What, how?”

Jisung twirled the keys to your place and smirked. “Spare keys.”

You frowned, your dizzy mind having a hard time to catch up with his words. “I didn’t give you the spare keys to my place.”

Jisung nodded. “No. you didn’t.” He put them back in his pocket, proud of the effect he had on you. His eyes quickly slid to your spread legs and you realized too late that he had a perfect view of the mess you were. “Felix gave me the keys.”

The little shit! You knew he was up to something. You would make sure to make him pay later for not minding his damn business.

“Don’t be so angry, babe.” Jisung cooed, reading your emotions so easily. “Instead, show me how you play with yourself, hm?”

The ache between your legs returned so quick it almost knocked you out. This man and his voice had such a strong hold on you. You couldn’t help but obey and forget all about your annoyance.

“Tell me, what were you imagining while having your fingers inside this sweet pussy, hm?” Jisung asked as he watched your fingers disappear inside you. He licked his lips, drooling at the beautiful sight. He wanted nothing more than replace your fingers with his and with his tongue but for once, he fought his own needs. He grabbed the chair in the corner of your room at put it right before your bed so he could have the best view.

“You.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. “And what exactly was I doing in your imagination?”

“You were sucking on my clit with those pretty lips of yours while your fingers were stretching me nicely.”

“Shit.” Jisung groaned to himself. He could imagine it so easily. He unzipped his jeans and took out his hard cock dripping already with pre-cum. Jisung fell into rhythm with you, matching your energy as he worked his hand around his cock. “Add another finger.”

And you obeyed. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did once again. You moaned at the sight. You didn’t think watching Jisung touch himself would fuel your own desire, your own pleasure but it did. You almost came right on the spot.

But the itch was still there. No matter how hard you played with yourself you were still unsatisfied. You couldn’t reach as deep as he could. “Jisung. Please. I need you.”

Jisung chuckled. “Do you now? I think you’re doing pretty well on your own.” But truth was, he needed you too. So fucking badly. He needed, desperately, to sink his cock inside your pussy. He needed to feel your walls around his cock, squeezing him, begging for more.

“Am not. I need you. Please.” You begged shamelessly. You took out your fingers and spread your pussy for him to see. “Look. I need you.”

Jisung gulped, his willpower slowly crumbling. How could he resist now? “Me? Or my cock?”

“Both. Please?”

Jisung ruffled his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He left his spot, hurried to take all of his clothes and almost jumped on your bed. He grabbed your legs with so much strength, you yelped in surprise. He spread you wider for him. He let his fingers slid from your clit to your entrance, testing how wet you were. “Babe, you’re dripping. All for me?”

“All for you.”

“So pretty.” He took his cock and nudged it playfully against your pussy, making you mewl and push your hips in need. “And mine.” He plunged inside you with one powerful thrust that made the two of you groan.

You closed your eyes, feeling all of him. Hard and deep inside you. And so damn perfect. A part of you didn’t want it to feel so good but the one that didn’t care, savoured the stretch, the fullness.

“Y/N, I think I’m in love.” Jisung confessed as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, torturing you with how slow and gentle he was. You didn’t want slow. You didn’t want gentle. Not when you were so consumed with need and lust. You wanted him to wreck you.

“With me or my pussy?” You managed to joke and chocked when he slammed back. “Fuck.” You arched your back. He sure knew how to make you shut your mouth.

Jisung didn’t answer your question and you forgot all about it as he started thrusting. Just like you hoped and prayed. Hard. Deep. Making you hold your sheets tightly as you met his thrusts with your own.

“Harder.” You begged unable to think about anything else but him and his cock deep inside you.

“As you wish.” His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your skin that would leave marks – you didn’t care. You let him use you as he saw fit. You let him pound into you.

The sound of his grunts, of your moans and slap of skin was slowly driving you mad. The rhythm he set got you writhing and begging for release in no time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you, feeling his body crashing you under him, as you claimed his mouth in a desperate and needy kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth, damn proud of your state.

“I hate you.” You bit on his lips and he fought back with a powerful thrust. “So fucking,” And another. “Much.” And another.

Jisung kissed you back with as much needs. He was just as desperate for release as you were and so damn close. He tried to distract himself, to keep his control. He needed you to come. Right fucking now. One hand slipped between your bodies and he played with your clit as he kept pounding into you. Pinching it. Rubbing it. He left you no choice. He pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck!” Your back arched as your orgasm slammed into you. Your whole body shuddering as Jisung didn’t stop. He fucked you through your release, not slowing down even for a second. And you held onto him, strong and tight, and watched as he lost himself to his own pleasure. You watched him close his eyes as he slammed one last time and released himself.

Jisung slowly pulled out of you and took a second to admire his work. Your fucked up face. Your sweaty body. Your abused, dripping pussy. “Bloody hell. So damn beautiful.” He couldn’t stop himself from pushing back his fingers into your sensitive pussy to push back his cum inside you.

“Don’t. I can’t.” You begged and wriggled, trying to escape his dangerous fingers. You were completely and utterly spent. You couldn’t take more. But telling this to Jisung wasn’t your brightest idea. It only fuelled him more.

“But you look so pretty and yummy. How can a man resist?” And he brought his fingers to his mouth. Covered with both his and yours release. You gawked at him at you swore your pussy clenched again with need at the sight. He cleaned his fingers, humming in satisfaction.

“By the way,” He rolled to the side and pulled your body flushed against him. “I think I’m in love with both.” He admitted and kissed your head. “You and your pussy.”

You couldn’t believe him. He sure knew how to woo a woman. “Such a romantic.”

Jisung smiled sheepishly at you. “Isn’t it why you like me?”

“Tolerate you at best.” But you hid your face into his chest, refusing to show him your pink cheeks or the smile that spread on your face.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did. But we can do it again.” Jisung was in a mood. “So I can show you just how much I love you. And how much you love me too.”

Yeah. You liked the sound of it.

[boringkate]

wow it'd suck being an actually trans person if more people transitioned for fetish reasons. it'd give people the impression that most people transition for fetish reasons. and it gives precedent to outlaw it as a sexual fetish thing, not a real condition.

What is (to you) an "actually trans person"? Someone with an incurable immutable medical condition? Someone that should be allowed to transition (an act so extreme and degenerate that no healthy person should ever be allowed to engage in it) only out of pity because they're too mentally or physically sick and weak to bare existence any other way?

The fascists that hate perverts hate you too. They want to crush you under their boot and then scrape the viscera off like they just stepped in dog shit. There's no appeasing them. You can't make them love you by being a good chaste respectable humble little white supremacist christian transsexual.

What else shouldn't people be allowed to do for sexual reasons? What should they be allowed to do for sexual reasons? Should people not be gay for sexual reasons? Or straight for sexual reasons?

Every one of us is here because our parents and our parent's parents were perverts who fucked and bred. Your great great grand mother got dicked down raw and nutted in and with any luck she enjoyed it. We're all perverts. And that's fine! There's no shame in it. No one is better than you and you're no better than anyone else.

Men and women aren't innately different. Gender isn't sacred. It doesn't need to be protected. Don't concede anything just for the chance to beg for mercy.

If trans liberation is going to be worth having then it has to be rooted in the idea that transness is both beautiful and mundane. Transitioning is no big deal. It's not regrettable. People can choose to transition for any reason (or no reason at all) and them doing so is something to celebrate.

[froggiewrites]

Wanting

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You have never wanted anyone more than you want Sanji. You don't want to admit it, but as you end up alone together on a new island, the universe seems determined to make you. Warnings: Smut, There Was Only One Bed, Possessiveness (a bit from both Sanji and Reader), Reader really matching Sanji's energy on the horniness here Word Count: 5.6k Crossposted from Ao3

You had never wanted anyone more than you had wanted Sanji.

You hated to admit that tragic, embarrassing fact, but it was true all the same. You wanted him. You had always known you’d liked Sanji, from the moment you met and he threw himself at your feet, knew you found him endearing and silly, but wanting him? That was different. Wanting was real. Wanting was demanding. Wanting had you pacing the deck after yet another dirty dream about your silly little cook, trying to calm down enough to be able to face him at breakfast.

Your bare feet hit the grass of the Sunny’s deck as you pray that this will pass, that you’ll be able to see your dear friend without yearning for him so deeply it threatens to rip a hole in your chest, but every time you close your eyes you can still feel his lips against yours and see his face twisted in pleasure. You huff with frustration, throwing yourself down to lay on your back and stare at the sky. Maybe the morning sun will burn out your retinas and you won’t have to worry about seeing his face at all anymore.

“You alright down there?” His voice is still raspy from sleep, and your eyes shoot open as you use all the willpower you have not to rub your thighs together.

“Sanji!” Your voice is an octave higher than you would have liked to admit. “Hi! Good morning! Um, yeah. I’m uh–I’m fine. Peachy.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about his hands reaching down to grab you. Don’t think about how his dick would feel in your mouth.

Fuck. Damnit.

“Are you sure? You’re a little red.” You finally look up to see his face, his hair a little mussed and his eyes softened with concern. You want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him.

“I’m okay, I’m just, uh. A little hot. That’s all.” You focus anywhere but his eyes, those beautiful kind eyes, because you know if you focus on his eyes you’ll do something you’ll regret. Or maybe you wouldn’t regret it at all, because you’d finally know what his lips feel like.

No. Not now. Not ever. You are not all hot and bothered over Sanji. Not your dear friend Sanji, who is looking at you with so much care it makes you physically ache.

“Do you want to come inside? I can make you something to cool you down.”

You picture being alone together in the kitchen, his practiced hands and talented fingers moving with such purpose as he slices and dices, just to make something to please you. You picture those fingers moving with a different purpose, working for a different pleasure. If you go in that kitchen you fear you’ll do something you can’t take back. “I’m alright! I just need to lay here.” Your voice definitely just audibly cracked.

His face falls a little at the idea that you won’t come with him. You try not to let your heart flutter at the idea he wants you around. That he wants you alone with him. “Alright, well come on in if you change your mind, okay? I’ll do–make. I’ll make anything you want.”

What was that?

Your imagination, surely.

“Of course, Sanji. I’ll let you know if I need you–anything.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a moment before he turns and walks into the kitchen without even a goodbye, and if you didn’t know better you would think the tips of his ears were red. Surely not, though.

You cover your face and groan, rolling onto your front to block out the world. You hear sets of footsteps pass as your other crewmates wake up and decide to leave you to your misery instead of asking. A small mercy, but one you’re grateful for.

Once you finally manage to drag yourself off of the ground, your thoughts filled with simple, unsexy things like cold showers and paint drying, you make your way to the kitchen for breakfast. You come in only on the tail end of the meal and conversation, hearing Nami’s voice dictating how things are going to go on the next island.

“—need to make sure we aren’t separated. There’s an island-wide curfew, and we need to make sure that none of us break it. We don’t want to risk drawing attention to ourselves.” You can’t see her face but you are familiar with the scathing side-eye she’s almost certainly giving Zoro and Luffy right now.

“Why are you looking at me?” Zoro’s voice is defensive in the way it only gets when he knows whatever he’s being accused of is inarguably true.

Nami sighs. “It’s too early for this. Anyway, we’re going to pair up to make sure no one gets stranded alone on the island just in case we miss curfew. I wrote all of our names on pieces of paper, and I’m going to draw–”

“Why do you get to draw?”

“Yeah I wanna draw! I’m the captain!”

“It doesn’t matter who–”

You tune them out for your sanity as you retrieve your plate from Sanji’s outstretched hands. He gives you a soft, sincere smile that cuts to your core. He looks so wonderful like that, when he isn’t trying to woo you and he’s just being…Sanji.

“I kept it warm for you.” He leans closer so you can hear him over the din of voices behind you. Your eyes are level with his chest, his shirt unbuttoned halfway so you can see his entire torso. You need to look away. You need to stop ogling.

You don’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur distractedly. You don’t know if you’re thanking him for the breakfast or for the clear view of his happy trail.

His chest gets closer, and you feel his warm breath against your ear. “Of course. Anything for you.” He’s so close. You could so easily put your lips against his neck. You could bite him right now, make him make such wonderful noises right here in front of everyone.

“Hey, are you two even listening?” Nami’s annoyed voice rings out from the table behind you.

You both stand at attention like navy soldiers the moment she calls for you. Her tone means business. That silly argument earlier seems like it soured her mood for the entire day.

“Of course, Nami!” Your tone rings false, and she gives you a dour look that you shrink under.

“Ugh. Whatever. Important bits: we’re staying paired up on this island. Be back before dark. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”

“Yes, Nami!” You both chorus.

“Great. I’ll start pulling names.”

Your captain pouts. “But I–”

“I’m pulling names.”

“Awww.”

The pairs came quickly: Brook and Usopp, Franky and Robin, Luffy and Chopper, and Nami and Zoro (to Sanji’s audible displeasure). You laugh along with everyone else for just a moment at Sanji’s fit before you realize what it means.

“God, if it pisses you off that much then just switch partners with me!” Zoro’s voice is filled with annoyance, his eye turning to you.

Sanji pauses for a moment, his eyes finding yours, and you can see pure and utter euphoria hit him when he realizes. The fury at Zoro’s suggestion hits a moment after. “No way in hell, mosshead!”

The bickering continues, as it always does, and you try to calm your thoughts once again. A day alone with him. A date, perhaps. You imagine at first walking hand in hand while shopping, stopping in a cafe to enjoy together, and other simple domestic things that make a small lovesick smile make its way onto your face.

And then you remember your dream, hear his lovely voice cry out in a broken whine, and your silly daydreams turn to dark alleys and frantic, fumbling hands taking what they need before you’re caught. You imagine getting to run your hands down his torso, following the teasing trail of hair you saw earlier down, wrapping your hands around him and making him whimper.

You stop your thoughts because you are in front of an audience and are going to lose your sanity if you allow yourself another moment of this.

Sanji and Zoro have stopped fighting, and the crew is pairing off as everyone decides their tasks for today. Zoro has been designated Nami’s shopping bag holder, and his protests fall on deaf ears as the conversations continue without him. You and Sanji will be grocery shopping, of course. He has the list ready to go, which means all you need to do is keep him company and try not to get jealous when he inevitably hits on a stranger. You can do that, grit your teeth and give tight-lipped smiles that hopefully hide the taste of iron on your tongue. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll reject him, refuse to give him the time of day, and he’ll turn to you as he licks his wounds. He’ll find comfort in you, and you’ll gladly give it. You can ease the sting of rejection as he eases the yearning ache in your chest.

As the crew moves to leave the kitchen, Zoro begins to lean over to you, presumably to make some gruff joke about how miserable your day will be with Sanji, wearing a smug grin hiding the boyish amusement he gets from teasing the man he would never admit is his friend. Before you can hear it, give him a soft laugh and a roll of the eyes, your vision is filled with the soft blue of a slightly unbuttoned shirt and there’s a large, gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I said hands off, mosshead.” Sanji’s voice holds more hostility than you’d expect. Most days even their worst of fights have an air of levity to them that they would never admit, but this has real anger behind it, venom spitting from his lips in a way you had never heard. The hand on your back presses firmly, commandingly, in a way that makes your knees weak. “Let’s go, angel.” His voice softens, then, not filled with the candied sweetness he saves for his usual flirtations, but the type of tender sincerity and affection saved only for a small inner circle you are forever grateful to be a part of.

“What, I can’t talk to her? Possessive pervert.” There’s less anger behind Zoro’s words and more confusion, but you can hardly hear it as the door slams firmly shut behind you. Sanji’s breathing is labored with anger, his shoulders drawn tight, but you hardly notice over the feeling of his fingertips on your back, brushing just above your ass, so close to moving lower. His hand moves to your hip instead, grabbing firmly, not enough to bruise but enough that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to.

“Sanji? Are you alright?” Your voice is hesitant as you try to keep the lust out of it, but he seems to take it as discomfort. His eyes widen, his hand immediately leaving you, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the loss. He, of course, takes this as pain.

“Oh god, darling did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I–”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sanji, I’m fine. I was just worried about you.” You give him a reassuring smile, teeth only slightly clenched from concentrating on anything other than how strong he felt, on how good it felt to be held, on the feeling that his fingerprints have been burned onto your skin even though the fabric of your shirt.

His face is troubled, his eyes watery from even the idea of hurting you, but he relaxes when you take his hand in yours, gently rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’m fine. I just can’t stand the idea of you running off with mosshead and him getting you lost. He’d probably leave you alone in the woods somewhere.” The words ring falsely in your ears. He hates to admit it, but he trusts Zoro to protect you, no matter the situation. The safety of the crew is one of the few things they’ll always agree on. He does not and would never think Zoro would leave you for dead.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Sanji goes quiet, unable to bring himself to disagree, to lie to your face a second time. What was he thinking? “Yeah, I…I know.” His voice is weak and strained, but before you can pry further he starts to walk ahead, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket, clearly shutting down the conversation. You stare longingly at his back for a moment, at his broad shoulders, before following in his footsteps.

Shopping is tense, at first, as he tries and fails to calm down, but you eventually find a rhythm. You both fall into each other, a brush of the hands here, a hand on the arm there, the pull so magnetic you cannot help but follow it. Eventually you find yourselves walking hip to hip, you holding his arm, pressing it to your chest incredibly deliberately as he tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t notice. He keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you revel in the attention, preening under his wanting gaze. Your thoughts are about nothing but him, nothing but his shining blue eyes lingering on your chest, nothing but the hard stops he keeps making so your tits press even harder into his bicep.

He’s looking at you. God, he’s looking at you, no one else. Your chest tightens at the idea it could always be like this, that he could be yours.

Neither of you notice how late it’s gotten until the sun is already more than halfway behind the horizon. You’re reluctant to break the tension as he pulls you closer when you walk past a group of rowdy drunks, but you remember Nami’s warnings and your blood runs a little cold.

“Um, Sanji? Do you know what time it is?”

He checks his watch with no sense of urgency, clearly not grasping the situation. “It’s almost nine, why?”

“Curfew is at nine thirty, isn’t it? And the ship is…” you think for a moment, “about an hour away?”

He stops in his tracks, causing your chest to press against him again. “Ah.”

A beat of silence.

“Nami’s going to kill us.”

“I think you’re right.”

“The marines will notice us if we’re out past curfew.”

“Right again, my dear.”

“We’re fucked.”

“Mhm.”

More silence, stretching further and further as reality sinks in.

“I…guess we should find somewhere to stay?” Your voice is a little meek.

“I guess so.” He tries to keep his tone even, but there’s something almost mischievous behind it, something you can’t place. The ends of his lips twitch into an almost smile before he stops it. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you pray it’s something perverted. Maybe today he’ll get brave and act on it and you’ll have an excuse to throw yourself at him, give into the feeling you’ve been fighting all day.

You both attempt to find an inn with two open rooms, but the first three are fully booked with drunks who have beaten you to it. The curfew inches ever closer, and you still have nowhere to stay. If you stay on the street and get caught by the marines, you know Nami will kick your ass for alerting them to your presence. She probably already will for how long you’re delaying your journey. You focus on Sanji’s arm resting around your shoulders to ground yourself and ignore the dread creeping in and settling in your bones.

You finally find an inn that will take you, but you immediately run into a problem. Or what you’ll pretend is a problem.

“Please tell me you have availability.” Sanji’s voice is tinged with desperation as the clock ticks down.

 The woman working the desk seems exhausted, having clearly dealt with much worse customers than yourself earlier. “Is a queen bed okay?”

“A queen bed, like singular?” You put on a good show of acting confused and a little upset, hiding your giddiness well.

“Oh, are you two not–” Her eyes are lingering on where you’re connected, your arms wrapped around his. “I’m sorry, I assumed–well. Um. We only have one room left, I assumed you would want to share it.”

“One room?” Sanji’s voice gets a little loud, and a stranger would mistake this for anger or upset, but you can hear excitement in his tone. He glances at you again, at your face, at your chest, at your legs, admiring you for just a moment, certainly imagining something that would make you flush. “Only one room?”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. We really only have one. If that doesn’t work–”

“It works.” You both speak quickly. You pretend you don’t see him visibly fist pump when he thinks you aren’t looking. He pretends he doesn’t see you excitedly rock on your feet, a visible twinkle in your eye. The woman hands you a set of keys, and you’re both off.

As you walk to the room, you talk around it, pretending you both aren’t absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. 

“I can’t believe they only have one room. I know it’s busy, but this place is massive. It’s hard to believe it’s fully booked.” You try to sound annoyed, but a giggle makes its way into your voice as you imagine being tucked into the single bed with Sanji’s arms around you.

“It’s ridiculous. And with only a queen bed? Not even two twins? Or a king? It’s the most inconvenient it possibly could be.” He can’t fight his smile when he says only a queen, as he imagines both of you having nowhere to run except into each other. He could cry at the idea of having an excuse to hold you close, to feel you pressed against him with your head resting on his chest. It’s so domestic he could pretend it was real.

You both perfectly match each other’s steps in this liar’s dance even when the door closes, even when there’s not a single person to call you on it but each other. You cannot admit that you want this, out of fear that it might shatter the feeling of giddy excitement surrounding you both. You cannot put to words what is happening, lest you make it real. Real has worries attached to it, questions of the future and what this all means and what it changes. If you stay quiet you stay in the dream, where instead the only thing you have to think about is the pounding of your heart and the comforting heat of another next to you.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says, visibly upset by the idea. He has to offer you the choice, he is a gentleman, but his eyes are pleading for you to deny the idea and welcome him into your bed.

“Don’t be silly, Sanji. You don’t need to ruin your back, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You leave out the internal pleading for him to come closer as soon as humanly possible. He can’t know how you may be even more desperate for him than he is for you.

“You’re an angel, my dear.” His smile now is genuinely affectionate, filled with a fondness that makes your chest ache. He looks younger like this, unburdened. “Well, let’s not wait, hm? I bet you’re exhausted.” His hands reach for the buttons of his shirt, and you watch, enraptured, as he slowly undoes each of them, revealing more and more of his body to you. You’ve seen it before, due to his favor for open silly Hawaiian shirts, but you can’t help but swallow at the sight, eyes never daring to look away. He’s so beautiful. He’s so strong.

You wonder if he could break you.

You wonder if you could break him.

He slips the shirt off easily, his hands moving down to his belt, the clink of the buckle sending a shiver down your spine and breaking you out of your trance. You can’t let him undress while you stay fully clothed. It’s rude. You let your hands slide down to the hem of your shirt, swiftly removing it, and he stops in the middle of unbuttoning his pants to stare, jaw slacked. You can see him grow hard at the sight of your chest as his eyes bore holes into you. His gaze is burning, his pupils blown out, his breathing growing heavy.

“Sanji?” You reluctantly call out to break the spell, not wanting your masquerade to end quite this soon.

“Yes? What is tit–it?” His eyes haven’t moved a centimeter, honed in on where your breasts spill over your bra.

“You’re staring.” You keep your tone teasing. His eyes finally trail up to your face, where he finds a twitching smile as you try to hold back your giggles. His expression shifts from lustful to lovestruck as his eyes soften and his smile widens.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, breathlessly.

“So are you.” His smile widens further as he finally looks away from you, suddenly bashful. His cheeks are flushed slightly pink, and you finally break and huff out a laugh. It isn’t seeing you half naked that gets him, or the idea of sharing a bed, or the lustful thoughts he’s certainly been having all day. It’s a simple compliment, not even a particularly good one, that flusters your dear cook. It makes you want to take his face in your hands and place kisses all over it, with a tenderness that would make its way under his skin, marking him as well and truly loved. It makes you want to drop to your knees and worship him, take him into your mouth and not stop until he’s utterly spent and crying from the overstimulation. It makes you want him, in every meaning of the word.

But you don’t want to break the illusion yet, still a little nervous about being the first to step over the line, so instead you slide your thumbs beneath the waistband of your jeans and quickly step out of them. You make your way to the bed, making a show of throwing yourself onto your back, bouncing a little as his eyes eagerly take in the movement of your breasts, your thighs, every inch of you. After allowing him a moment to admire, you shift to pull the blankets over yourself, tucking yourself in. You’re going to play your part. But you’re allowed a moment of fun. You look up at him, doe eyes blinking and arms outstretched welcomingly. “Sanji, aren’t you coming to bed?”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes turning to your face, and in that moment you swear you can see into his head. You see dreams of the two of you intertwined, not sexually, but just…together. You see his head resting against your chest, eyes closed in absolute bliss. You see the soft sunlight of the morning bathing you both in gold, warming you to your bones. You see a different scene, the two of you in a more intimate embrace, bodies pressing closer than you thought possible, hips moving and hands everywhere, a tender moment that almost feels like worship. You see an entire life together, every little moment, and you see Sanji’s eyes fill with tears at the idea of it.

He rips his pants off, practically diving into the bed with you, and his arms wrap around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into your chest, nosing between your breasts, and somehow still keeping up this silly ruse, he mumbles, “This bed’s pretty small. Guess we’ll have to get even closer.” He pulls you tighter, and you’re almost sure he can’t breathe from how much he’s pressed his nose into your skin. You giggle, and you can feel him smile against you. He places a kiss right against your sternum, gentle and affectionate, before pressing one up slightly higher, then one higher than that, as he makes his way up to your neck. His facial hair rubs against your skin, the ticklish feeling making you laugh even more. He places one final kiss where your jaw meets your neck before pulling up to whisper in your ear. “Can I please kiss you? I think I’ll die if I don’t.”

“Please do,” you whine out. He doesn’t wait another moment before your lips crash together, teeth briefly clacking together in his excitement before it softens into something more tender and intimate. He groans softly into your mouth, lips parting, welcoming you in. You gladly accept, and he fully pins you beneath him and you explore each other’s mouths.

His hands slide underneath you, one pulling you upward into him as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra. The moment it releases, he swiftly tosses it behind him, breaking your kiss to stare at your chest. His mouth is slightly agape as he pants, eyes wide, taking in the sight. He looks as though he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches out as he takes in every inch of your breasts, before he eventually reaches a shaking hand out to brush his fingers against your skin. He lets out a quiet breath of awe. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. A goddess. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Sanji. This is a dream come true.” Your voice is quiet with the vulnerable admission, and his eyes leave your chest to meet yours.

“You dreamed of this?” He sounds like he really truly can’t fathom the idea.

“Dozens of times. Almost every dream I have is about you. Last night I–” You stop yourself in embarrassment, face flushing.

He leans closer with an intensity he usually saves for battle. “Last night? You dreamed about me last night?” His eyes are boring into you, stripping you bare, staring straight into your heart and soul.

“Yes,” you softly admit. “I dreamed about you last night. About this. The real thing is so much better.”

“Oh god,” he breaths out, before he kisses you again, hard and fast. His hands envelop your tits, groping and squeezing. You can’t stop yourself from keening into his mouth when his fingers brush against your nipples, and you can feel him grind against you when he hears. His hardness presses against your bare thighs, showing how badly he wants you. He grabs at you like you’ll disappear between his fingers, fade away like all of the dreams that have been haunting you.

Another pinch at your nipples makes you cry out, and you pull back, begging, “Sanji, please, more!” You want to feel his fingers inside you, his tongue, his cock. Any and everything he could give you you want, and you feel so sure that he would gladly let you take it. He would give you the heart out of his chest if you asked.

He moans as his bulge rubs against your thighs again. “Fuck, of course, angel. Whatever you want.” He slides lower, and you feel his fingers slide along the fabric covering your slit. He carefully traces a path up to your clit, lightly pressing against it through your panties, making you suck in a breath. His eyes travel between your face and his fingers, taking note of your reactions.

He eventually slides off your panties, letting out a soft noise of appreciation once he’s able to see all of you. He leans closer, mumbling something you don’t quite catch, before his mouth is on you.

“Ah, Sanji!” You cry out in surprise, your thighs clenching together, and you can feel him moan against you at the pressure. His tongue moves expertly, which you suppose makes sense; Sanji is a man who knows how to appreciate a good meal. His hands reach up to grip your thighs, not to pull them apart, but to pull you even closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he dives further into you. His nose brushes your clit, making you keen again, and you can feel him smile against your cunt. 

You feel a familiar tension building in your gut as his tongue shifts to your clit and he inserts a finger, then two, then three inside of you, curling in a come hither motion that makes you see stars. You get noisier and noisier as the coil tightens, and Sanji only grows more enthusiastic with every moan and cry he manages to pull from you. His hips are grinding desperately against the mattress beneath you. Your thighs continue to tighten around his head, and you worry you’ll crush him, but you imagine that’s the way he’d want to go.

With one final flick of Sanji’s tongue and push of his fingers, you come unraveled around him, nearly screaming his name as you’re hit with white-hot pleasure. His fingers work you through it, only stopping when your thighs go slack around him and you let out a soft whimper. He crawls up to see your face, to see the evidence of his work, and you can see he’s absolutely covered in your wetness, his facial hair soaked in you. His pupils are blown out, his eyes nearly entirely black and looking nearly maddened with lust. He kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

“Please, please let me feel you. I need to feel you around me. Please.” His voice is ragged as he pants, a whine behind it as he begs to fuck you.

“Please,” you whimper back.

His fingers hook below the waistband of his boxers, and he slides out of them slowly. His cock stands proudly, long and thick, leaking precum. He gives you no time to admire it, swiftly lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself into you, moaning into your ear at the feeling.

“Darling, you feel heavenly,” he groans. He sits still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and just enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him. “I could never have imagined how perfect you are. The dreams never did you justice.” You try to move your hips, but his hands are holding you still. You let out a whine, pathetic and wanton, and his lips tug into a smile. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

He pulls himself out slowly, before reentering a little faster, the next time a little faster than that, increasing his speed bit by bit until he’s relentlessly pounding you into the mattress. He mumbles endless praise for you that gets lost between his moans, only allowing you to make out princess and tight and perfect. The room is filled with these small praises and the sound of slapping skin. You lean up to kiss him, but he doesn’t let you, instead staring intensely into your eyes, determined to see your face when you cum.

He watches your face as your orgasm grows closer, his hips speeding up and his fingers reaching for your clit. His gaze is loving, admiring, nearly worshiping, and his words at some point turn into a prayer: for you, for him, for what you’ve created here in this room to last long after the door opens and you return back to a life where this becomes real. Your orgasm hits you harshly, making you cry out, and he watches enraptured as you come apart around him. He tries to keep his pace steady, but his hips stutter as he cums inside of you, filling you with warmth.

He stays like that, cock inside of you, eyes locked onto yours. The only sound in the room is your heaving breaths, the only sensation either of you feel is the warmth of the other grounding you here.

“I think I love you,” he murmurs. “Can I say that? Can I make it real?”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his head to your chest, cradling him there. “Please do. I want it to be real. I want you. I love you.”

He adjusts, pulling out of you, crawling up slightly to fully make his home in your chest. His shoulders shake, and you hear a sniffle. You don’t say anything, simply running your hands gently through his hair, across his cheeks, down his back.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He nuzzles his face even deeper into you.

“I think I’ve wanted you just as long, even if I didn’t realize it.”

“I adore you.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you think maybe this confession is deeper and more difficult than his first. 

“I adore you too, Sanji. You’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

You sit there, basking in each other’s presence, enjoying a world where this gets to be real. You drift off to sleep peacefully, with the reassurance that when you wake this won’t just have been another troubling dream. Nothing is more real and grounding than his arms wrapped around you, his leg thrown over you, his lips still lightly pressed against your skin. You know you’ll see him tomorrow, shining brilliantly in the sun, and walk back hand in hand. You still dream of him, but the lovesick smile he gives you when you open your eyes is better than any dream you’ve ever had.