#gratuitous pie

[flawssy-227]

synopsis: Joel finds you corn. yup.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18++, Jackson!Joel, unspecified age gap, afab!reader, pinv, oral f!receiving, cream pie (not sorry), gratuitous use of the word baby.... think that's it

A/N: been working on this one for a minute... I know there was technically popcorn (or something) in Jackson's movie theater but whatever. sorry if the smut feels rushed, I'm trying to get better at it. as always -- I am a woman of color, so I write with women of color in mind, but reader is not described physically beyond having breasts. pls enjoy!

Like everyone in Jackson, you had your own way of contributing to the community. The garden was here before you had arrived years before, but everyone in Jackson knew it was under your tutelage that it really thrived. It was because of you The Tipsy Bison added fresh herbs to the weekly dinners that fed the town. It was because of you Jackson had fresh fruits and vegetables, things many of the residents went years without. And it was because of you they had enough grain to feed the animals. You were, in short, an absolute godsend, and Joel couldn’t believe he was yours.

He wasn’t much of a cook before the world went to shit, but he never knew how much he would miss the little things. Like lettuce. Or blueberries. Fruits and veggies. Dammit his mama would probably laugh at him now for how often he craved something fresh and healthy and not prepackaged. And it was all because of you.

Your contributions to Jackson were well known. You were a bit of a celebrity in town. A sweet, nurturing angel that Joel somehow wooed when he arrived a year ago.

It was a few months ago, you and Joel were getting ready at the crack of dawn for your respective shifts. His 8 hour patrol across the gates, and yours in the community garden. He kept stealing kisses after your morning quickie, which honestly, wasn’t that quick, he distracted you endlessly and made you both late for work.

“Joel,” you sighed, attempting to remove his wandering hand from inside your shirt. “Maria’s gonna kick your ass if you’re late for patrol—again.”

“Mm, not worried about that,” he offered smugly while reluctantly releasing his grip from your chest. You shivered a bit at the loss of warmth.

“I thought about what you asked me last night.”

Joel looked at you while you continued to button your shirt. “Yeah?”

Last night, in your post orgasm glow, you and Joel piggy backed random questions to each other. With a sheet wrapped around your chest you turned to face him.

“Maraschino cherries? Yuck.”

Joel laughed, “I love ‘em. Tommy does too. It’s perfect on a sundae, trust me, darlin’.”

“Don’t tell me you love Shirley Temple’s too.”

Joel’s eyes bulged open just a bit, and he didn’t have to say a thing before you started laughing, body pressing further into his. “Joel Miller, you are full of surprises.” 

He smiled at you, lines around his eyes deepening just enough so you knew it was sincere. “Alright,” he started, “I got another one for you.”

You nodded eagerly, trying to suppress a yawn in the late hour.

“If you could have one addition to your garden, something you can’t grow currently, what would it be?”

You leaned across his chest now, head propped on your folded arms as you furrowed your brows. It was a good question, what would you want? You had gotten out of the habit of wanting more in this life. You were incredibly lucky here in Jackson. You were safe behind the walls, you had a home and friends and a boyfriend, and you were never worried about where your next meal came from. Sure, you could definitely have more… Second helpings at the food hall would be nice. Something other than grain liquor when you wanted to kick back sounded good. And well, if you were being really greedy you guess you would ask for a cure for the hellish epidemic that ravaged the world. But you had plenty, and asking for more just seemed wrong.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” It was meant to be lighthearted, but the question sat heavy on your heart. “We have so much. Feels wrong to wish for more, you know?”

Joel took a sharp inhale and nodded his head. Eyes glassy just a touch, such a small amount that only you would notice this close up. He ran a hand through your hair, softly easing you. “I know, darlin’. I guess I was asking in case I come across something on patrol. Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded back, and peppered a small kiss against his lips as you settled further into his chest, effectively ending all questions for the night.

“Yeah… if you could find it,” you eyed your boyfriend, trying to feign nonchalance at your impending request. “I would really like some corn.”

“Corn?” Joel questioned. “If there’s one thing I can find you out on patrol for you, it’s corn? Darlin’ that is not what I expected you to say.”

You chuckled at that. “Ugh, Joel, I miss it so much. Sweet corn on the grill during summer,” you smiled. “I think it would do well in the garden. But can I tell you what I really want?”

Joel smiled at you, reaching for your hips from his place on the bed. “Of course you can.”

You reached over and rubbed his shoulders over his worn flannel. “I have this insane craving for popcorn,” you chuckled. “I never knew how much I would miss that. Buttery, salty movie theater popcorn on Friday nights with my mom.” You teared up a bit at the memory while Joel gave your hand a gentle kiss. “It’s a long shot, I know. But just keep an eye out for me.”

“Of course I will, baby.”

As the winter chill started to wane and the early tells of spring arrived, you gathered a small group of pupils to shadow you while you tended to the garden. Most of the group were young, around Ellie’s age, using a few hours a week to work in the garden as a professional skills building internship of sorts. 

“Here are the herbs,” you spoke to the small group, grabbing your shears out of the apron you wore daily. “Herbs need to be trimmed to encourage growth, and in a place like this, we need as much growth as possible,” you offered with a smile. 

“Every plant has different needs,” you took a second to smell the basil in front of you. “Here, Ellie, let’s try this one.”

Ellie giddily grabbed hold of your shears, earning chuckles from the other students and an eye roll from you. 

“Basil loves to be cut, but you have to do it in a very specific way if you want it to flourish. Where do you think you should cut it?” you asked Ellie.

“Um, maybe right here?” Ellie asked, gesturing to a spot where two basil leaves had grown out together.

“Yes! That’s perfect, go ahead.” Watching Ellie gently cut the leaves off you kept instructing. “Basically, anywhere where there are two or three leaves growing is a good place to cut because then two more sets of leaves will grow in its place. Kinda like a hydra in Greek mythology,” you offered. “This way the plant will keep producing.”

You made your way down the herbs, allowing all the students to take turns trimming plants and offering explanations why things were done a certain way before you excused everyone for the day. You were grateful that you found a place at the end of the world where you were able to carve out little moments of peace. If it weren’t for the fact that your boyfriend and so many of your friends left early every morning for patrol, you would think you were in heaven. But regardless of what lay beyond the gates of Jackson, you were happy and content.

You were taking inventory, checking to see what crops were matured and available for this week's rotation of meals for The Bison when you noticed Joel opening the small gate that blocked off the garden from the stables.

“Hey! What are you doing here? It’s early—”

You weren’t able to finish your thought before Joel was on you, lifting you up and spinning you around with a smile that was only meant for you.

“Missed ya, darlin’.”

You hummed softly to yourself, the feeling of your man surrounding you and the feel of the sun on your skin were absolutely making your day. 

“I got you something,” Joel muttered, pulling away from you softly.

You met his warm brown eyes, wondering what he possibly could have grabbed for you while he was out today.

Turning away from you and reaching into his pack, the sight made your breath hitch. It couldn’t be, could it? 

The familiar green of the husks was so familiar, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“There were only these three,” Joel started. “I almost thought I was seeing things, but it’s—”

“Corn,” you finished for him. “You found me corn.”

Tears started to well in your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact you were crying over corn of all things. A younger version of yourself would roll her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help but get emotional at the possibilities of being able to grow it. You thought about a summer barbecue at The Bison and how grilling corn would pair so well with whatever barbecue concoction they made for the 4th of July. You thought about all the kids who had never had popcorn during the weekly movie nights and how much you knew Elllie would enjoy it.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Joel urged as he wrapped you into a tighter hug.

You choked back a sob and leaned into his warmth. “You’re amazing. Thank you, Joel.”

The gentle kiss he laid on your lips caused you to let out a satisfied moan. You could feel him twitch below his waist at the sound and you tried not to laugh at his eagerness.

“You’re so easy,” you whispered against his lips.

“Darlin’, you know how your little noises affect me.”

You kissed him again, letting your tongues intertwine as you softly ran your fingers through his curls. You were pretty much alone at the entrance of the garden but the distant laughter you heard caused you to ease your lips apart, despite the obvious bulge in Joel’s pants and the heady pulse you felt in your stomach. You definitely didn’t need to get caught getting hot and heavy with Joel—not again. Took weeks for the entirety of Jackson to stop snickering at the two of you.

“Help me finish up?” you asked with a smile, knowing your man could never say no to you. “Then I can thank you, properly.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, hands still roaming absent-mindedly on your low back. “Whatever y’need, baby.”

As you made your way back to your shared home, you couldn’t stop yourself from holding Joel’s hand. You were blissfully happy and although the fact that he found three ears of corn for you to plant should’ve been shocking, it honestly wasn’t. In the past year, Joel Miller had done everything you asked of him. He went out of his way to make you happy. He treated you with respect and opened up to you, even when it felt unnatural for him. He was a good man, he was your good man. And as he unlocked the door to your home, the only thought in your head was that you wanted to show him how much you loved him.

Joel grabbed your pack from your shoulder and placed it on the bench by the front door, a small thing he did daily to make sure you were prepared for the next day. Always taking care of you. You took a deep exhale and without words, held your hand out for him to take. Joel followed you without question. 

Once you were inside your bedroom you reached your hands around Joel’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He sighed into your mouth, shoulders relaxing at the feel of your lips. 

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured into him and you felt the small smile grace his lips before he deepened the kiss. His hands moved under your shirt, lightly grazing your nipples causing your breath to hitch. He pulled off your t-shirt and immediately placed his hands back on your breasts, causing your nipples to harden as you let out a little gasp.

He smirked at your reaction and moved down to kiss in between the valley of your breasts. You scratched his head, softly encouraging him to keep going.

“Darlin’,” he sighed, “do you know how perfect you are?”

You scoffed, you were supposed to be thanking him, worshipping him, not the other way around.

His hands were moving further south, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping a finger into the slick wetness in between your thighs. “Joel,” you whined, “I’m supposed to be thanking you.”

His eyes snapped up to yours but he didn’t stop his movements. “Thankin’ me? For what?”

You moaned at the addition of an extra finger. “For being so good to me.”

He kissed you again, slowly growing intensity matching the pace of his fingers. “Mm, darlin’, you never have to thank me. I love you, sweet girl.”

Another soft moan escaped your lips, from his words or his actions, you weren’t sure. You reached your hand into his jeans, finger thumbing over his leaky tip. Joel couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you like this, at the end of the world.

“Baby, can I taste you?”

You whimpered, lips parting at his husky voice. “Yes, Joel, please,” you practically begged.

After shedding the rest of your clothes, Joel laid down next to you on your bed, caressing your body and gazing at your form appreciatively. Kissing his way down your body, he shamelessly spread your wet folds, staring a beat too long for your comfort. You whine his name and make a move to close your legs before he makes a tsk sound. “Don’t do that. Just admirin’ the view.”

You would’ve scoffed at him, but he quickly buried his mouth in your pussy, effectively knocking every other thought out of your head. Joel knew what he was doing, and even before the world went to shit, you never had a man who loved to eat it the way Joel did. You were basically doing him a favor by letting him be down there.

“Taste so good, baby,” he groaned, the sound vibrating against your folds. Each thrust from his fingers accompanied by the expert swirl of his tongue on your clit made your nipples impossibly harder and your back arch on the bed.

You were moaning obscenely, the wet squelch from his fingers creating a filthy symphony in your bedroom. “Joel, please,” you moaned, holding his head tight to your center. Taking that as you urging him to keep going, he continued his devouring of you until you released a shudder and a whiny squeal of his name. Gently licking into you he gathered your release and let out a filthy moan before he pressed a final, soft kiss to your lower lips as you caught your breath. 

“So fucking good,” you pant, pulling him up to your lips for an appreciative kiss. Joel got lost in you, mindlessly thrusting into the crevice of your thigh. Poor guy, you thought. “Baby, you’re so good at that.”

He hummed into your mouth, hips continuing his soft grind. “You taste so good, makes it easy.”

“Mm, but I wanted to thank you, and you’re doing all the work.”

He mouths at your jaw, cock now sliding against the slit on your folds, drenching him in your wetness. “Being inside you baby,” he starts, inching his girthy cock into your heat, “is thanks enough.”

Your head cocks back in a wild moan as Joel forces the last few inches of himself inside you. He sets a punishing pace, hitting a spot inside you that no one else ever would. “Feel so damn good,” he grunts.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, unable to think straight or say a word, only strangled gasps coming from you at his thrusts. Feeling you tighten around his cock, he moves his thumb down to your clit, eyes dark and wild at the erratic bounce of your tits. “So close,” you manage to gasp out.

Joel keeps going, his pace brutal and perfect. He looks so serious, focused solely on you and your pleasure. You know he’s close, doing everything he can to make you finish first. The thought of how he does everything to make you feel satisfied does you in, and with a loud moan you cum hard, triggering Joel’s orgasm, ropes of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “didn’t mean to…”

Your hands went back to his head, gently stroking at his sweaty curls. You sighed at the wet spill of his cum leaking out of you. Definitely not ideal at the end of the world. But then again, Joel as a dad wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had. You were pretty sure you weren't ovulating anyway. “It’s fine, Joel. Felt too good to stop,” you offer.

He kissed your lips gently, wrapping you up in his warmth. You knew whatever happened next didn’t matter, as long as Joel was by your side.

if you made it this far, leave me a comment! ty for reading

[quarterlifekitty]

cooking was mentioned but I kind of wonder how the cod men would react to reader bringing them cookies/some sort of pastry they know they like. Ive also had the idea of price getting turned on watching reader knead bread dough stuck in my head for some reason.. or ghost coming home to the smell of freshly baked pie (or something similarly wholesome) with blood still caked under his nails.... wrapping those large hands around my waist while i'm making the crust.. ughhh..sorry just- housewife reader who bakes treats and takes care of and dotes on a big military man and gets fucked senseless in return is so stuck in my head.

So I’m going to use this opportunity to speak gratuitously about Ghost’s relationship to food. Others have spoken of it at length before, but hopefully I will be able to add something new!

So we all know that Ghost did not have a happy childhood. He did not grow up in a secure home. He did not grow up with means. He was not nurtured, nor was he nourished. He enlisted at the first opportunity, and I think he nearly cried from being able to eat three, full meals a day that weren’t even that bad.

The next section of his life is a bit better in regards to eating, but not great. He knows where his next meal is coming from, and he doesn’t have to worry about there being enough to eat. He’s a grown man with a paycheck, he can buy food if he likes. But we all know the cafeteria food and MREs are demoralizing. They’re edible, but nothing more than that.

The first time he has leave, has to stare at the walls of his own empty studio and live for himself with the means to go grocery shopping as much as he likes— he’s at a total loss. No one ever taught him what he should be eating. No one ever showed him how to wash mushrooms. How to cut against the grain of a cut of beef. How to separate an egg yolk from the white. How to reduce a sauce. How to make sure scrambled eggs don’t overcook by taking the pan off of the heat.

So he starts very small. Eats like a college student. Lots of microwave shit. Works up to cooking himself some eggs. Almost moans at how good they are when it’s freshly cooked, on toast, and there’s no eggshell in it, and no one is yelling at him while he eats, he doesn’t have to hurry and get moving— it’s a really beautiful feeling he’s never gotten.

And maybe he had a neighbor at this time. Some older woman who noticed that the apartment that sat dormant most of the year had an occupant. One that still looked like a kid. Wore fatigues. Clearly didn’t have a family to go home to, if he was hanging around here on his shore time.

So she starts feeding him. Giving him a portion of what she makes for her own family. Casserole, cakes, stroganoff— anything. And Ghost will never forget that. The unparalleled joy of being given food from someone’s own home. Something they made. Something good. The food always tastes better when it isn’t mass produced. It always tastes better fresh. And it always tastes better when it was made by someone who cares.

The trajectory of his life and career don’t afford him much time. He spends most of his leave time cooking. Experimenting with recipes and learning. But that’s still such a small minority of his life.

When you, the fresh face in the 141 start bringing in food regularly, Gaz jokes that you’re buttering them up— trying to get in their good graces. You’re warned that Ghost is a hard won man. The truth is that no one has really tried home made lemon bars on him before. And they work like a charm.

Maybe a year or two later, you’ve gone on leave for maternity. You’re moved in together. It’s his first deployment without you working at his side. His first time coming home, and actually having someone to come home to.

And the house is alive. He can smell the currant and blueberry pie in the oven. You’re playing music in the kitchen. The house is so warm. There’s an unfolded blanket on the couch. The couch has a spaghetti stain on one of the arm rests.

And you. In loose pants and an even looser shirt with your bump visible. There’s blood under his nails. He smells like sweat and hot old dirt. But here you are, making the perfect nest for him. Not minding when he lays his head on your shoulder, embracing you from behind while you idly check the sauce simmering on the stove.

So are you getting fucked tonight? Baby, you’re getting fucked while that pie is on the cooling rack. You are getting railed after dinner and then you’re getting railed after dessert. And then you’re getting pounded in the shower and then he’s taking you in your fucking bed. And if you weren’t pregnant before, you definitely would be now.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[papurgaatika]

Papaya’s Official Pedro Character Dick List

This started as me trying to just list them in biggest to smallest dick order, but i got carried away so now it’s that but with a few fleeting (horny) thoughts. Enjoy whores. Xoxo

1. Joel

Horse cock, duh

"Just the tip baby" is a line he’s ALWAYS using

Y’know that line about how he never actually went to university to study? That’s bc he was def fucking college girls and lord was he the talk of the town

If you could sneak Joel “big dick” Miller into your sorority house you were a legend.

Yes this might just be me being self gratuitous

2. Frankie Morales

Big and thick

Shy about it but too focused on pussy to care

Can get off just from eating you out, is extremely proud of that because it means he can just stay between your legs for however long he wants

3. Marcus Acacius

Roman army general who comes back aching after months of war

Will fuck you until you’re dizzy bc you can practically feel him in your stomach

Breeding kink galore, wants to see you round with his kids over and over

4. Javier Peña

He cant be that full of himself without having a pretty dick

And he is so pretty, maybe not that thick but he is big regardless

Loves to press against the top of your pelvis to make you feel him a little more if he shifts his hips up

5. Dave York

Look at him. I know you’ve seen his bulge dont lie to me you heathen.

Will trace a knife over your skin while he’s pushing into you to keep you still

Wears a cock ring to keep himself from cumming until you’re absolutely begging for it

6. Oberyn Martell

Royal cock. That’s all i have to say

Look. he is canonically a slut, there has to be good dick

Not a vers, but will switch occasionally if he’s feeling like he wants change.

Jerks off while you watch just to tease you

7. Pero Tovar

There’s something about these dirty sword-wielding men that screams BDE

Have i seen this movie? No. do i know that he’s jerking himself off and not bothering to be quiet about it even when he’s out on missions? Yeah. yeah i do.

He’ll bite and mark you, but will kiss them better afterwards

8. Din Djarin

Above average, but not too big, and he likes it like that

Def a grower, which makes it irritating when you tease him while he’s in the armor

Hates having to adjust while he’s on missions but you make it impossible

Missionary STANNNN, loves to have his forehead pressed against yours

9. Javi Gutierrez

Pleasure dom 100%

Just average length and girth, but he KNOWS how to use it, and use it well

Will slide just the tip in and make you cockwarm him laying like that until he makes you cum at least twice

10. Jack “whiskey” Daniels

This fucking asshole (i love him)

Ties you up with his lasso

Just smaller than average, but claims he’d get too distracted otherwise

Magic fingers. 100% and he knows it too.

11. Ezra

FREAK. He might be the freakiest one here if i speak honestly.

Doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a huge dick, says he can make you feel better than anyone with a massive shlong can (my words, not his, he’s too eloquent)

Into fisting and coos at you about how he can split you open on his hand and you’ll still ask for more

12. Silva

Bottom!

Not that he needs a small dick to be a bottom, but he just prefers it

Likes to grind against the sheets to get stimulation while he’s face down

13. Marcus pike

Cutie pie with a cute dick

I dont remember who it was but someone on here wrote soft!dom marcus so well and it makes me crazy

Overstimulates you while you ride him

14. Max Phillips

This is to knock this asshole down a notch

Endless stamina (vampire) so it doesn’t really matter

Super into slipping a finger inside while he’s fucking you

Also will make you eat his ass

15. Dieter Bravo

He has a small dick and dare i speak my truth when i say it’s hot???

He loves it, he doesnt need to be huge to feel good.

This man is a vers and a switch. Power bottoming for DAYS or being a bratty top. He has the best of everything.

Degradation kink GALORE!! If you call his dick small condescendingly he might cum immediately

[jeewrites]

Something Sweet 🍰

my silly little one shot with gratuitous haikus for @jolapeno's dearuary challenge

Rating: General, but my blog is 21+ MDNI Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Prompt: Character A keeps finding X and tracks them back to B, who might be leaving them intentionally — or not.

Word Count: 2.2k CW/Tags: Mostly Marcus POV, very silly haikus, reader's grandmother's name is Mrs. Lee, ugh Theresa, Marcus is heartbroken, descriptions of food

Summary: Marcus Pike moves into the apartment across from your grandmother.

Why did no one warn him about how freaking humid it was in D.C. in the summertime? If he took two seconds to think about it, of course it would be, considering how often his new home was referred to as a swamp. 

But no, all he thought about was Theresa’s plane arriving without her, leaving him standing at baggage claim bereft with balloons, a bouquet, and a welcome sign. The pit of his stomach twisted as the last passengers from her flight walked past him standing there, alone. There would be no fresh start with Theresa, no slow mornings in a charming row home just a few metro stops from work. No, there was just an invisible hand squeezing his heart so hard he could hardly make it home — well, back to the empty row house. It was supposed to be their home, but he would never call it home. Somehow the flowers and welcome sign were still crushed in his hands as he walked up the front steps. Where the balloons went, he didn't even know.

Marcus didn’t even bother to unpack after Theresa notified him that she would be staying in Texas with Jane. He negotiated out of his lease for a generous fee in a numb haze and moved into a small apartment for one. At least this apartment was in a bustling neighborhood, surrounded by delectable eats and a coffee shop with the best-baked goods he’s had in recent memory. At least he had carbs.

He threw himself into his new role at the FBI, burying his heartbreak with work, work travel, and more work. The only neighbor he’d managed to meet was his sweet across-the-hall neighbor, Mrs. Lee, a spry septuagenarian with a sense of humor who reminded him fondly of his own grandmother.

“You’ve been working yourself too hard,” she’d tsk when he came home after pulling an all-nighter, just as she was going out for her morning walk. “Have you eaten yet?”

So it didn’t surprise him the first time a non-descript brown bag of baked goods appeared on his doorstep — a generous slice of pie, still warm from the oven. Stuck on top of the package was a colorful post-it note with loopy cursive:

Funny and a poet, he thought as he tossed his takeout on the kitchen counter and dug into the cobbler. Dessert before dinner, just because he could. His groan reverberated through his empty apartment at the first bite of pie, the buttery flakiness of the crust with the perfect chew unveiled the complementary summer sweet peach and slightly floral, tangy blueberries. Just like his grandmother used to make, he thought. 

A few weeks passed before another brown bag appeared at his doorstep.

Followed by a batch of cinnamon rolls at the end of a particularly grueling week at the office. As much as Marcus was working, even this week had him considering that perhaps he was working a little bit too hard. At least the haiku in the bag made him guffaw.

Despite his attempts at burying his heartbreak in work, he was trying to settle into his new neighborhood and find some semblance of routine, even if it reminded him of how alone he was at every turn. A particularly tasty Thai restaurant down the street earned his business at least once, okay, twice a week, usually as take-out when he wanted to get extra steps in that day. He’d only eaten at the restaurant once, but was reminded too much of Theresa with all the couples on dates surrounding him at every table. 

And he had found what he considered his coffee shop, just around the corner from his apartment. They brewed coffee properly and had an outstanding selection of breakfast sandwiches and bakery items. They never charged him extra no matter how many pumps of hazelnut syrup he asked for. It helped that the employees there were warm and friendly, like folks back home, compared to how… brisk people could be in the nation’s capital. In DC it seemed like everyone just wanted to know what he did for work and measured his worth by his GS level and security clearance. Plus, the barista knew his coffee order by heart now and would start making it as soon as he walked in the door. Yeah, the coffee shop definitely turned into a daily habit.

If he was honest with himself, it didn’t hurt that the barista was super cute, with a smile that lit up the whole shop when she chose to bequeath it to a lucky customer. The first time she handed him his coffee and smiled that beaming smile of hers, he felt something in his battered heart, a flicker of warmth in his chest that spread to the tips of his fingers and toes. He thought he managed to smile back and mumble a thank you as heat crept up his collar. He still didn’t know her name, and couldn’t summon the courage to ask. He knew if he asked, he’d fall, and he only ever knew how to fall hard. His heart couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t risk it right now. Or maybe ever. He knew he was being dramatic, but it’d been months and he was just starting to feel like his heart had stopped bleeding enough to possibly heal. 

Of course, he threw out his back the next day chasing a suspect on a stakeout gone wrong. 

After four days lying on his couch staring at the empty walls, Marcus seriously considered finally hanging some photos or art or maybe the flat screen TV still in its box. A shuffling noise outside his front door had him groaning to stand as he hobbled over to see what the commotion was about, only to find a brown bag hung on his front door handle. Not a soul in sight as his eyes swept the hallway in both directions. As he gingerly made his way to the kitchen counter, his mouth watered at the smell of browned butter wafting up from the bag.       

Laughing made his back twinge, but he had to give it to Mrs. Lee, her sense of humor was spot on. When his back recovered enough for him to go into the office, Marcus nearly missed a bag of cookies hung on the handle as he rushed out.

Sure enough, the assortment of cookies in the bag featured both decadently chewy chocolate chip cookies, as well as, shatteringly crisp cookies he found delectable paired with his coffee. He immediately regretted bringing the cookies to the office as his co-workers descended on them like scavengers, leaving nary a crumb behind. Still, the thought occurred to him as he trudged home to his apartment that evening, it was probably for the best that he didn’t eat a dozen cookies all by himself.

Marcus was so deep in thought over the merits of chewy versus crispy cookies, that he didn’t realize Mrs. Lee was standing at her door waving at him.

“Long day, hon?” 

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering how to bring up the sweet treats without seeming ungrateful. “Yes ma’am, it’s been a day.”

“Well, I hope you get yourself something tasty to eat for dinner young man.”

“Thank you Mrs. Lee, I will. Uh — I really appreciate all the baked goods by the way, but you don’t have to keep doing that.” Lies, he’d take any sweets that crossed his path.

She tilted her head to the side, “Oh sweetheart, I’m not the one leaving treats at your door.”

“Wait, what?” He mirrored her head movement in confusion.

“Honey, I can’t bake boxed brownies to save my life.”

“But do you know who is?” he felt the furrow in his brow deepen as his mind whirred. Who could possibly be the culprit? His enormous assumption that Mrs. Lee was the bearer of baked goods meant he’d been eating food left by god knows who for all these months. 

Mrs. Lee just gave him a smile and shrug before throwing a little wink over her shoulders as she went into her unit, leaving Marcus standing outside his door in stunned surprise. After a moment standing in the hallway alone, Marcus turned to enter his unit in confusion, running through all the possibilities of who could be the culprit. After all, he was still relatively new in town. Who would do such a kind thing? 

However, weeks passed and since his conversation with Mrs. Lee, the treats stopped appearing at his door, making him wonder if he spooked her into stopping. Or did she tip off who was leaving the treats?

Another grueling week under his belt was made more difficult by having to collaborate with the New York office. He almost had to make the trip up to the Big Apple, but mercifully the agents up there managed the case without him. For once he was relieved at getting to stay in town, a proper weekend to perhaps unpack a few more boxes at his place. 

And he had managed a short conversation with the barista that morning, basking in the sunshine of her smile. To his surprise, a familiar brown bag sat at his doorway when he got off the elevator.

Perhaps he hadn’t scared off Mrs. Lee after all, he thought as he dug into the fluffiest cheesecake he’d ever had in his life. 

It’d been a day. He couldn’t keep pulling these 14-hour days. It’s unsustainable, he thought as the elevator dinged on his floor. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he trudged out of the elevator. At least he had dinner on the way from his favorite Thai spot a few blocks down. It’s only then he spotted the back of a figure at his doorstep with a brown bag in hand — the same brown bag all those sweet treats arrived in — stealing his treats.

Before he knew it, all of his FBI training on approaching a suspect flew out the window as he stormed toward them shouting, “HEY! YOU THERE!”  Never get between a Pike and their dessert.

The loud voice of an angry man caught you off guard as you spun around, clutching the bag of muffins in your hand. Marcus. 

He paused in immediate recognition and stopped a few steps away from you. In a softer voice, he asked, “It’s… you?”

You dropped your gaze and bit your lower lip nervously, clutching the bag to your chest as your heart pounding from being shouted at. You managed to whisper, “You caught me,” before raising your eyes to meet his warm, brown ones. 

The same brown eyes that drew you in the first time you ever laid eyes on him months ago. You had just left your grandmother’s apartment, noticing the unit across the hall from her had a new tenant moving in. A handsome man with the most expressive brown eyes was hefting a moving box in his arms towards the propped-open door. You knew grief when you saw it. His shoulders slumped with his eyes cast down, not even open to a friendly hello in the hallway. Your heart went out to this grieving man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. So you decided then and there to leave him some of your coveted treats the next time you baked for your grandmother. It was convenient enough since you worked at the coffee shop just down the street.

“How do you know where I live?” he asked, bringing your attention back to the present.

“I saw you move in,” you mumbled eyes darting away from his intense stare. “When I was leaving my grandmother’s. She’s — she’s your neighbor.” You gestured towards her door.

“...but why?”

“You looked like you needed something sweet,” you explain. “A pick me up.”

“When I moved in…" He huffed at that and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I really needed a pick me up then.”

Somehow you’ve moved closer together during the brief exchange. You’re getting the full effect of those expressive eyes that drew you in in the first place, now without the barrier of an espresso machine and counter.

Before he could elaborate, a food delivery driver walked up and interrupted your conversation with a grunt, “Uh, I have a delivery for, uh, Marcus Pike? You Marcus Pike?”

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked after taking the bag from the driver with a sheepish expression. “I always order too much food.”

“Depends,” you smirked as the smell of curry wafted from the bag. “If that’s from the Thai spot down the street.”

“It is,” he confirmed, returning your smirk with a dimpled grin.

“Then, yes. And I brought dessert.”

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.

Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.

Words: ~3.5k

A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.

Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.

***Minor do not read or interact***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans.  Phew-ee!

You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes.  Ugh!  Asshole!

Tonight had been a tough night.  Even Sam was feeling the burn.  Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off.  Those damn vamps had just kept on coming.  Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all.  Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.

Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines.  One way in, one way out.  You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.

Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.

“Guitar string.”  He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.

“We’re fucking bait?”  You hissed furiously.  No, surely not?  Dean would never use his brother as bait.  Would he?  “Goddamn asshole!”  You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.

He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight.  “Get ready.”

You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight.  There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him.  If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun.  IF you got out alive.

The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off.  Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.

Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through.  As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see.  You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.

Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless.  Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.

It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up.  Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground.  You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.

The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over.  You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now.  You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.”  Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.

You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead.  Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore.  Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry.  When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking.  If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.

You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.

After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind.  Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.

“It worked, didn’t it?”  Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people.  Aint nothin’ new.”

Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar.  The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you.  Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did.  You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.

You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure.  You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.

Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.

So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.

It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox.  When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.

You can’t watch this.  You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight.  You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all.  Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.

In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror.  No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess.  It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman.  He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that.  Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that.  Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets.  With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.

A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start.  At first you don’t know where you are.  So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack.  It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.

You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door.  Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.

“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.

“I know,” he grumbles, “open up.  I got something.”

“It can wait until the morning.”

“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.

“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.

Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned.  You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.

“Got you something.”  He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly.  Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?

“It’s two in the morning, Dean.”  You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.

“Peace offering.”  He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.

You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops.  It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it.  You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?”  You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.

He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies.  “I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.

“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one.  So, I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you.”  You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.

“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know?  But that’s on me.”

What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you?  All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys.  When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.

“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”

You remember the conversation clearly.  It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you.  Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything.  Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.

“I wish I never said it.  I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.”   He looks at you again, beseechingly.  “Do you think we can start again?  Be friends like before?”

You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back.  You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.

“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.”  Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.

You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him.  His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him.  He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.

The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes.  You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips.  You swallow with a sigh.  His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.

You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth.  He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions.  He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.

“But you said…”

You shush him with a finger laid over his lips.  “I know what I said.”

“Then what did you mean?”  He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.

“I wish I’d said yes.”

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Good evening Dear Reader, it's been awhile, hasn't it? I've missed you so much! Don't worry darling, I don't return empty handed ;)

Now Presenting...

Starring: Ryomen Sukuna, in a modern day curse-less AU Summary: After being left at the alter by your less than magnificent fiance, you only have one thing on your mind: revenge sex. And who better to help you out than the man your ex hates the most.

Warning: This fic contains a gratuitous amount of smut, both praise and degradation, unprotected sex, face fucking, finger fucking, multiple orgasms, and is all wrapped up in a nice cream-pie. viewer discretion is advised ;)

Okay, admittedly, you may have had this coming. Everyone and his mother warned you about Satoru Gojo. About his womanizing ways, his commitment issues, his demanding job. Still, none of that mattered to you. You were convinced that you could fix him! That love would pull through. He’d realize that you meant more to him than being a playboy, and he’d settle down for you. You knew in your heart that you would have your fairytale ending with him.

Yea well turns out your hearts a dirty fucking liar. The weight of that realization was crashing down hard on you as you nursed a vodka sweet tea at what was supposed to be the reception for your wedding. You secretly vowed to never pick up another romance novel ever again. There’s not many things in this world more mortifying than being left at the altar. Maybe somebody pulling an “I told you so” right after you got left at the altar? That could be just as bad.

“I told you so,” Nanami said as he sat next to you, tie already undone. The groan that escaped your throat was a little more raw than you intended as you dropped your head into your arms. It was official; this was the most humiliating day of your life. 

“Thanks Kento, that's actually exactly what I needed right now,” You muttered as you picked up your head long enough to finish your drink.

“Always happy to help.” He said, patting your back in what you were fairly confident was meant to be comforting. You sighed as you rubbed your face, not even caring if your makeup smudged anymore. You were sure at least your mascara was wrecked. 

“I just don’t understand what I did wrong,” You admitted, turning to face the partying crowd, dancing the night away as if this wasn’t the worst night of your life. At least it was all on fuck faces dime. “I was the perfect fiance! I was loving without being suffocating, I supported him in everything he fucking did, I was faithful, shit man, we fucked constantly, it was like-”

“I don’t need to know the details, thanks.” Nanami said, quickly cutting you off before you put any images in his mind. He shook his head to expel any that had slipped in. “It’s nothing you did Y/n,” He assured you, “Gojo is just not the type to commit to a coffee order, let alone a marriage.” You shook your head, not wanting to accept it.

“I just wish I could find a way to hurt him like how he hurt me.” You muttered. You scanned the faces dancing in the crowd. You were shocked to see how many of his friends were still there. Nanami made sense, at some point he became more your friend than Satorus. But Suguru? That one didn’t make any sense. Unless it was to report back to Satoru what you were do-

Oh.

Oh, he was definitely here to make sure you were a fucking mess. He was here to report back to Gojo that you were indeed destroyed and were never going to get over him. No, No absolutely not, you were not going to let him have that. 

“Y/n, are you listening?” Nanami asked. You absolutely were not. 

“Uh huh, yea,” You nodded, scanning the crowd for a body to get under, “I’ll be sure to start investing tomorrow-”

“Nope, not even close to what I was saying.” Nanami groaned, rolling his eyes. He recognized that look on your face. “What are you scheming Y/n?” It was then your eyes landed on the perfect target- I mean hookup. Ryomen Sukuna, nursing a drink in the back of the venue, watching the party the way a lion watches a herd of gazelles. You never fully understood Satoru’s friendship with him, but you completely understood why he got the invite. The two were less close college friends, and more bitter rivals patiently waiting for the other's downfall. The two constantly had to one up and outdo each other, and you had no doubt in your mind his invitation was just another way to try and show off.

“So, Nanami, You still talk to Ryomen, right?” You asked, ignoring whatever he was saying before.

“I don’t like that you’re asking me that right now.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I just want to know if he’s sing-”

“No.” Nanami said firmly, looking at you with the same eyes a father gives a child that keeps drawing on the walls.

“No he’s taken or no you won’t tell me if he is or not?” you asked, taking out a compact from your bag to check your makeup. It actually wasn’t that bad! Shout out to waterproof makeup!

“No, I’m not going to watch you make mistake after mistake. Ryomen is bad news. You think Gojo was bad? Well he’s ten times worse.” Nanami warned, looking into the crowd to see if he could find Ryomen lurking in it. He didn’t even know he was here! And if anyone would be down to make a bad situation worse, it was him.

“How does my ass look in this dress?” You asked. Satoru had picked it out because it was “danceable” for you. It wasn’t something you would have chosen for yourself, but you still felt like you rocked it. 

“I’m not answering that question.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes in annoyance.

“You don’t have to, I know I look good.” You smiled and winked. The dress may not have been great on you, but it’s fine. Confidence is what's really attractive. You took a deep breath, then went to approach the unapproachable. Ryomen couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried, but the closer you got the more interesting he became. His black dress shirt hugged him just a little too tight, leaving very little to the imagination. He had his sleeves rolled up, tattoos on full display while he checked his watch. He looked up from it just in time to capture your eyes with his, intrigue and amusement igniting behind his scarlet irises. 

“Hi Ryomen,” You smiled. You had been working on a loose outline of a script as you made your way to him, but now that you were next to him that script was about as good as your marriage was. And well, considering your marriage never actually happened..

“Hi Y/n. I’m surprised to see you here, honestly.” Ryomen had never been one to beat around the bush. You noticed his eyes fall to your cleavage.Oh good, he was willing to play ball.

“Why are you surprised? It’s my party.” You smiled, resting next to him against the wall.

“I don’t know many people that would want to go to the reception after getting so publicly dumped.” He said. Ouch, ok that was uncalled for. You hoped the sting didn’t show on your face. If it did it didn’t phase him.

“Hey, the party was paid for,” You shrugged, “No use letting a perfectly good open bar go to waste, especially when I’m not paying for it.” You grinned. You had successfully earned yourself a smirk from Sukuna, and a point for the home team.

“I’ll drink to that,” He laughed, “Want me to grab you something?” The ball was in your court, quick, be clever! 

“A drink actually sounds great right now. How about a Sex on the Beach?” You smirked.

“Ooo, I don’t think they’re serving those. How about I give you a Screaming Orgasm instead?” He smirked back.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I may need a Leg Spreader before that.” You hummed, giggling for the first time all night. He nodded, 

“Got it, a Blowjob for me and a Leg Spreader for you. I’ll be right back.” he nodded, walking off. The thought of Ryomen trying to take a blowjob shot, hunched over the glass and trying to drink the liquid without using his hands, genuinely made you laugh a little. You found an empty table nearby to take up residence at, and contemplate if you really wanted to do this. Your relationship was in the gutter, there was no getting around that. Being left at the altar was the kind of blow you can’t just come back from. 

But you didn’t have to fuck his friends (enemy?). Doing this was most definitely an act of war. Whether you were actively together or not, Gojo was extremely territorial of you. You knew that was why Suguru was here; to make sure you didn’t jump into a rebound. If he found out you slept with Ryomen Sukuna of all people on your (almost) wedding night of all days, that would eat him alive from the inside out. There would be hell to pay for sure.

Good. You reminded yourself that you didn’t ask for this fight, but you would win it. You smiled as Ryomen returned with two drinks: a whiskey neat for him and a drink that looked more akin to chocolate milk with whip cream for you. 

“Gotta say; looking a bartender in the eye and asking for a ‘screaming orgasm’ will never not be funny.” He joked, handing you your drink and sitting across from you. 

“Yea, why are so many drinks named like that? It’s weird, right?” You asked, tilting your head in genuine confusion.

“All bartenders are secretly nymphomaniacs,” He said with enough confidence you were almost convinced that was a real requirement to make drinks. “You’d know that if you slept with more.” and he said that as if it was some moral failing on your part that you had not slept with an adequate number of bartenders. It made you laugh.

“Oh, my mistake you’re right. I’ll fix that right now,” You bluffed. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the bar.

“Be my guest.” He offered, calling out the aforementioned bluff. 

“Oh, but that means I’d have to leave my guest alone, and that’s just bad hosting.” You faux pouted. He shrugged.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be alone for very long.” He smirked at you from behind his glass before taking a drink. You wanted to call him out on his bluff, but, you knew he wasn’t bluffing. Satoru had dragged you to enough social events with Sukuna to know that he rarely went home alone. You decided to go with a different strategy. 

“Well, what if I told you I had my sights set on a better prize for tonight?” You asked, batting your eyes and bringing your arms together to emphasize your chest. Sukuna gave a dark grin, seeing right through you.

“I’d say good choice,” he winked, “especially for what you’re trying to do.” Welp, you didn't have anything planned for that comment. You blinked at him

“What do you mean?” You asked, playing dumb. 

“Come on Y/n, I’d hope you’d give me more credit than this. You got stood up at the altar by your asshole, hopefully ex, fiance, and now you want to fuck the guy he hates more than just about anything else to get back at him. It’s a solid plan honestly, and luckily for you, I’ve had my eyes on you since the first time Satoru brought you around.” He was making eye contact with you. The fire in his crimson eyes danced with mirth and hedonistic intent. You realized this was probably why Sukuna had even bothered to show up to the reception. He had your plan before you even did.

Before you could respond, you were startled by a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Hey Y/n, how you holding up?” You looked up to see Sugurus' gentle smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes held nothing but steel and mild resentment. He always looked at you like that. You moved your shoulder from under his hand.

“I’m fine Sug, thanks for asking.” You muttered, taking a long sip of your drink. ‘Don’t sit down, don’t sit down, don’t sit down,’ played in your mind on repeat.

“Of course, Y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He said, sitting down. ‘Fuck!’ “I know this must be hard for you.”

“Actually, You’d be surprised.” You said, getting your nerves back together. This was Gojos' spy. You couldn't let him see you falter. “I’m just ready to be over it.”

“You know what they say; the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody.” Ryomen chuckled as he finished his drink. Suguru glared at him.

“Yea, I never liked that advice.” He said, venom lacing its way into his words as he shot daggers at Sukuna with his eyes. He turned back to you, “It’s always sounded like a good way to make your situation worse.” Was that a threat? 

“I mean, You never know until you try.” You challenged.

“I disagree.” Suguru warned. You brushed him off. 

“Well, If that’s how you feel, so be it. Do me a favor?” You asked, looking at him with your best doe eyes.

“Of course, anything.” He said, plastering back on that fake sympathetic smile.

“Watch my drink for me,” you said, standing up and taking Sukunas’ hand, “Ryomen and I were just about to dance.” You grinned. Ryomen returned your grin ten fold, laughing as he followed you to the dance floor, leaving an almost visibly confused and quite frankly offended Suguru to seeth at the table. Last time you looked back, he had taken out his phone and was furiously typing on it. Good.

“I knew I liked you.” Ryomen whispered into your ear as the two of you made it to the dance floor. 

“Try to keep up with me.” You whispered back. You let the music flow through you, taking a few seconds to find your rhythm before moving your body in time with the music. Ryomen to his credit didn’t miss a beat, dancing not only to the beat, but in harmony with your own body as well. 

As the music played the two of you became more acquainted with each other's moves and dance styles. You thought you would switch it up on him, going in to grind. He didn’t falter for a second, placing a hand on your hip and matching your pace. You expected a lot of things from this exchange, but the electric pulse his touch sent through your body was not one of them.

“Am I keeping up with you?” Ryomen mumbled into your ear, the sound of his rough voice sent waves of heat through you and directly to your core. You spun around to face him, realizing that now he was within kissing distance.

“You’re doin’ well enough,”' you purred to him, running a hand over his chest and god damn. It should be illegal to be that well built. Between the tight shirt and your own sense of touch, you felt like you had a pretty good idea of what he looked like without that shirt on. Still, you desperately wanted to confirm your theory.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ryomen asked, almost as if he could read your mind.

“I say that's a pretty good idea,” You nodded as the two of you left the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you to the exit, and you slipped your hand into his back pocket. You really hoped Suguru had a clear view of this. ‘Eat your goddamn heart out Gojo’ You thought maybe just a bit too smugly as you found your way outside, and he gave his ticket to the valet boy.

You took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to ground yourself back into reality. It didn’t feel quite real yet. Your almost four year relationship had just barely ended, and already you were hopping into bed with someone you knew was bad news. Nanami wasn’t joking when he said Sukuna was just Gojo ten fold. In the four years you’d known him, you had watched him lay waste to more hearts than you cared to keep track of. You just hoped you weren’t next. 

All doubts evaporated like water in Texas when Sukuna approached you again. He had unbuttoned three of his shirt buttons, showing off hints that his tattoos didn’t stop at his face and arms. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips. He removed it long enough to exhale smoke as he approached.

“Valets on the way.” He informed you. You willed your brain to think of anything other than Ryomen naked long enough to nod. 

“Good to hear.” You nodded. You had a whole new set of anxieties now. You knew Ryomen had a lot of experience. What if you didn’t measure up? Apparently, your nerves were evident in your features. You caught a smug smile from the pink haired man next to you.

“You nervous?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Me?” You chuckled to hide the fact that yes, you indeed were. “I’ve got nothing to be nervous about Ryomen.” 

“Hmm, Well see about that.” He smirked. Before you had time to ask what the fuck that ment, a far prettier car than you were expecting pulled up. A gorgeous, 1957 Ford Thunderbird, with a beautiful cherry red paint job and, from what you could tell, a black leather interior. You knew that all of Gojos' friends were just as loaded as he was, the fact he had a nice car wasn't a surprise. But you had expected a Bently or a Lambo. Not a classic bombshell.

“You have a T-bird?!” you scoffed in disbelief. He laughed and nodded. 

“You like her?” He asked, beaming with pride as he tipped the valet. “I fixed her up myself.” He added, opening the door for you. You slipped into the soft leather seat, and a few seconds later he joined you.

“I never pegged you as a car guy.”

“You’ve never pegged me at all.” He grinned, laughing at his own joke. 

“Wow, you’re so funny you know that?” You scoffed, dripping in sarcasm. Despite that, you were giggling softly to yourself.

“Oh, I’m the funniest. You’d know that if you didn’t have your head up Satorus ass for four years.” He scoffed, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe that relationship lasted as long as it did. You shrugged softly, not really having a come back for that one. 

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “The dick was just that good.” If you had thought you had heard a full hearty laugh from Sukuna before, you hadn’t. You realized that as he fell into near hysterics over that comment. And, despite yourself, the sound was warm and infectious, making you laugh along with him.

“God, was he your first? That’s the only way I could see anyone thinking Gojo was good at sex, god.” He laughed, taking a drag off his cigarette before dangling it out of the window again.. You raised an eyebrow at that.

“And just how would you know? You get a little close and personal with our boy?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He was laughing, warm and hearty, again.

“Good God no!”He shook his head, “Some of us have standards! No, I don’t have any personal experience with him. But he brags all the time. Or, really, he thinks he brags. In reality, He talks about how bad he is at sex and we all just kinda nod and laugh at him behind his back.”

“Wait, He hasn’t talked to you guys about what happens in our bedroom, has he?!” You asked, a new wave of betrayal overtaking you. Ryomen just gave you a look and you knew the answer.

“Right, forget I asked.” You muttered. 

“Don’t worry Doll,” He assured you, placing a hand on your thigh. You thought your heart might explode at his warm touch. “After tonight, all of his bullshit will just seem like a fucked up nightmare.” You hoped he was right. 

💒💒💒

You were beginning to doubt your decision to bring him to your apartment instead of going to his. It’s not that you were ashamed of where you lived, on the contrary, you knew you had a beautiful residence. The shame came from the fact that this was technically still your shared dwelling with Satoru, and evidence of him still lingered in every corner of this apartment. His things were still here, which shouldn’t have been surprising really, but you were less ready to face it than you thought. 

The good news was Ryomen gave you exactly no time to start to miss your ex. His mouth was on yours almost the moment the two of you were in the door, pulling you close and taking your breath away in a needy kiss. You moaned softly into him, tangling your fingers into his soft pink hair, getting drunk on the scent of pine needles and Marlboro cigarettes. 

He kissed his way from your lips, to your jaw, all the way down to the base of your neck, leaving a trail of purple bruises in his wake. “Bedroom is-”

“I know.” He cut you off. You realized two things at that moment. 1.Sukuna had been to your house before, no doubt with Gojo. and 2. That he had been leading you to the bedroom the whole time. He fumbled for all of two seconds with the door before getting it open, ushering you in and all but pushing you onto the bed. It was in that moment that it hit you just how much bigger than you Sukuna was. 6’4 and made out of pure muscle, he could have truly hurt you if he wanted. 

You would think this would kill the mood a bit but quite the opposite actually. You pressed your thighs together to try and distract yourself from the almost uncomfortable amount of arousal pooling between them. Ryomen notably did not like this, moving to cage you onto the bed. “Come on Y/n, Don’t get shy on me now,” He purred as his hand moved down your body, “We just started having fun.”

You bit your lip as you began to melt under his electric touch. You watched as his hand disappeared under your dress. You bit your lip as you felt his fingers brush against the translucent spot on your panties. Your breath hitched and his smirk only grew.

“Is all of this for me, Doll?” He asked, teasing you through the fabric. You felt your hips unintentionally buck, trying desperately to make more friction. You nodded, maybe a little bit too aggressively for your taste, but it just seemed to encourage him. He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. “Thought so.” He muttered, moving your panties to the side and running one of his thick fingers up your folds, gathering the natural slick forming.

His eyes seemed to glow in the dim moonlight filling the room, taking in even your smallest reaction as he teased you. You whimpered softly at his touch. His gaze held yours firm as his fingers finally made contact with your clit. It was slow at first, sending soft pulses of pleasure through you. He built up a steady pace, applying more pressure and speed as your reactions demanded it. You whined needily, digging your freshly manicured claws into his shoulder blades.

“Ryomen..” You moaned. His name sounded so much prettier falling from your lips than he ever imagined. And he had imagined it.

“Say it again.” He encouraged, applying more pressure to your clit to make you squirm. His free hand found your hips, firmly pressing you into the mattress to keep you still.

“Ryomen, please..” You whimpered, “I need more, please..”

“What’s your rush?” He asked, a finger slipping down to tease at your weeping cunt. “We’ve got all night princess, and I’ve waited for this for too long to rush it.” He chuckled darkly, though he did grant your wish, slipping one of his fingers into you. He curled the long thick digit up, gracing your ever elusive (to Satoru) g-spot. You saw white hot, waves of fiery pleasure coursing through your core. You dug your claws even deeper into his back. He hoped the crescent moons of your nails would still be there in the morning. 

“Fuck, fuck! Ryo..” You moaned, losing yourself in the endorphins. He was persistent in the massaging of the soft part inside of you, and tension was quickly mounting. 

“Ryo?” He all but laughed, “That's new. I think I like it from you though.” He muttered, adding another finger into the mix. Your body tensed, both not ready for and more than excited to accept the intrusion. Your cunt clenched around his fingers as the tensions built inside of you. The string that had been tangling itself in your stomach was ready to snap, as were you. 

Your eyes screwed shut as you braced for your release, only to feel his hand move from your hip to your jaw, his nails digging into your skin just enough to get your attention. “Don’t close your eyes.” Ryomen growled, and you obeyed. “You fucking look at me. I want you to know who made you feel this good.” you whined at his words, but maintained eye contact with him. His blood red gaze was intense, molting hot even. If the inferno in your veins didn’t burn you alive, the incinerator behind his eyes surely would.

“Ryo, I’m so close.” You whined out. You were hit with wave after wave of bliss. Your body reacted to every stroke of his fingers inside of you, and the whirlwind was picking up. 

“Oh yea?” He muttered, with an intense focus that could almost be mistaken for disinterest. “Then cum for me Princess.” It didn’t take long after that. Three more passes from his expert fingers at most before you were overcome with euphoria. Fireworks pulsed through your core, making you far too hot and very sensitive all at once. All the while, Sukuna was finger fucking you through your high, watching as your face contorted with bliss. 

As you came down, you watched him slowly slip his fingers out of your sobbing cunt and into his mouth. He made the most obscene show of sucking his fingers clean, removing them after with a loud pop. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” He praised, taking your hand and helping you stand up, “Come on, you’re too pretty to be in this ugly dress.”

“Hey!” You protested, “The dress isn’t that bad!” 

“Yes it is.” He said, annoyance quickly mounting as he saw it was a button up back. “It hides you more than it compliments you.”

“Well that doesn’t-Ryomen!” You snapped at him as he ripped the back open, deciding that the buttons weren’t worth the time. “This dress is Fucking Expensive!” 

“Invoice me for it then,” he scoffed, turning you around to face him. He dropped the dress from your shoulders. “There you are,” He hummed, smiling as he pulled you into a fierce kiss. The anger that you held for him ruining the dress quickly dissipated as you melted into his warmth. Fuck it, he was right. It was an ugly fucking dress. 

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling you impossibly close. Your hands started to wander. You thought back to his tattoos, wondering about just where exactly they stopped. You found your way to the noticeable tent in his dress pants, grinding your palm against it and earning a deep groan from him. The sound went straight to your core, and suddenly it was the only thing you wanted to hear.

You fumbled with his belt, trying to get it undone while also focusing on your kiss. You didn’t get very far though before Ryomen brushed your hands away. He mumbled a soft ‘Fucks sake,’ before just undoing it himself, taking care of his button and zipper while he was at it. You were on your knees before he was finished, earning a smile and nod of approval.

“Well look at you Doll, pretty and smart.” He praised. You swallowed the air in your throat before reaching up to take him out. He sighed in relief once his cock wasn’t constrained anymore, and you bit your lip hard. If you were being honest, You had imagined Sukuna before. Late at night when your fiance was surly out with another woman, you found solace in daydreaming about what his rival's dick would be like. You had not imagined this. 

He was long and thick, almost intimidatingly so. Even at your most generous, you hadn’t imagined this. The tattoos also admittedly caught you off guard, the two black bands around his base standing out against his pale skin. But it worked for you. 

“Like what you see?” Ryomen smirked, never one to be shy. You felt embarrassment set a fire in your chest, despite the face you just looked him in the eyes while he finger fucked you into oblivion. Still, you nodded.

“Pretty cock.” Why was that what you thought to say!?

“Thanks, grew it myself.” He chuckled, his fingers falling to the back of your head, “I think it would look even prettier in your mouth though.” You didn’t need to be told twice. You licked your lips, wrapping your fingers around his base. You gave him a few experiential strokes, before taking the head into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him, eliciting a growl.

“Don’t fucking tease me Y/n.” He warned darkly. You decided to ignore his very clear warning, licking along one of his more prominent veins. You kissed the tip again, opening your mouth to try and suck on just the head again. That didn’t slide this time though, as Sukuna sunk his nails into your scalp and pushed you the rest of the way down his length. You gagged around him, drawing a satisfied moan from him as he fucked your throat.

You scrambled for a few seconds before finding your rhythm. Breathe through your nose, relax your throat, and in no time you were taking him like a champ. You looked up and felt your cunt clench at the sight before you. Ryomens head was thrown back, strands of hair sweat stuck to his forehead, and his eyes twisted shut in bliss. The dim lunar light casted an angelic halo on the sinful scene, and you wondered why you had’t fucked him sooner. 

“God, you feel so good.” He breathed out, “Satorus’ a goddamn moron for giving this up.” You weren’t sure if that was directed at you or not, but he was right, and you hummed your approval of the statement. You watched his jaw tighten as the vibrations ripped through him, followed by him pulling you off of his dick. He pulled you up and pushed you onto the bed, quickly crawling on top of you. He didn’t go to even part of that reception just to cum down your throat. He wanted everything you had to offer. You spread your legs for him as his fingers made their way back to your still dripping pussy. He started to work you open again, catching you in yet another passionate kiss. Satoru never kissed you like this.

“You’re fucking soaked still.” Ryomen noted, easily working you open for him. “Think you’re ready for me Doll?” You hummed your response, mentally preparing for this. He tsked at you. “With your words.” He said, the edge in his voice cutting through your brain fog.

“Yes.” You nodded, licking your dry lips. 

“Yes what?” His annoyance was getting more evident.

“Yes, I’m ready for you.” You whimpered. He finally nodded his approval.

“Good girl.” He said, before slowly pushing in. No matter how wet you were, you couldn’t have prepared yourself for this. You felt yourself being ripped apart at the seams, your cunt molding itself to him to accommodate. You took in a sharp breath as he let out a jagged one, hips faltering for just a second as he paused to let you adjust. 

“Jesus fucking christ you’re tight.” He groaned, getting lost in the way your velvety walls clenched around him and tried to pull him in further. You whined out in response.

“Ryo, I don’t think I can fit it all..” You admitted almost shamefully. 

“You can.” He assured you, pushing even further in, “You’re doing so good Princess.” You bit back a squeal, suddenly wanting nothing more than to make him proud. You let out an embarrassing moan as he finally pushed all the way in, but that's ok because he did too. For all the nights that he spent fucking his hand to the thought of you, nothing could have prepared him for how good you actually felt. 

He stilled for a minute, giving you time to fully adjust to his size. You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Ok, I’m ready..” You muttered. He chuckled darkly.

“Ready for what Doll?” He asked. You groaned, tired of his bullshit.

“Come on Ryo, please. You know what I want!” you whined.

“I do.” He confirmed, “And I want you to beg for it.” 

“Ryomen please!” you begged him, “Please, I need you to move. I need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore, I want to feel you ruin me. Make me your whore, please, I want to be destroyed.” GOD Ryomen was lucky he didn’t cum right then and there. That was so much hotter than he thought it would be, and you could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“If you insist.” He said, setting a brutal pace right off the bat and making you scream. “I’m going to mold this cunt to me, and me alone.” He growled into your ear, “When I’m done with you, I’m going to be the only man you’ll ever want again. No one will make you feel this good again.” He was probably right. The curve of his dick put it at the perfect angle to continuously massage your g-spot, overriding the slight discomfort of him fucking your cervix. He stretched you out so beautifully, you couldn’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this full ever again.

“Tell me, Does he fuck you like this?” he asked, tangling his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again. “Like the dirty whore you are?” you tried to shake your head no, but his grip was too tight.

“No, not nearly as good.” You whimpered, getting lost in the inferno of desire and pleasure that was overtaking you. Every thrust sent another shock wave of euphoria through you, the waves of bliss threatening to over take you with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to wreck this pussy?” You growled into your ear, “Ever since that motherfucker first brought you round us. Showing you off in that tight little skirt, flaunting you around like a brand new toy. I’ve thought of you every night since.” He said, folding you in half and wrapping your legs around his shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper into you, sending a new intense wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins and making you see stars.

“Four years is a long time to wait for something,” He mumbled, “But fuck me you’re so worth it. So much fucking better than my hand, or those bitches I’d pretend were you. Never been more thankful for that idiots' mistakes.” He laughed. You weren’t listening. You were driving at 140 miles per hour straight off a cliff and into a grave of dopamine and bliss. Your cunt clenched and wept around him, your orgasm coming faster than you wanted it to. 

“Ryomen, I’m so fucking close.” You whined, nearing the edge of the cliff.

“I know,” He huffed. He could feel it in the way you trembled around him, “Want you to come all over my cock. Come on, make a mess, pretty girl.” He purred, fingers finding your clit and massaging expert circles into it. That was it, the extra pleasure sending you over the edge. You felt like your soul left your body as stars exploded over your eyes. Your blood filled with euphoria, dopamine, and oxytocin. You felt your body stiffen and convulse around him as you were hit with wave after wave of pleasure. 

The way your cunt grabbed him like a vice, pulling him impossibly deeper, coupled with the intoxicating look on your face as you came brought him to his climax. He couldn't have pulled out if he wanted to (Is what he told himself) as he came deep inside you, overflowing your cunt and dripping onto the sheets. Everything stilled for the seconds that followed, both of you desperately trying to catch your breath.

He pulled out finally. He managed to roll to the side before he crumbled, collapsing next to you instead of on top of you. “Holy fuck,” He breathed out, basking in the afterglow with you.

“Holy fuck indeed.” You nodded, not knowing what else to really say. Gojos' sheets were definitely ruined. 

“And you mean to tell me he left you at the fucking altar?” Ryomen laughed in disbelief. “Talk about a fumble.”

“Well, to be fair, it’s never that good with him.” You admitted. You looked over to see Ryomens victorious grin.

“I believe that.” He muttered. Habit overtook you as you moved into the arms of your lover, resting your head on his chest to listen to his racing heart slowly return to normal. He didn’t move away, wrapping his arm around you instead. He kissed the top of your head. It was by far the most gentle act of the night. 

💒💒💒

Ryomen was gone when you woke up. You weren’t surprised, but you did find yourself disappointed, much to your further dismay. You weren’t expecting breakfast in bed or anything, but you were hoping he’d at least stick around long enough for a goodbye. Oh well, you knew what you were getting into when you decided to fuck him. And honestly, the last thing you needed right now was another playboy to fuck around with your heart.

You checked your phone and actually laughed. 12 missed calls and far too many texts, all from Gojo. It must have gotten back to him that you went home with Ryomen last night, and he was running himself ragged trying to “fix” his mistake. As if he could fix it. You deleted the voicemails along with the messages without reading them. You were about to put down your phone when a specific notification caught your eye. New Message, Sukuna. Never one to learn, you opened it immediately. 

Good morning beautiful. Sorry I left so early, work called. I’ll see you soon though ;) 

The sound that left you was truly embarrassing, but you didn’t care. You were ready to make a New Mistake.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Sweet Baby Dean Master List

He's-26-dude, he's like Dillinger or something, he's Batman, and he's adorable. This is a selection of my Kripke Era-esqe Dean Winchester fics.

Bad Girls Underneath - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle x Ruby

Summary: Ruby and Jojo get hit by a sex curse; this time, they need Dean’s help.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, magical-dick/male-gaze bullshit, probably too much commentary and emotional complication, why am I like this, I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself, fisting, brief choking

Words: 2,600

Combat Baby - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Dean’s sweet, but Jo likes him nasty

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, canon divergent, rough sex, dirty talk, brief name-calling, exhibitionism, role play, squirting

Words: 3K (incomplete)

Crazy On You - Dean Winchester x You (female reader)

Summary: You've had a shitty day, but this beautiful, unfamiliar boy will make it all better.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY Impala Sex, there’s a knife but not in a bloody way, anonymous sex

Words: 3,900

Custard Pie - Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Summary: @glassjacket asked: Yesssss, hellooo, do you do songfic? I submit: Dean / OFC based off of Led Zeppelin's 'Custard Pie.' Do with this what you must. Thanking you in advance.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY extensive cunnilingus, and some fun butt stuff

Words: 800

Deep - Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Summary: Dean shows her more about pleasure than ‘deep’.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, Dean being the best lay ever, biting, Dean being a fairytale prince, the jockey (or prone bone as dudes call it I guess) is my favorite sexual position (try it, it’s amazing), talking during sex, gratuitous use of terms of endearment bc it’s Dean

Words: 3K

A Fight for Love and Glory - Winchester Brothers x You (female reader)

Summary: You’re struck by sex pollen, and Sam and Dean agree to help you out.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, ass play, dirty talk

Words: 2K

Hide Your Love Away - Dean Winchester x You (female reader)

Summary: "Most hunters don’t kiss and tell; but if you bag a Winchester? You fucking tell."

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, thigh riding, ass play, Dean's really good at sex

Words: 3,00

Lasseiz Les Bon Temp Rouler - Dean Winchester x You (female reader)

Summary: He’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, dirty talk, drunk fingering (it's consensual) in a dirty public bathroom during Mardi Gras

Words: 650

Some Strangers Hands - 2009 Dean Winchester x 2014 Risa (The End)

Summary: He lost everything.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, plush pink pillow lips for Eloise

Words: 1,700

Stuff and Thangs That Are Awesome... and Not Awesome - Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Summary: @stunudo asked: Dean has been arrested twice for indecent exposure... Once was in a grocery store. Then @tumbler-tidbits asked: Jensen or Dean x Reader, small public place, He pins you to the wall, covers your mouth and fucks you.

Rating/warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, TWD crossover, wall sex, Rick Grimes eye-fucking, Shane Walsh having a pissing contest with SPN season 1-ish Dean Winchester

Words: 1,300

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 9: Empty Rescue

his and mine are the same | @cascigarette Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,510 Main Tags/Warnings: Post Canon Fix-It, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Alcohol, First Kiss, Newly Human Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use their Words Summary: Dean rescues Cas from the Empty. They end up having to talk about that final confession.

Two lesbians, two bicons, and their cat walk into super turbohell | @nuttysaladtree Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,038 Main Tags/Warnings: crossover with She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the Empty, Fix-it, first kiss Summary: And they bury one person and zero gays. 15x20 "Carry On" finale fix-it that Castiel deserves. Mentioned Bow/Glimmer. Sam Winchester shows up, too, as well as the OTP Dean x pie. Melog is best kitty, and good riddance to the Empty/Shadow/Cosmic Entity and Horde Prime.

sometimes you just don't know the answer (wait for me) | @cassiecasyl Rating: General Word Count: 7,992 Main Tags/Warnings: Canonical Character Death, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Grief/Mourning, Album: evermore (Taylor Swift), Grieving Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e18 Despair, Alternate Ending, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Reunion, Castiel in the Empty (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Angst, Hope vs. Despair, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired by Hadestown, Song: Doubt Comes In, The Fates (Hadestown) Cameo, First Kiss, Reunions, Epic Love Summary: As Dean grieves, Jack tells them of an old story, one that has been told and sung over and over again anyway. Two lovers challenge the universe to escape death. They walk the long way home, but the one in front is not allowed to turn around for the whole way. Every entity of grand power knows this, for the pact has to be respected were it ever to be attempted again. Of course, Dean goes to find Castiel, because if anyone can do this, it's them.

Can't Stop Lovin' You | @teeparadigm67 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9,512 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Happy Ending, Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty Summary: On paper, the plan seemed simple. Jack opens the portal between the worlds. Dean walks into the Empty and makes it loud enough to wake the dead. Drag Cas’s feathery ass out of there. Simple, right? Cloaked in Cas’s grace, tape deck in hand with Van Halen blasting out its little speaker, he plans to bring the angel home and tell Cas all the things left unspoken between them for all these years. Now they have a chance, he can’t throw this all away. The only problem is, the Empty has other ideas. It doesn't stop Dean however, it’s his turn to be the one who drags Cas out of perdition. Inspired by: Van Halen - Can't Stop Lovin' You

Bring Me To Life | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,960 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Smut, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Calls Castiel "Angel", Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Castiel (Supernatural), Interrupting Sam Winchester Summary: In 2008 Dean Winchester met a man who changed everything; he says a man, Castiel Angel of the Lord was so much more than a man and not just because of the whole halo and wings thing. November 5th 2020 Castiel sacrificed himself to save Dean and by extension the world, but not before turning the hunter's life upside down one last time. In 2025 Dean was... moving on, let's put it that way. He hadn't forgotten Cas, spending the past five years trying to be all the things the Angel said he was in that teary goodbye. He put one foot in front of the other, day by day, because as Frank Devereaux once said: 'that's what you do'. This life only ends one way for most hunters though and Dean was no exception. Skip four months into the future and he's back, only this time he's done playing by the rules, done pretending his life didn't end with Cas that day in the dungeon. He's done. Time to do what he should have from the beginning...

stay | @thisisapaige Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,073 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Post-Canon, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Light Angst, Happy Ending Summary: Standing on the bridge beside his brother, Dean looks around. Something’s wrong. Because this Heaven, this place Dean supposedly deserves, just seems so... empty.

The Little Issue with the Mission to Perdition | @amaranthhiding Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,460 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 15x19, Jack and Amara Try Fixing Things Together But Make Everything Worse (at first), Amara is Part of Team Free Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Major Character Death, Angst with Happy Ending, First Kiss, DCRB 2023 Summary: Chuck is defeated and his power now belongs to Jack and Amara. They struggle with adjusting to their newly-shared existence, and with big questions such as, how can (almost) all-powerful beings avoid becoming what Chuck was? What even is all that power good for when it doesn't allow Jack to save someone from the Empty who absolutely deserves being saved? Who thought it was a good idea to hand all that power to two beings who, together, have spent less years on Earth than the average human child? ...And why is there suddenly black goo everywhere?

Until the Moss Had Reached Our Lips | @alulangel Rating: Mature Word Count: 20,543 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Lake House, Saved from the Empty, Groundhog Day Loop, Castiel’s True Form, Castiel’s handprint, Creepy forests, Inappropriate use of pie Summary: After everything with Chuck went down, Dean thought he deserved some time off. Not a retirement, just a break. A little cabin by a lake. Fishing. Baking. Time to process and reflect. Except he doesn't remember exactly how he got there. And he doesn't know why he can't leave. And there's something about the woods around the cabin, creeping closer and closer and closer every day...

one working part | @mittensmorgul Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,051 Main Tags/Warnings: Inspired by It's a Wonderful Life (1946) Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural) Angst and Fluff and Smut POV Alternating Not Canon Compliant with Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural), Human Castiel Summary: Wherein they actually inherit the earth. Again. Because I will never be done retelling the end of their story in more sensible and satisfying ways. This time, via the power of a classic holiday film... with a slightly demonic twist.

Empty Earth (WIP) | @amaranthhiding Rating: No Rating Word Count: 102,437 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-15x18, Epic, Plotty, Angel True Forms, Consensual Possession, Enochian, Apocalypse, Rebellion in Hell, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Witch!Sam, Destiel and Samwena, Jack & his three fathers, Crowley & Jack Summary: After Castiel's confession, Dean carries a spark of hope telling him this can't be the end. This spark is the strongest weapon for Dean, Sam and Jack in this final war. The enemy is God. The battlefield is an Earth devoid of humans, a Hell in rebellion against its queen, and a Heaven betrayed by its creator. And the stakes are everything and everyone they have ever cared about.

[catofoldstones]

modern sansa: is into embroidery and knitting, is class valedictorian and gets teased about being a nerd (girl knows her history facts ok) but that’s ok because she’s more concerned about growing the readership on her poetry blog anyway, she has been paying the piano since she was 7 but now it just gathers dust in the family living room, she plays volleyball in school and may have “accidentally” hit Joffrey Baratheon in the face with one. adult sansa works as a writer for a fashion house, hosts a true crime podcast with her friend, Jeyne Poole, but they can’t retain listeners because they go into gratuitous detail about the gore, and hides her mills & boon behind her stack of fashion magazines. Has better relationship with Arya now

modern arya: 100% went through an emo phase because Jon went through an emo phase. Likes to hang out with Hot Pie and Gendry rather than the prissy idiots who go to her private school, she plays the electric guitar and that irritates the living hell out of her sister, she is on the football team and has ended multiple careers right on that field and we support that for her, is a tomboy through and through and an unflinching feminist (fuck you game of thrones) adult arya is a war-time reporter

Jon- needless to say, went through an emo phase. Is an accountant now for an oil oligarch whom he hates with all his might. Went to the same private school as the starks. Was captain of the football team (worst years of his life) but was voted out and hasn’t recovered since. Haggles at the farmer’s market and has a hard time not pissing off Gilly. Developed a pretty solid relationship with sansa as they grew up, to everyone’s surprise

Rickon- likes to bite people

[syd-djarin]

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter one: the new neighbors

*18+ Minors DNI*

Word count: ~2000+

Warnings: FLUFF, nervous reader, a hint of masturbation (f & m), neighbor!joel needs a warning, eventual smut

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

Author/s Notes: this is my first fic, so ofc I had to write Joel, and I have a weakness for neighbor!Joel.

this will be a series and I'm so excited to share this :) this is super self-indulgent, making reader based off myself so shameless self-insert kinda? lol

a huge thank you & ily to my babe @katiexpunk for helping me make edits/bouncing ideas and encouraging me to dive into writing <3

Tags: no outbreak AU, neighbor!joel, reader is sweetie pie, age gap (reader is mid-late 20's, joel is late 30's-early 40's in this), dilf!joel, gratuitous descriptions of joel being strong & sexy, f & m masturbation, eventual smut, fluff

AUSTIN, TX  OCT 2005

You’ve lived in this neighborhood for the majority of your life, with the exception of your time in college.

Now that you’ve finished your undergrad, your parents, now retired and living in Maine, have graciously offered for you to stay in your childhood home. It wouldn’t be forever, you think, just until something comes through for you to use your degree on.

The neighborhood hasn’t changed that much through the years; some of the houses got renovations or additions, although many of the homes were the same that they have always been. Many of the people living in the cul-de-sac had known you since you were just a baby, and like to remind you of that more often than you’d like. 

Occasionally a home would go up for sale, and it just so happened that the house directly across the street from yours was one of them – a classic blue Ranch style home, well maintained, albeit a bit outdated, but full of potential. The previous owners lived there for nearly four decades, and the entire neighborhood is antsy to solve the mystery of who’ll move in next.  

You had assumed that the next tenants would be another nuclear family type – the stereotypical, American family - husband, wife, two kids, the works. Much to your surprise, a single father and his daughter were the succeeding residents of the house. A ruggedly handsome single father, at that. 

+++

Move in day came for your new neighbors and just like everyone else who resided here, you couldn’t help but to be nosy, curiosity getting the best of you. 

You discreetly parted your living room blinds, your curiosity at its peak, as your new neighbors began unloading the hefty boxes from their U-Haul and settling into their new abode. You even went to check the mail to get a closer peek, despite having already checked it earlier in the day when it arrived.

You couldn’t help but ogle at the broad-shouldered man lifting boxes as if they weigh nothing. His dark gray t-shirt clings to his biceps for dear life and you feel your pussy involuntarily throb every time he lifts up the bottom of it, bringing it to his forehead to wipe the sweat collecting there, each time revealing his soft tummy and the dark hair that trailed down from his belly button. 

You imagine yourself holding onto those brawny arms, while he pounds- 

Oh my god, get a grip, you internally chastise yourself. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten laid, defending yourself for conjuring up dirty fantasies of a man whose name you didn’t even know. 

You decided you’d go introduce yourself once it appeared that they’d finished unloading the moving truck, not wanting to disrupt or cause an intrusion. 

Baking being one of your love languages, you decide to make your new neighbors your grandma's famous cookies – snickerdoodles and chocolate chip. The recipes don’t call for much, but your grandma swears it’s the love that goes into them that makes them as good as they are. She had taught you to bake at a young age; ensuring you knew the fundamentals, techniques, and the importance of quality ingredients.  She also taught you that the best gift you could give is a dessert, one that requires your time and attention. 

Besides wanting to be a welcoming neighbor, baking provides you with a necessary distraction to your nefarious thoughts about the new neighborhood DILF. Were these cookies for him, sure, but it proved to be quite a successful deterrent from your naughty thoughts, allowing you the space to fully engross yourself in the task of making the dough, folding in the chocolate chips, rolling the batches into little balls, and spacing them out evenly on the tray before popping them in the oven. 

After a couple of hours, the cookies now cool, and the warm autumn sun begins to set. Your home smells of warm sugar, a nostalgia that brings a smile to your face. You peek out the window and notice the moving truck is now gone, and figure now was as good a time as any to introduce yourself. 

You neatly package the goodies into their designated container, draw on your oversized flannel and shoes, and begin your brief trek across the street. As you begin walking down your porch steps you’re hit with a wave of nervousness,  your stomach does backflips and your heart beats faster. Get it together. You take several deep breaths and hold onto the cookie container a little tighter before continuing on your mission. Why are you such a nervous wreck? I mean, it’s just some guy, you (unsuccessfully) try to reason with yourself. 

Reaching the front door, you knock– tap, tap, tap. A brief moment passes, and the door opens, leaving only the space of the doorframe between you and a young girl with wide, curious eyes and beautiful curly brown hair staring back at you.

“Hi there, I’m your neighbor across the street,” you say, gesturing towards your own home, “I wanted to introduce myself – I brought you some cookies, just a little something to say welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Cookies! Ah sweet, I love cookies - what kind?” she asks, not at all trying to hide her fairly obvious interest for them and less in you.

“There’s chocolate chip and a few snickerdoodles,” you reply, giving her an amused smile. 

Her father, the devastatingly handsome one, makes his way up behind her and stands in the doorframe, halfway inside and halfway onto the porch where you stand. He was a sight to behold up close: dark hair that had a loose curls and a beard, both lightly dusted with some grays, chocolate brown eyes you could drown in, a mustache that perched atop plush lips. 

He’s muscled in the shoulders and arms, which act as a nice compliment to his soft torso. He had the kind of  physique that came from hard labor, which only fuels your attraction to him more. 

If this were a cartoon, you were sure your eyes would be bulging out of their sockets in the shape of hearts. 

“Oh, uh–hi,” you say, perhaps an octave too loud. “I was telling your daughter here that I brought over some cookies, you know, as a welcome gift,” you pause, realizing you hadn’t even introduced yourself. “I’m your neighbor, I live just across the way,” you say, nodding to your house. You turn back to face him and fidget with your hair. Through a nervy smile, you manage to give him your name. 

“I’m Joel, this here’s Sarah,” he says, voice gruff and smooth at the same time. He holds out his hand to shake yours. You hope he wouldn’t notice how sweaty your hand is; maybe it’s the nerves, or the still-sticky Texan air, despite it being October. Probably both.  

His palm is warm; worn and calloused in some places, but firm and inviting. You couldn’t help but gawk at how small he made your hand feel in his. He releases your grip; bringing you out of your brief trance, and your eyes once again meet. 

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Joel and Sarah,” you smile and hold out the container of cookies for Joel to take. Before he can even reach up to grab them, Sarah already has her hands on them and has run back into the house, murmuring something that sounds like thanks as she does. 

He had just met you, but Joel couldn’t deny how much he likes hearing you saying his name in your gentle, nectarous voice. 

Your hands now empty, you nervously interlace your fingers and twirl your thumbs, unsure of what to say next. Joel’s eyes take note of the smudge of flour on your cheek – cute. He also notices the flour in the cleft of your cleavage, but he tries not to make that fact obvious. The flour between your breasts stares back at him, but he collects his composure, averting his gaze back to you.  He should point it out to you, he thinks, but you seem shy and he doesn’t want to embarrass you, or scare you away from wanting to come over again. 

“‘Preciate the cookies, sweetheart,” he says, voice low. His eyes stay glued to your face. You avert your eyes downwards and cross your arms, buckling under the weight of his gaze. You felt your cheeks and chest grow hot at his use of sweetheart. 

“I’m just – uh,” you trip over your words, nervous, “I’m just across the street if you need me,” you offer, giggling at the suggestive way that sounds, “you know, like a cup of sugar or anything like that,” you add.

Joel nods in reply, edges of his mouth coming up in a smirk as if to acknowledge your kindness, being careful not to full on grin in amusement of his apparent effect on you. 

“Same to you,” he says before closing the door, perhaps eyeing you a moment too long as you walk away. He turns to enter the house, only to find Sarah staring at him, cookie in hand, and a knowing grin on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell her she had flour all over herself?” she asks, teasing, like she could already tell he was embarrassed to admit the truth. 

“Did she? Hmm, didn’t seem to notice,” he says, trying to hide the lie behind a weak cough, before walking away, cheeks obviously flushed. 

Back in the safety of your own home, you come to a still with your hand pressing on the door, reeling from your interaction with Joel. You were wired up, buzzing with arousal and nerves. 

And God, the way he called you sweetheart. 

You replay the moment over and over in your head, not wanting to forget his Texan twang or the way he looked at you when he said it. You could have died, right then and there. You let your mind run wild, thinking of all the things you wanted to do with him, what you wanted to do to him. 

Needing to relieve the throbbing ache in between your legs, you decide a shower is in order. When stepping into your bathroom, you catch yourself in the mirror. You were mortified at the discovery of the flour on your face and chest. You had been so engrossed with baking the cookies and too anxious about taking them over to Joel’s that you failed to give yourself a once-over in the mirror before heading out the door. The arousal you felt temporarily held precedent, you’d process your embarrassment later. 

You step into the steamy shower and touch yourself, thinking of Joel. You shove two fingers inside your pussy, imagining they were Joel’s long, thick, dexterous fingers. 

Little did you know Joel was having his own feelings about your little introduction. 

Several of his new neighbors come to introduce themselves in the coming days, under the guise of welcoming him and his daughter, but in reality, they wanted to get scoop on who they were. Where had they moved from, what prompted the move, we’re they planning on staying short-term, what did he do for a living, was there a Mrs. Joel Miller? And once they found out he was a contractor, there were a whole other set of questions of “would you mind taking a look at my ____”. 

He liked the neighborhood, and while the people were nice and seemingly mean well, Joel begins to feel irritation at the consistently prying questions, annoyed that people felt like they were entitled answers to begin with. 

But you. 

He was not expecting you. 

Beautiful, endearing, kind eyes, a smile he thought could end wars. You had been sweet and respectful, and didn't appear to have ulterior motives. It made his heart palpitate and sent blood rushing somewhere he knew it shouldn’t. You were young, too young and sweet, too sweet for a man like him. 

Then he saw how you stared at his hands, grew warm and shy when his gaze had lingered too long on you. 

That night, with Sarah tucked into bed, he grabs one of the snickerdoodle cookies, Sarah insisting that he save all of the chocolate chip ones for her, but he doesn’t mind; snickerdoodles are his favorite. 

He bites into the soft cookie, his eyes fluttering shut as he does, an involuntary reaction to the sweet, perfectly soft texture. He lets out a moan, the kind that is elicited when tasting something delicious. 

And the fact that you made them? The thought sends blood straight to his dick. 

Joel, in inner turmoil, was trying to resist the temptation to touch himself to the thought of you. God, if your cookies were this good, so sweet and fluffy, how good would you taste. 

The thought consumes him, the temptation too strong. 

He polishes off more than three of the cookies, before heading to shower. That night he takes his cock in his fist to the thought of you, and your stupidly delicious fucking cookies. 

Joel was a gentleman, sure, but he was also a man. 

And the best way to get to a man’s heart? 

Through his stomach. 

THE END

[peppermintbruja]

Better Than The Last Slice Of Pie

So I have been writing this sweet, yet spicy little Resident Alien love story for the last two weeks and it's finally finished. I'm not going to lie finishing this one feels a little bittersweet now that it's over but I might just write another story with Asta and Harry if people enjoy the idea of more.

Premise: Harry comes down with a mysterious illness. Though Asta tries to comfort him and nurse him through the sickness, will her actions doom their friendship forever? Or will something new and exciting grow in its wake?

Warnings: A lot of smut and gratuitous alien sex it's a slow but well worth burn. Asta x Harry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64897048

[hopefromadoomedtimeline]

‼️ITS🍗 SPANKSGIVING 🍂 BITCHES‼️On this day 🗓 many years ago 😮 the SLUTTY 👠 PILGRIMS 🎩 sailed ⛵️ across the ASSlantic 🌊 HOEcean in a quest 👀to find 🔎 more 😍 COCKS 🍆 to SUCK! 👅 Together with the 😈 NAUGHTY 😈 NATIVES 👹, they gathered 👫 around the dinner table 🍽 and had 🎉 our nation’s very 1️⃣st GANG BANG! 👯‍♀️👯👯‍♂️ We honor 🙌🏻 their ORGY 😮 every year 📆 by giving THANKS 🙏🏼 to all 🥰 that’s important ❤️ to us: Family 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦, Friends 👬, Freedom 🇺🇸, and DICK! 🍆🌽👅 So grab your BUNS, 🍞✊👉👌squeeze those BREASTS, 🍗🔥🤲 and shove a cornaCOPIOUS 🌽🌽 amount of DICK 🍆 😩 into that hungry 😮 hungry HOLE! 🕳💓👅 Ladies 👯‍♀️, just like your 🦃 THOTSgiving 🦃 turkey, it’s time ⏰ to throw your legs 🤸🏼‍♀️in the air 🤸🏼‍♀️and prepare to get ➡️ STUFFED 🙀!

After dinner,🍴it’s time 😮 for CUMPKIN PIE!! 🥧 Show Daddy 👨🏽‍🦳 how 🙏🏼 thankful 🙏🏼 you are and LICKK 😛 his WishBONE 🦴 until he gets as HARD 🏔as PlyMOUTH rock ⛰ and shoots 💦 his HOMEADE GRAVY 🥣! 👅 Midnight 🌙 starts 😈 BLACK ⬛️ FRIDAY 🛍 so send 📤 this to 🔟 THOTS 💁🏻‍♀️you are thankful 🙏🏼 for! If you get 0️⃣ back, sail 🔙 to England 🖕🏻🤮 If you get 5️⃣ back, you’ll be getting your corn 🌽 CREAMED 😋🥰. Get 🔟 back or more, and the 🙀 BIGGEST, 🙀 GIRTHIEST, BLACK⚫️ FRIDAY 🍆 COCK 😱 is CUMMING 💦YOUR WAY AT MIDNIGHT 🙀😍🙀😍🙀😍

This is... a lot to take in.

It's sudden, and gratuitously vulgar, and there are many things he simply doesn't understand the meaning of (Thotsgiving? and there was something about the use of the word daddy that made him uneasy), but it seemed like a bunch of nonsense... Or a very strangely worded threat.

Even if this wasn't the strangest thing he had ever heard, it was definitely in the top three. But if he learned anything, it was best not to react to this, and trying to rattle his brain as to what he was expected to do was only give him a headache. So he's just going to slowly.... go on his business. And maybe forget he ever heard this.

[hylianengineer]

Inspired by that "classic books that are actually fun" post, I bring you a list of plays and musicals that are also really fun:

Head Over Heels - it's like a really queer parody of those classic fairytale fantasy worlds, to music by the GoGos. It's got crossdressing-and-realizing-you're-genderqueer, gay romance, and confusing prophecies that get disastrously, hilariously misunderstood.

Airness - delightful rock semi-musical about an air guitar championship, and friendships made along the way. The characters stole my heart and refused to give it back.

Something Rotten - a Shakespearean love letter to musicals. Hysterically funny, utterly ridiculous, with more of those prophetic misunderstanding shenanigans.

Come From Away - a musical about the 38 airplanes and 7,000 passengers who made an unexpected visit to the small town of Gander, Canada during 9/11 because American Airspace got shut down. A bittersweet, feel-good story about how the worst events can bring out the best in people.

A Midsummer Night's Dream - this is just crack. 400 year old crack hidden behind the confusion that is Shakespearean English. It's got fairies, magic, misunderstandings, romance, and a lot of goofy shenanigans. Read the modern english translation alongside the original if you're intimidated by trying to parse Shakespeare - that's what I do, it works great.

Labyrinth of Desire - another medieval fantasy world romance that goes very, very sideways. Also with crossdressing disguises, gay love, and pop music. Hey, why are there so many of these?

Sweeney Todd - it's a classic for a reason. Half horror, half comedy, with gratuitous violence and characters that are all delightfully fucked up. A barber returns to his former home seeking revenge against the corrupt judge responsible for his wife's death and daughter's kidnapping - then his murder spree gets interrupted by the local pie shop owner who has a crush on him and wants to turn a profit by selling murder-victim-pie. It only gets more unhinged from there.

Collective Rage: A Play In Five Betties - this is a love letter to theatre, and to art in general. And if you ever wanted a musical number sung by a talking vagina, well, this is the play for you. Five women from very different walks of life, all named Betty, find themselves planning to perform a play together while processing their feelings about their lives, relationships, sexualities, bodies, and the world at large. Revelations are had. Things go off the rails. Personal growth occurs. And it's very, very queer.

[starshifter]

All the additional notes I wrote for myself for 'my hopes the wind done scattered' that are too amusing/potentially interesting for me to just throw them away. Think of it as bonus material. Very messily formatted bonus material

-

Honestly, the idea for this came from a list of prompts for malevolent mermay 2023. Sadly, I had not yet heard of this fandom at that time so im paticipating late ok …and without any mers. I do not control the way prompts get interpreted. I just write. Sometimes. (the prompt in question was leviathan)

Yes I’m aware canon KIY is probs around 11 ft but I’m making him better ok. It’s what he deserves

Look, Cthulhu is like a mile tall and he’s (probably) Hastur’s half brother so why is Hastur so fucking tiny in comparison? No. No, I am fixing this

My first idea for a possible title was Arthur Dreamhouse so that’s a thing

He has his full powers back if he’s fully integrated. Have him fetch Arthur via a dream. Pull him out of a dream about the Pits while sleeping in that little cabin. He can heal Arthur’s legs in the process since this is an Arthur doesn’t flip that coin AU so Kayne hasn’t healed him. (How long has he been in that cabin then? And how bad off is he health wise? You got a lot to fucking fix here Hastur)

This is honestly just Rascal Arthur: the fic. He just doesn't like being told what to do. Haha (i swear kayne brain is contagious)

King tore john out because reintegrating them was changing him and he was scared of what he was becoming, in canon this results in dark world 2: electric boogaloo, in this au he decides being broken is worse

For emotional whiplash, please imagine King walking around like this: https://www.tumblr.com/without-ado/724427056746807296/cutie-pie-of-the-sea-x (if you actually want to know how I was imagining him moving tho, look up videos of feather stars swimming, it’s the closest thing I can compare it to, except he’s not feather star shaped but rather a creature of cloth and shadows and tentacles sort of, depends how much body he’s manifesting on a given plane of reality at any given time)

Schrodinger’s body: It’s there and it isn’t there but you can’t tell which because there’s a yellow cloak in the way

Hint: they are not fingers. The king does not have hands

Me, who has never touched vicuna wool in my life: what if I gave the king some sort of dreamlands vicuna wool equivalent for his cloak? Cue me staring at images of clothes I cant even afford to touch and trying to decide what they would feel like: hmm, it’s probably soft but silken doesnt seem right at all, better not use that word

Arthur gets re-traumatized and then gratuitously pampered: the fic

The King casually failing to mention that the mosaic in the center depicts him. Arthur wasn’t ready for that knowledge yet 😔

The dancers (at least in this fic, i have so many different ideas i want to explore for the dancers) are a bit like living puppets. They were made from the King’s power and they took on some degree of life due to it, but they’re still an extension of his will. So the laughing…. Was just the King laughing cause Arthur is ridiculous and adorable. Also up for debate if they actually looked away or just moved back a bit. What are boundaries to a god?

The dancers are made of a material that can best be described as elastic ceramic. Yes I don't know what that means either but I know in my heart it is true. I also imagine them walking in permanent pointe, because that's how their ankles work. They also have knife fingers. But they were being nice to Arthur so he didn't really notice

My friend pointed out that Arthur could have been using fancy wine as soap and my fucking god y’all I missed a golden opportunity there

It’s not a guest room, Arthur. Arthur, it’s a harem room for artists. Arthur.

The fabric wrapped around Arthur's arm is actually a part of the King's body. His mantle is part of him and the tattered ends of it work like fabric tentacles

And then arthur continues to fail to reconcile john being the king in yellow because wow that boy is stubborn and really needs to believe john is different in order to function. He’ll get there eventually

Athur’s so desperate not to be alone that he’d do anything, accept almost anything, as long as he can keep his loved ones close and alive. Absolutely delicious

I had to actively fight with myself not to put a “big, am I?” joke there at the end. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice

Hastur never actually gave Arthur his name. Dumbass

[stonyauniverse]

July 20th - August 19th

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Thanks as always to our lovely fanart mod, @suchmadnesss, for the fanart in our banner!

Without further ado, come peruse our bingo-goers wonderful creations!

There he was, like double cherry pie by Wolfsheart

Rated: T

Tags: May Parker (brief), James Rhodey Rhodes (mention), Pepper Potts (mention), Referenced Bobby Drake, Referenced Xavier School for the Gifted, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Minor Bucky Barnes/Loki, Minor Bruce Banner/Thor, Minor Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Minor Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bakery Shop Owner Loki, Bakery Shop Owner Bucky Barnes, Coffee/Tea Shop Owner Clint Barton, Coffee/Tea Shop Owner Natasha Romanoff, Bookshop Owner Thor, High School Science Teacher Bruce Banner, Food Porn, Food, Dessert & Sweets, Gratuitous descriptions of pastries and pies, 5 times + 1 time, Artist Steve Rogers, Cake artist Steve Rogers, Mechanic Tony Stark

Summary: Five times Tony comes into the bakery to flirt with Steve, and the one time Steve goes to the garage to flirt with Tony.

Teacher, Teacher, Can You Reach Me? by @polizwrites

Rated: G

Tags: No Powers AU, Teacher AU pre-serum Steve, artist!Steve, young!Tony, Tony&Rhodey BroTP, Dares and Bets

Summary: After spotting a flyer at a new coffee shop, Rhodey dares Tony to attend a Sip and Sketch class; turns out the twinky blond barista is also the class instructor.

You Live Like This? by Sayah1112

Rated: E

Tags: Rape/Non-con elements, Mob boss Steve Rogers, Twink Tony, Angst, Face Fucking, Forced Blowjob, Mob AU, Non-consensual bondage, Blackmail, Humiliation, Enemies to lovers, Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Howard Starks A+ parenting

Summary:

Mob-AU in which Steve Rogers in the head of the organized crime ring known as the Avengers. They rule New York with an iron fist and a take-no-prisoners attitude. Howard Stark has been getting in his way, bungling his deals, and selling SI weapons on the black market to the Avenger's enemies. Not to mention he is actively helping the police track down and capture his people. Steve can't let that stand. What better way to get back at man then to capture his only son?

Tony is out of the frying pan and into the fire. Living under an alias in a rundown apartment in Brooklyn, it's been a little over a month since he escaped out from beneath the press of his father's thumb. Disowned for the crime of being gay, Tony has been flying under the radar and trying to keep a low profile. That is, until he is captured by his father's enemies. They want their money back, and someone is going to pay.

Tony knows it won't be Howard.

I born in a messed up century by Hadrian

Rated: G

Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: Steve shouldn't be surprise: human never change.

Or, maybe, they can still surprise you, in their own way

A Cure for Every Ailment by @kandisheek

Rating: E

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Sounding, Doctor Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers

Summary: Doctor Stark is testing his new experimental treatment for erectile dysfunction on a group of volunteers. It works very well on Steve Rogers. Just not for the reason Tony thinks.

Or: Tony doesn't realize that sounding is a kink, and Steve never knew he had it.

The Quest by @scottxlogan

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe, Treasure Hunting, Archaeologist Steve, Swearing, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Implied/Referenced Sex

Summary: Archaeologist Steve Rogers finds himself in the thick of danger and adventure after teaming up with his former mentor's son and current sidekick Tony Stark to chase down a rare treasure set to unlock all of humanity's mysteries along the way.

Shape of My Soulmate by @sivan325

Rated: M

Tags: Alternate Universe, Art Professor Tony Stark, Nude Model Steve Rogers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Blushing Steve Rogers, Sorry Not Sorry, Fluff and Crack

Summary: Soulmate AU in which you could draw your soulmate's body before you know them.

Nowhere Near as Fun as it Sounds by ABrighterDarkness

Rated: T

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Body Swap, Enhanced Senses/Over-sensitivity, Minor Character Injury

Summary: “You’ve never said anything. At all. To anyone,” Tony blurted, the words and realizations that smacked him straight in the face in the most bizarre way possible. Mid-mission, at that. Terrible timing. But…he felt like this was one of those things he should have somehow already known. Something he’d have somehow already addressed and fixed. And not just because he was the one that was now suffering from the lack of knowledge.

“Neither have you,” Steve said, quiet and solemn.

Out with the Old by @scottxlogan

Rated: M

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Non-serum Steve, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, New Year's Eve, New York City, Dirty Talking Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Swearing, Sexual Content, Alcohol, Hook-Up, Hopeful Ending

Summary: AU: Alone on New Year's Eve in 1989 in New York City, Tony decides to go all out in throwing a solo party for himself until sexy cashier Steve offers him a better alternative to a night of drunken loneliness.

The Journey by @scottxlogan

Rated: E

Tags: Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Anniversary, Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom Tony Stark, Light BDSM, Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Restraints, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Role Playing, Dirty Talk, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Pole Dancing

Summary: Steve and Tony decide to take a special trip for their anniversary together. To spice things up they decide to gift each other a vacation with Bucky who is ready and willing to be what they need to make their anniversary even more memorable. Will it prove to be exactly what they needed to strengthen their marriage or will they find something more in their playtime with Bucky?

The Iron Captain by @kandisheek-art

Rated: G

Tags: Movie Poster, Old Hollywood

Summary: Tony and Steve star in Nick Fury's new movie.

All the World Below Me by Steph

Rated: T

Tags: no triggers or warnings

Summary: The trio finally has a chance to talk about some cultural (and biological) differences

Just like that...Back To Love by @scottxlogan

Rated: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Idiots in Love, Feelings Realization, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Swearing, Light Angst

Summary: Super spy Steve Rogers reflects on the mission he and his work partner/on and off lover Tony Stark put behind him and what it means to their future moving forward where matters of the heart are concerned.