#i sped through my homework to do this not sure if it's past your bday but still happy birthday

[writeshite]

Could I request some Arthur Curry fluff+smut? He and the reader have known each other forever, and have always been best friends. They often flirt, protect each other and have that ‘will-they-won’t-they’ vibe, but nothing happens for years despite people always thinking they’re a couple. Reader’s birthday comes and he has a little celebration, though he and Arthur go off on their own to enjoy the rest of the night. They’re having a walk by a beach and Arthur stops them to confess his feelings, and he’s thrilled the reader feels the same. They kiss before things get heated but they find a little cave nearby to take things further, where they start off slow and sweet and end it pretty rough. Aftercare and cuddles would be great as well🤍 a bitch’s birthday is approaching, and Arthur is very much underrated so, why not kill two birds with one stone?

Deeply Loved

Summary:

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” you tease.  “I’d rather have the real thing,” he says. “Who wouldn’t?” you quip.

Pairings:

Arthur Curry x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Smut | Confessions Of Feelings | Flirting

Words: 1343

Author's Note:

Firstly, Happy Birthday, congratulations on another year around the sun, and I agree, Arthur is underrated and deserves more fanfic.

“Guess who?”

You grin; an equally excited laugh accompanies the familiar hands over your eyes; when you turn, you smile even wider; Arthur greets you as he always does - arms lifting you in the air as he turns on the spot - much to the amusement of everyone else. When he settles you back on the ground, he kisses your forehead, “Look at you, ageing like fine wine, huh?”

“Your one to talk,” you say, “I see the ocean has done wonders.” You gesture to his being, and he chuckles. “Glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

‘It’ being the get-together at Arthur’s lighthouse, his father had so graciously offered to host your birthday party, and his mother had been equally ecstatic to meet you - having heard the word on you and Arthur being idiots in love. A bonfire had been set far from the tides, tables were set up on the walkway close to the lighthouse, and people from town had joined in celebrating, bringing their best wishes - and food. He places his arm around your shoulder, and you lean into him - touch being an ever-important factor between the two of you - when the side-hug passes, his arm settles loosely above your waist.

“Arthur,” Atlanna’s voice rang out; she rushed towards him, enveloping him in her arms; Thomas wasn’t far behind; as Arthur spoke with her, Thomas tilted his head towards him. With the familiar pointed look on his face, you scrunched your face and shrugged. He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he took a sip of his beer - he’s always been the most vocal on you and Arthur. Having spent hours watching the two of you run circles around him, spend countless summers along the beach, and that’s not even to mention the constant flirting or the times Arthur would flop onto your couch after a mission and curl up on your lap.

Atlanna liked to speak to him in Atlantean - despite his own fledgling grasp on the language - he responded in kind. Arthur glances up at you every so often in their conversation - a mischievous smile on his face - you stick your tongue out at him in turn, and he can’t help but laugh. His hair hangs loosely over his shoulders, tucked back behind one ear; the evening is warm, and like many, his clothes reflect that - a dark shirt, jeans, and a simple woolly overcoat. When they finish speaking, Atlanna and Thomas wish you happy birthday again, and you’re left to Arthur’s company. He takes your hand and points to the beach - away from the bonfire - you follow along, kicking sand lightly as you stroll.

Your arms swing along, and when the music from the party transitions to something more calming, he takes a moment to add dancing to your walk. You turn in his arms, hand above your head; Arthur dips you low, pulling you back up; your laughter rings out as he repeats the motion; on one such dip, he pulls you up too fast, and you crash into each other, toppling over in a flurry of limbs and giggles. You lay side by side on the sand; Arthur sits up, leaning against his arm, as he gazes at you.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” you jest. 

“I’d rather have the real thing,” he says.

“Who wouldn’t?” you quip.

He pinches your arm, and you flick sand at him, he turns away, and you stand, making a mad dash before he can exact revenge. You hear him behind you; he catches your arm and drags you back to him, holding you close to him; you note on that, a teasing tone to your words. It doesn’t goad him on as his grip grows secure, and he lifts his hand to hold your face. Your still merry chuckles drift between you as his head comes to rest against yours; every word he tries to say gets interrupted by either him or you; you try to stop yourself but then end up bursting into laughter again. The two of you stand in the moonlight, eyes crinkled in delight, the words jumble into nonsense when the laughter resurfaces again, and he groans, “Ah, shit.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you quiet down, putting on a mock-serious face, “you wanted to say something.” You’re holding in your laughter when you crack up again; Arthur just leans forward, tilting his head and placing his lips against yours; it does the trick, and a sound of surprise comes from you before your silenced. When he draws back, you’re stunned into silence, he tries to speak again, but you move forward, another peck on his lips; it’s an exchange of kisses, both of you interrupting the other before they can speak. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me,” you joke.

“Gee, what gave you that idea?”

You shrug, “Just a hunch.” You wind your arms around his neck, “Any chance there’s more to this birthday present?” He untangles himself from you, taking you by the hand once more; he leads you further along the beach. Your pace slightly quicker, you tumble into him, nearly falling over again, and you sneak away into an alcove. A soft patch of sand, surrounded by rock, the entrance is turned towards the ocean, secluding the inside away from prying eyes. The ocean filters into the space slowly, trailing up briefly to the sand; once you’re in the alcove, you bring Arthur’s lips back to yours.

Secluded from others now, your hands come up to his hair, running through them as he holds onto your waist, drifting under your shirt; he draws back to tug it off you. His jacket gets shrugged off, and more clothes follow; you think something falls into the ocean, but you don’t mind it when Arthur’s lips trail along your skin. He sweeps your feet from underneath you, lowering you onto the sand, kisses track along your neck, to your torso - where his teeth play with your nipples, as his hands shimmy off your pants. He presses hickeys along the area, tongue licking down to your thighs, bites on your skin, down to your ass; he loosely wraps your legs around his head, licking a stripe on your hole. His fingers enter steadily; as he switches between them and his mouth, your hands attempt to grip at the sand, but with nothing to hold onto, you bunch up your shoulders, back arching ever so slightly; when his mouth envelopes your dick, your hand goes down to his head, gripping his hair as his head bobs up and down. 

You whine when his mouth leaves you, and he makes an amused sound when he pecks your lips again, lining himself up; he moves in unhurriedly, hands holding your face as he peppers you with kisses. You move languidly, thrusts slow; Arthur’s hair skimmed your skin, and you continued to thread your hands through it, lightly gripping it as he moved. You tugged at it every so often, and he responded with sharper movements, the pace increasing as the kisses deepened, your nails dragging along his back as he drove in deeper; you clung to him as he did so. When he comes, he doesn’t release you after, hovering above you as you catch your breaths, and then you laugh; it’s soft, bringing a fond smile to Arthur’s face. “Ten years, and we do it on the beach,” you say.

“Hmm.”

You roll to your side as he lies next to you, your hands intertwined, the party sounds are distant now, and the waves beat against the sand softly; Arthur kisses you again. Nuzzling his face against yours gleefully, when you’ve spent enough time sharing kisses, you sneak back to the main beach - the party’s wrapping up, and you note how several people hand Atlanna money, but it’s not quite as noteworthy as the dried sand on your legs. You and Arthur spend the late hours in the bath, then snuggle under the covers of his old room.

End Note:

Happy Birthday 🥳 Anon. Stay Hydrated.