#i want to be called dove and have him pinch me

[beedreamscape]

I've never felt lust for a written character like I feel it towards John

[hoshigray]

Hiiii, I have a request- could you do like jealous or after arguement smex- you can pick any sort of of storyline or any jjk character. (prefferbly a character like sukuna or toji because i feel like they'd be kind mean about it)

Tyy

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oof, i think after an argument, sex w/kuna would go crazyyy (esp true form! like yikes)

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - clitoral play (grinds, swipes, and pinches) - biting - pinching - degradation (bitch, whore) - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - backshots/doggy position - pet names ([little]dove, my wife, pet, woman) - multiple orgasms - mention of drool/spit and blood.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

You dare avoid him? The King of Curses? Did the screws in your brain finally come loose, and now you’ve gone mad?

Ryōmen Sukuna rarely lets things slide. He is considered the top dog of the cursed Jujutsu world – he doesn’t find himself bowing down to things because things are supposed to bow to him. Anything and everything doesn’t go unnoticed under his gaze, as that’s the order of things that are supposed to happen.

And this philosophy doesn’t stop with you — his little dove.

Being engaged to a human spouse already raises flags of inconsistency. It isn’t rare for you and Sukuna to argue; the workers of the fortress where you reside can attest to this. The love is there, but Sukuna expects you to understand your standing in this marriage. You may be what he always keeps by his side. However, even you shouldn’t overstep him so carelessly.

Nonetheless, your humanness continues to poke him; your resilience is a thorn to your giant husband’s side. The more disagreements you clash with him, the bolder you’ve become in your standing, which makes the cursed man proud, albeit prefers it wasn’t directed towards him. 

And now, after he puts his thunderous foot down and shuts you up with your bickering, you decide to be courageous enough to turn your back on him? Him? Your betrothed? He couldn’t believe what he saw; your expression molded to neutrality before you turned on your heel and headed somewhere away from him. And then you don’t respond when he calls out to you — the absolute nerve.

Oh, you knew Sukuna wasn’t the one to be daring with, especially when you think you can get the last laugh. So, it would be best if he corrected your foolishness. 

“—Dahhh! Su’kunaa, stop! Let go—Ohhh!”

“Shut your mouth. Think you’re in any position to order me now, huh?”

He has you pinned to the tatami flooring, his upper hand on your head to keep your cheek printed on the mat despite your cries. The upper right hand has a good hold on your waist while his lower right hand grips your ankle to keep your legs spread. And with the lower left, he uses it to tease and toy with your chasm. The mouth of his chasm laps around your labia to lick the fluids that coat your slit while his middle and ring fingers grind on your sore clitoris.

This is your punishment: your husband reprimanding you as he gesticulates around your body. You can cry and holler all you want, squirm out of his hold when knowing your efforts are futile. He doesn’t care because he knows that he will make this point to you no matter what.

The tongue of his palm easily swallows your essence, pushing the muscle into your cunt to fuck you. You nearly choke on spit, sensing the considerable muscle swirl around your insides and graze your walls. “Mmph! Oh, fuck—Nnnm! Sukuna, no! I just came seconds ag—Oooh!”

“Do I care?” He raises his sole pink brow, four red eyes scanning your figure, writhing because of his touch. “You will cum however many times I say, my wife.” He draws out the last words to your ear, enjoying how small you appear under his massive shape. 

He lives for your shrieks, your pitch going higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. Swiping your clit makes it harder to maintain balance, your resolve slipping through your fingers with every push and pull of the abnormal tongue.

“Hahhh, ahhhshit, shiiiit,” your eyebrows scrunch together, nails purchasing on the tatami mat beneath you, which you’re sure your scratches would cause damage. Again, not that your jerk of a spouse would care; he is probably getting a kick out of you losing your poise because of him. “Ooh, ‘Kunaa, y’re going too fast…Nnnn !”

“Oh? Does the dove think I’m going too fast?” Sukuna licks the helix of your ear tantalizingly slow, and you gasp when he bites it while the mouth of his palm sloppily kisses the entrance of your vagina. “You wish to cum again, woman?”

You nod hurriedly, his chuckle rumbling to the core of your heart. The hand on your waist comes up to smack your ass, denting the skin by piercing his fingertips. You howl in pain, “Yesss, I wanna cum again!” 

“Hmph, no,” he removes his hand from your throbbing folds before slapping it; the abrupt action erupts a choked sob. Screams fly out at the pinch of his fingers on your delicate bud; the pain from your chasm stings, making your head pound. “You’re not some whore who gets to cum when they want; you’re mine, and cumming without my permission will get you into predicaments worse than this. Are we clear, pet?”

You had no choice in the matter, propping your ass up and your face down, forcing you to take his two cocks with both of your holes. 

“Aiishhh, oh Lord, Shhlow down! I’m t’oo full…!” 

“Mmnn, khheh, I bet you are, grippin’ on my cocks like a real bitch in heat…”

His lower hands keep hold of your hips, keeping you glued to his pelvis as he pistons his fat dicks into your ass and vagina. The tip brushes on your inner walls, and you mewl at every push as the girth stretches your caves. His upper hands keep you held down to the floor, submitting you to his robust stature that easily swallows your small frame.

Your face is still on the floor, drool trickling down your lips as ineligible babbles seep out. “Nnmahh, ahhaa…!” God, he puts so much strength on your poor body; the inability to move or move away from him keeps you immovable for him. 

Sukuna’s pace is unforgiving, propelling himself into your leaky wetness with no remorse. The fact that he has you come two times already doesn’t concern him; if anything, it aids him in pushing to and fro from your tight cunt. He bites his lip from how your rear contracts around him—so snug for his dual limbs as if you’d milk him dry.

“Fsshoo, ohhmy Go—Daah!” A hand finds its way to the left wrist on your shoulder. “Ohh, ‘Kunaa!”

Your wails are broken when he bends down; the added weight is so lethal that you might end up being pressed and being one with the tatami mat. “Hmm? What is it, woman?”

“—Ahhck! Fuuuhuck, pleaseee, can I pwease cu–Uhhmm?!”

You make him snicker, pulling back his rhythm to implement slow yet harsh ruts to your openings while throwing a slap to your asscheek. “Why should I let you?” 

A tear rolls down your hot cheek. “Pleasee, forg’ve me! I shouldn’t have…turned my back on you...”

Crimson eyes narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from his powerful pounds. Sukuna then comes to your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, and of course, you yelp bitterly. The sight of his canines drawing blood from his mark dials his excitement. “Say it properly, pet,” he purrs as he licks the wound on your shoulder.

“Mmmm! Suk’naa, my Lord…”

“Hmm?” He cups and squeezes your cheeks with his upper left for access to kiss your neck, and the lower left snakes down to play with your clit again. You gasp from the sensation of the tongue of his stomach licking your back, the colossal muscle having you arch like a cat.

Rubs on your pearl have you squeaking for him and eyes rolling upward— all desperate and aching for your release that you could break any moment. “Forgive me for stepping out of line...Hooooh, I wanna cum on yer cocks,” you admit while swaying your hips. “Please allow me to cum.”

“Depends,” you gulp at his quick answer. “This will be your only kind warning for this; if you dare do it again, don’t ever think of asking me.” Sukuna licks your cheek before he chews on the flesh, your breath halting at the graze of his fangs. “Understand?”

Your brave side takes over to turn to him meekly, watery eyes meeting his fierce red ones – a good move on your part. “Yess, my husband…”

And he sneers. “There you go, little dove.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[gor3-hound]

CRY FOR ABSOLUTION - LEON S. KENNEDY

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

a/n: heyyy :3 had to make the priest collar edit on picsart so don't look at it too close... um... title from 'absolution' by ghost. thank you @ottermarbles for beta reading !! been working on this slowly while writing commissions... finally here !! rbs and feedback appreciated as always <3

cw: 18+ content, priest!leon, non-religious!reader, dead dove, non-con to dub-con to non-con, victim turned perpetrator, forced breeding, mentions of forcing marriage, religious themes, p in v, creampie, degradation, name calling, breath play

word count: 1.6k words

Leon can sense your presence in the church before he sees you. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his whole body going rigid. He starts murmuring under his breath, eyes shut as he recites the prayer. He’d tried countless times to pray to the Virgin Mary, to strengthen his faith in God so he may resist your advances. To Saint Mary Magdalene, to guide you away from your life of sin. To God Himself to plead that you would leave him alone.

He was sure you were the Devil. Almost certain that you were some cruel test that God had bestowed on him.

He grips the rosary dangling around his neck as your footsteps get closer, whispering one final prayer to God, a desperate plea to give him strength before he faces you, hands trembling as his eyes open to meet yours. Leon couldn’t quite understand how you always managed to avoid the crowds, to worm your way into the Church between services, narrowly avoiding the other priests. You did not care for them, for your faith. You had your eyes set on Leon, a succubus in the flesh that had targeted him so callously.

”While I appreciate your dedication to the Church, I’m afraid the service has already drawn to a close, and there is a lot of work for me to get through before tonight’s service. Perhaps if you return later with the other parishioners, we can s-“

”Father, I hoped to speak to you before the service.” You say as you stalk closer, your heated gaze trailing him. He almost doesn’t hear you speak, the ringing in his ears dampening the sound around him, making your voice nothing more than a faint echo. He’s looking at you, but he’s not seeing you. His gaze is far away as he tries to think of something, anything else. A lump forms in his throat that he cannot dislodge no matter how hard he tries, swallowing to attempt to clear the passage enough so that he felt he could breathe, but with no success. His vision blurs, and he vaguely registers the tears forming in his eyes as you coo, cupping his cheek to wipe the few that fall.

”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.

The first sob forces its way from his chest as your lips wrap around his cock. He wishes that he could hate the way it felt. It makes him nauseous - makes his head spin, but it feels good. He's at war with himself as to what this means, if enjoying the wet warmth wrapped around him means he's no better than you. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists as he tries to distance himself from your touch.

You pull yourself off of his cock with a pop, rustling around for something in your pocket. The crinkle of a packet has his eyes snapping open again, his eyes honing in on the foil you're holding up between two fingers. Panic seeps into his very core, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. “Thought we could try something new.” You say with a giggle, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

No. No, this couldn't happen to him. He's a priest - he's meant to stay far, far away from the pleasures of the flesh. He had to do something, anything to stop you. He swallows hard, eyes flickering around the confessional, trying to figure a way out of this before you lead him down a path of sin.

Leon isn't sure what happened. One minute, you were tearing open the condom with your teeth, and the next minute, he pounced. His hand gripped your throat to pin you down in the confessional, squeezing tight. His eyes are wide, almost feral as they meet yours, his free hand yanking your underwear down. His movements are clumsy as he prods as your cunt, trying to push his way in. After a few attempts, he manages to hook the tip on your entrance, and he slides home in one thrust.

“Oh.” He breathes out, eyes squeezing shut again. Maybe God wasn't testing him. Maybe this was his reward for being a good follower - all he had to do was breed this pussy full and wed you, and he'd be able to do this as many times as he pleased.

No. This was a test. He must have passed. He succeeded, and this was his reward. A pretty housewife for him to keep bred and safe in his grasp. A woman to cure his cold, lonely nights. He could finally have the family he always wanted. He was angry at you now, yes, but he would forgive you when you accepted his proposal and his seed.

“Temptress.” He hisses between gritted teeth, the hand on your throat tightening. The pressure against your windpipe is bruising, leaving you desperately trying to gasp in breaths through too tight of a passage. “Indecent whore. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? You didn't care when I told you ‘no’, did you? No? Then take it.”

He scoffs as you plead for him to stop again, his brows narrowing in frustration. He didn't want to do this. Leon was a good man. He was a holy man. He couldn't let you ruin him. What if the word of this got out?

“You wanted to ruin me, didn't you? You thought you couldn't take what you wanted from me without consequences? That… fuck… that God wouldn't punish your sins? I'm going to make you take my seed. You're going to be my pretty little wife, and no one will hear about this.”

He thrusts forward particularly violently after his words, his grip on your throat tightening enough that you start thrashing, cunt clenching around his cock enough that he has to halt his movements to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will drag you down into the deepest depths of Hell with me. I swear it on the Lord Himself.” He grits out, finally releasing his hold on your throat.

He ignores your protests, a muddy mix of guilt and anger swirling in his chest with each plea that falls from your lips. You had shown him no mercy, and yet you expect him to spare you? You were nothing more than a Godless nymph. He would show you the light.

“Do you know your prayers, hmm?” He coos, gripping your chin. The pads of his fingers dig into your cheeks harshly, drawing a pained moan from you. He starts fucking into you again now that his orgasm has fully subsided, letting out a shaky breath at the drag of his length against your gummy walls. “No, of course. You have no respect for the house of the Lord - you just wish to defile it.”

He lets go of your face to hitch your legs over his waist, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he pistons his hips into you, sweat beading against his skin from exertion, bangs stuck flat against his forehead. “Repeat after me.”

‘Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me:’

The words fall past your lips in a daze as you repeat them, his hand reaching up to your throat again, but not squeezing. A warning to continue as he speaks the next line.

‘Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt.’

He's close now, barely able to hold back as he ruts into you helplessly, reduced to nothing more than a dog in heat as you clench around his cock.

‘Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.’

His hips stutter as you repeat the last words of Contrition back to him, his head dropping to the crook of your shoulder as he gasps out sharp breaths. His cock jumps as he orgasms, stuffing you full of his cum with a noise more akin to a whimper than a moan.

He leans back, eyes taking in your appearance. There was some kind of sick satisfaction seeing you broken like this, knowing God had allowed him to take back the part of him you had aimed to destroy.

You would be his. He would keep you as his wife, his prize. He was given a chance to relinquish the sins you had bestowed upon him.

He would not let the opportunity pass.

[writtenbymoonflower]

hi!!! could i pls request some casual dominance polymarauders 🙈

Thanks for requesting, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, kinda modern!au

cw: kinda d/s dynamics, boys order reader around a bit. if it's not your cup of tea feel free to skip!

810 words

You were attacked with affection the minute you had stepped foot in the house, but you weren’t complaining. It was like James had appeared from thin air to help you shuck your coat off and hang it up for you. 

“Christ, babe. It didn’t know how freezing it was out there. You’ve got like, bits of ice on you.” He fussed, scrutinizing your shaking body and wind-pinched face. 

“It wasn’t that bad, the walk was pretty.” You thought that would be reassuring, but James just looked more aghast. 

“You walked the whole way here?”

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t have money for the bus.” You admitted shamefully. It seemed like Sirius had appeared in the room to give you a (loving) talking to as well. 

“Then in that case, you call one of us, yeah?” He grabbed your face gently, turning you away from James to look at him. He had his whole intimidation thing going on that made you want to melt into the floor. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger walking in this.” He gave your chin an affectionate squeeze before dropping his hand from your face, you let your gaze fall to the floor.

“I will,” You muttered, barely intelligible. This time it was James who tilted your face up. 

“Speak up baby, and look Pads in the eye when you talk to him.” He was gentle but still assertive. You quickly corrected. 

“I will call you next time.” Still mousy, but at a discernible volume, and now you could see when Sirius’ usual grin overtook his concerned features. He pulled you into him, giving you a tight squeeze. 

“You’re okay, babydoll. You’re not in trouble.” He kissed your neck, making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Who’s not in trouble?” You heard Remus’ even tone from the kitchen. You tugged the two men next to you over to where Remus was. He was sitting at the counter, doing some work on his laptop.

“Well it seems like Y/N was determined to give us the fright of our life this afternoon.” James joked (rather dramatically in your opinion), but it’s all good now. 

“They will be requiring some hot chocolate, though.” Sirius pinched at your nose, making an awful cooing sound. “Baby, your face is still all cold.” 

Remus stood up to rummage through the box of hot drink mixes. “Pads love, could you run upstairs and grab the sweater off the end of the bed?” his voice turned more serious as he looked at you. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re still cold, that shirt likely isn’t doing much to keep you warm.” 

“Actually,” You spoke up, ignoring his comment. “Could I have some coffee instead?” James scoffed and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“It’s half past five, baby dove. You’ll be up all night if you have caffeine right now.” Remus clearly wasn’t in the mood to be argued with, but you pressed in.

“I’ll be fine! Besides, my head hurts and I need to get some work done.” 

“Yeah, well, get that idea out of your head.” James shook your shoulders affectionately. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, you need a rest.” 

“Who needs a rest?” Sirius trotted over to you, manhandling you to get Remus’ sweater over your head. 

“Y/N,” James tattled. “They think they’re getting coffee at this hour.” He laughed like you were being obviously ridiculous. “They also have a headache and didn’t tell us.” You must’ve looked absolutely appalled and quickly floundered to control the damages. 

“I didn’t think it was important! It’s not bad anyway.” 

“Well, let’s try to keep it from getting bad.” Remus handed you a steaming cup of hot cocoa, along with a packet of biscuits. “Here, eat these so you can take some pain pills.” He glanced over to James, making the bespectacled boy rummage through the medicine box while Sirius set on getting a glass of water for you. 

“I don’t need any medicine, it will go away on its own.” You pleaded, covering your mouth full of biscoff and feeling flustered from all the attention. Sirius clearly disagreed, because the comment earned you a hard pinch on your bum. 

“Do what Moons said” He punctuated the order with a kiss to your forehead, letting you know he wasn’t really upset with you. Sirius may play stern, but he was really just silly and enjoyed ordering you around a bit, knowing that it made you heated and blushy. 

You set down your hot drink and half-eaten snack to take the pills and water, swallowing your pills and finishing the whole glass before you handed it back. 

“There you go,” James cooed, pulling you into his side. “That’s a good girl” 

You groaned, earning a dark chuckle from Remus.

"Poor baby," He teased, clearly not feeling very sorry for you.

It was going to be a trying night.

[moonstruckme]

Hii i have a request for doctor!remus or maybe emt!marauders (whichever you think goes best) with clumsy reader who is constantly covered in mystery bruises and maybe she bumps her head a lot in a just a few days between them and they find out bc they feel or see the bump or they see her bump her head and maybe gives herself a concussion ?? This is kinda what happened to me a few days ago when i smacked my head really hard and then yesterday at an appartement sighting right infront of the previous tenants and the real estate agent 😩 and i remember walking home and seeing like these white spots you see after hitting your head, you know?? And thinking oh if the boys where here they would be scolding me soo hard but also the coddling i just wanted to be wrapped up by them 😭

Oh god sorry for the long unnecessary and embarrassing backstory 😅

And ofcourse you only have to write this if you want to !! Hope you have a great day 💗🫶🏻

Thanks for the request lovely, hope your head is okay!!

cw: concussion

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 658 words

Sirius watches you, nearly falling asleep against Remus’ side at one in the afternoon. You’ve been in a funny mood all day, only wanting to lie around with the curtains drawn and watch films you hardly seem to be paying attention to. It’s not very much like you, but your boyfriends are more than happy to go along with it. Remus has been half drifting off too, while James keeps going back and forth between the kitchen to make more snacks and Sirius sits with your legs across his lap. 

“Is your head still hurting you, lovie?” James asks as he sits down again, probably only for another ten minutes. 

You hum discontentedly. 

Remus responds by holding you to him as he leans forward, taking your water bottle from the coffee table. “Drink some more,” he tells you, voice rough with drowsiness. 

Sirius watches vigilantly as you take a few slow sips. You look tired and put out, but your expression eases into something closer to contentment when Remus pets your hair approvingly. Sirius sees the moment your boyfriend’s brow furrows. His frown as he looks down at your head, moving his hand over the same spot again. 

“Dove, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You look up at him, but then Remus must press down slightly because your expression pinches. “Ow.” 

“What is it?” Sirius scoots closer. James leans forward in his chair, too.

“There’s a bump on the side of her head,” Remus says worriedly. He’s trying to part your hair to see better. “Can you lean forward for me, love?” 

Sirius sets a hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to bend over and murmuring a thanks when you do. While Remus tries to turn on his phone flashlight, he brushes his fingers gently over your head. You inhale, and his heart flinches. 

“Sorry, darling.” He kisses your hair consolingly. “Do you remember bumping it?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, as though the mere memory exhausts you. “I knocked it on a cabinet yesterday at work.” 

“You knocked it hard?” James stands up, peering over Remus’ shoulder as he inspects your head. 

“It felt hard at the time, yeah.” 

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything? You ought to have called us after a bump like that.” 

You shrug. Sirius can see you looking sheepishly into your lap. “It was embarrassing, and it didn’t seem very bad. It’s fine now, just a bit sore.” 

“But you have a headache,” Remus says dubiously, “and you’ve been tired ever since.” 

You hesitate. “Yeah, but…” 

“Can you look up here for me?” Sirius touches under your chin, prompting you to sit back up. He holds up his flashlight, making sure you see it before clicking it on. 

Though it shouldn’t be a surprise, you flinch hard, your face scrunching with the force of your squint. Sirius clicks the light off. 

He kisses the space between your brows. “I think you’ve given yourself a mild concussion, sunshine.” 

“Really?” you ask, bemused, at the same time as James makes a horribly dejected sound and leans over for a hug. 

“Our poor sweetheart,” he laments, bent over awkwardly with his arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been feeling so odd today, hm? We really shouldn’t be letting you watch TV while your brain’s trying to recover.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Remus agrees, reaching for the remote and switching it off. “How do you feel about a nap, dovey? You’ve seemed sleepy.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Sirius mushes another kiss into your temple. “It might help a bit with your headache, and I know Remus would nap with you.”

You hesitate. James tightens his hold and Remus strokes the hair near your injury, each of your boyfriends desperate to dote on you in their own ways. “Sure,” you say. “That could be nice.” 

“There you go, lovie,” James says approvingly. “If you hadn’t wanted to cuddle with our Rem, then we would’ve had to really worry about your head.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

Do Your Worst, Little Dove

Little Dove Masterlist

Pairing: Sub!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Joel lets you take charge for once.

Word Count: 7.2K

CW: Submissive Joel, spitting, oral (male receiving), toys, anal play, light bondage, praise kink, slight degradation kink, Joel is having the best time while simultaneously having the worst time

AN: I don’t know what came over me with this one, but like….I think I might be a dom? Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for dealing with me yelling about this. Love you all

Joel lets out a hiss as you tighten the leather cuff around his wrist. The metal buckle rubs roughly against the smooth black leather as you bind his arms to the headboard. He balls his fists and the veins in his forearms start to pop below the skin. You step to the end of the bed and admire your handy work. He looks fucking hot - in just his unbuttoned jeans, arms stretched above his head, wrists bound together and tethered to the bed.

“Are you sure about this, Joel?” You ask timidly, even though you’re jumping for joy on the inside at the chance to play with him for once.

He lifts his head off the bed to look at you, “Yes, baby. If you want to try being in charge, I’ll sub for you.”

You bounce on the balls of your feet and smile sweetly at him, “ok good.”

You walk towards your closet, and his head falls back to the bed, turning to rest his cheek on the mattress as he watches you. “Because I’ve been thinking,” you say, your back towards him as you slide open your closet door, “well, I’ve been thinking about what kind of domme I am.”

“That right?” Joel says as you dig through one of the drawers, looking for the sexy little outfit you bought for tonight.

“Mmmhmm and I don’t think I’m a whips and leather type - ah, there you are,” you hide the lingerie from Joel’s view and sneak into the bathroom to change, with a quick glance at Joel you notice his cock already getting hard behind his jeans.

You undress before sliding on a pair of baby blue lacy panties. They have little yellow and pink flowers embroidered on them, that are paired with a matching corset that plunges deep between your breasts. It hugs you in all the right places and you know Joel is going to lose his mind.

“Little Dove? You coming back?” He calls from the bedroom. You smirk at yourself in the mirror. He’s needy for you for once, and that’s a very powerful feeling.

You slip on your white silk dressing gown and head back to the bedroom. “That’s another thing I was thinking of. What are you going to call me? Because I am certainly not your Little Dove in this scene.”

You climb up and straddle him, careful to not let him see what’s underneath your silky cover up. Leaning forward and bracing yourself with your hands beside his head, you brush your lips against his, pulling back when he tries to kiss you.

He lets out a deep groan as you grind down on him. “I think you should call me ‘goddess’ while we do this. Do you think you can do that?”

His breathing is already starting to get ragged and jumpy. “Yes, my goddess,” he says deeply. The baritone of his voice fills your body, a wave of arousal flooding you.

“As I was saying,” you sit back up and start to slowly pull the tie of your dressing gown, “I don’t think I’m the whips and leather type of domme. I might inflict a little pain today, baby. But overall -“ your dressing gown slips off your shoulders, pooling around you and Joel’s hips.

His eyes widen and he pulls on the restraints, so badly wanting to touch your body that’s wrapped in a delicate blue lace as you continue to talk to him, “Overall I just want to take care of you. Please you.”

“So fuckin’ pretty, Little Dove,” he hums. You pinch his nipple roughly and he hisses, “Goddess. Sorry. Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth, “Look s’beautiful, my goddess.”

You kiss his nipple better, then continue up his chest to that sensitive spot below his ear and whisper “Good boy” before sitting back up. Joel is surprised but how those two little words go straight to his cock. As you grind your pussy down you feel him grow fully hard. “You’re going to need a safe word, baby.”

Joel raises one eyebrow at you, “Everything we talked about was pretty tame. I think I’ll be ok.”

You hop off him and make your way to the foot of the bed, grabbing his jeans by the hem and pulling them down his legs. The denim makes a scratching noise against your soft bedding, until he’s left in just his tight black boxers.

“Roll over, baby.” You say sweetly, deciding that your domme personality is going to look and sound nice, but she certainly doesn’t appreciate Joel dismissing what she’s capable of. You watch his broad body roll as you walk to stand along the side of the bed. As he settles onto his stomach you continue, “Did I hear a little attitude? Saying you don’t need a safe word?”

You scrape your nails gently up his leg, starting at his ankle, swirling your fingers as you move up to the hem of his underwear. “No, goddess,” he says with a moan.

“Well, it certainly sounded like it, as punishment that’s one denied orgasm.”

He huffs out a breath. “Yes, my goddess.”

You roll the band of his underwear down so it sits just below his muscular ass cheeks. You bend over to place some lingering kisses along his round cheeks. He relaxes into the mattress, melting under your touch. He shuts his eyes, humming at the sensation. With his hands above his head like this, he has to rest his forehead on the mattress, he’s blind to what you’re doing which just heightens the feeling of your lips.

“I want you to thank me when I deny you that orgasm, Joel. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, my goddess.” He whispers. He’s so relaxed that you almost feel bad grabbing your new paddle from under the bed. It’s a pretty, soft pink leather paddle with Good Boy cut into it. You can’t wait to see his skin pink up around the letters.

You trail the soft leather of the small paddle up his one leg. “I got you a little present today, baby boy,” you say, voice a little more stern but still sweet. “Do you know what it is?”

You trace the outer globe of his ass, over his lower back and down to the other hip. “No,” he whispers, the paddle now moving down his other leg.

“Did you want to guess?” You say, watching his body twitches in anticipation when you pull it away from his skin.

“Felt like leather. Maybe a paddle?” He guesses.

You bring the paddle down on his right ass cheek, not hard, but enough to have him suck in a sharp breath. You strike again in the same spot, harder this time and he pulls on his restraints, gasping a little.

“Sssshhh. You’re ok baby,” you rub his right cheek, the word showing very faintly across his ass. You feel yourself getting wetter, if you do this a few more times you’re sure your panties will be ruined. For good measure, you strike him two more times in quick succession. The hits are a little softer but you know from being Joel’s sub that those often sting the most. He moans and gasps, he’s only held to the bed by his hands, he could easily roll away. But something inside of him is telling him to stay, learn what it’s really like to be on the other side, but also prove to himself that he can do this.

‘Good Boy’ is now almost tattooed across his right cheek. The word written on his tanned skin, the stinging pink skin around it acting like a neon sign. You use the other side of the paddle to rub his cheek. His body jolts with the soft contact - he’s on edge, not sure what you’re going to do next and not expecting gentleness. “Fuck, goddess. That hurt.”

“I know, Joel. That’s the point.” You kiss the tender skin of his cheek a few times before continuing. “I’m proud of you. And you should see your ass right now. Proudly displaying what a good boy you are for me.”

You roll his underwear band back up and he lets out an impatient groan. “What’s that sound for?”

Joel huffs out a breath, “Nothing, my goddess. I’m sorry.”

You click your tongue at him, “You are so impatient. This big strong man of mine, already whining for me to touch his cock.” You straddle his lower back, lean your body down into him and grip his hair tightly, pulling his neck back. He lets out a pained moan as you lick a line up his cheek before whispering into his ear, “I’m just getting started little one.”

You release his hair, his forehead landing softly on the mattress. “On your back,” you bark, swinging your leg around and standing at the side of the bed again. You slowly open the bedside drawer where Joel keeps all the toys and accessories that he loves to tease you with.

“Do you still think you don’t need a safe word?”

Joel winces as his sore cheek hits the mattress. “Goddess, if I survived watching you build that goddamn ikea bookcase. I can survive anything.”

You smirk and bite your cheek stopping the laugh from escaping. Every so often Joel Miller, a man of few words, makes a joke that you are never expecting. “Maybe your safe word should be Allan key.” You retort.

“Yes, goddess,” he says with a wink.

You shuffle some things around in the drawer before finding what you’re looking for - the beginner metal pinwheel. While it looks intimidating, it’s not as sharp as the one Joel now uses on you.

“We are going to play a little game, baby boy,” you start, placing the pinwheel in the band of your underwear and walking to the foot of the bed. “I am going to set a timer for one minute intervals. I’m going to play with your cock for one minute, then use the pinwheel on your body for the next minute. Is that ok with you?”

Joel’s breathing is coming in faster, goosebumps have spread across his body as he stares up at the ceiling. “Y-yes,” he sputters as you slide his boxers down his legs. “Please touch me, my goddess.”

“Oh Joel,” you say his name slowly and sweetly. “Joel…Joel…Joel. You’re not in charge, sweet boy. I think this means we are now at two denied orgasms.”

He groans quietly towards the ceiling. You grab your phone and open your interval timer, setting it upright on the nightstand so Joel can see it. “Since you seem to have no patience, I’m going to start with the pinwheel. If you’re about to come at any moment, you need to tell me. Now say ‘yes, goddess’ and thank me.”

Joel’s bound hands clench into fists, eyes glazing over as your finger hovers over the start button. “Yes, my goddess. Thank you.”

You tap the screen, your matte black manicured fingernail clicking against the screen protector and then bring the pinwheel to the smooth skin of the inside of his forearm, running it to his elbow slowly. Goosebumps spread along his skin, it amazes you to see the response from this side. A simple act, that’s tender and trusting. You could cause him pain with just the simple flick or flex of the wrist, and he knows that. As his eyes close and a steady hum vibrates in his chest, you smile at your beautiful partner. He’s so handsome. So soft. So yours.

The trail of your pinwheel continues down his bicep and onto his strong chest. You roll just below his collarbone to the other shoulder. As a quiet beep of the timer goes off. Another minute starts counting down automatically and you drop the pinwheel on his chest before grabbing his already rock hard cock in your hand. Stroking him up and down gently.

“Fuck, goddess. Fuck,” he’s already breathing heavily, eyes squeezed tightly. You squeeze tighter, stroking all the way up, milking a bead of pre cum from the tip. You can’t fight the urge, lapping up the cum with the tip of your warm tongue. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You can tell he’s already on the edge, which is exactly where you want him. You suck the needy red tip of his cock into your mouth and flatten your tongue, circling along the sensitive ridge along the bottom. He lets out a growling moan which quickly turns into a whine of protest as the timer beeps. “No. Please.”

“Shhh,” you hush him gently as you roll over his chest with the wheel, adding a bit more pressure this time. Trailing across his strong pecs, the tanned skin left dimpled behind the spokes of the pinwheel. “You look so beautiful right now, Joel Miller. Lying here so still for me. Such a good boy.”

A little smile crosses Joel’s face at your praise. The love between the two of you seems to fill the air, making the room feel small and shut off from the rest of the world. You trail the wheel down his sternum and then diagonally towards one hip. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

His cock is so hard, swaying a little with the movement of his legs. He gasps as the sharp spokes trace down the soft crease between his leg and groin, following the inside of his thighs. Praise leaves your lips as you worship your man.

So handsome….Being so good for me….Letting me play with you…I want to worship you the way you do me.

The moment the timer goes off you don’t waste any time, forcing his dick down your throat until you gag. You hold there, breathing through your nose.

“Oh fuck, that’s gonna -“ his voice is thick with need. “Fuck fuck fuck. Please, goddess. I’m. Oh please. I’m gonna….”

You pull off him quickly and he cries out in protest. “No. No. Hnnng. No,” you’ve never heard him whine like this and you swear the power you’re currently holding over him could make you come right now.

“What do you say, baby?”

A thin sheen of sweat starts to break out across his body. “T-thank you. My, fuck, my goddess.”

The timer goes off again, “One more time of each, then we’ll move on to something else.”

You go all out this time. Short rolls of the wheel, using lots of pressure, along the most sensitive spots. Bottom of his foot, the inside of his thigh, the thick pubic hair at the base of his cock, his inner bicep. Each roll sends sharp jolts through his body, and he moans, groans or gasps with each one. His cock twitches as the pain settles into warm, sparkling pleasure.

By the time the minute is almost over Joel’s face is furrowed with a mix of pleasure, pain and anticipation. His curls have grown out a little and one sticks to his forehead.

The timer beeps and you repeat your previous actions. Forcing his thick, hard cock down your throat, saliva pooling in your cheeks and landing on this pelvis as you fight from gagging.

“Goddess. Oh fuck. Please let me!”

You start to bob up and down his slick cock, sliding him in and out of your mouth from base to tip, a hand coming to fondle and massage his heavy balls. He lets out a satisfied moan as you slow your mouth, swirling and twirling your tongue along his shaft and head.

“You taste so good, baby boy,” you moan before slowly sliding him all the way to the back of your throat. You moan as he hits the back, and he tenses up and squirms.

“No. I’m gonna cum. Please.”

You release him with a pop and watch his dick turn an angry shade of red. It matches the blush that’s creeping his neck from his chest.

“Fuck you,” he growls and pulls at the restraints.

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re pathetic. Swearing and crying after only a few minutes. Roll over.”

“No. No. I’m sorry.”

You grab a fist full of hair and get within a hair from his face. “I said to roll over. Speaking to me like that warrants a punishment.”

He whimpers at the pain in his scalp, mouth open and reaching for yours. Hoping he can break you down with his soft velvety lips. You release his hair and give him a stern look, a look he’s never seen you give and hopes he’s never on the receiving end of again and rolls over.

“On your knees and spread your legs,” you bark as you grab your paddle again. He looks so good with his round little ass in the air, legs spread so you can see his stiff cock and heavy balls. You can’t help yourself, reaching between his legs to massage his balls. His back arches, pushing his ass towards you, and you bite down on one of his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry,” he moans and mumbles into the pillows.

“Good boy,” you coo, trailing your fingernails along his balls in light, languid movements. Goosebumps break out across his body when you begin running the smooth part of the paddle along the back of his strong thighs and over his tooth indented ass cheek.

You climb in between his legs, keeping yourself far enough away that he can feel your heat but all that’s touching him is the soft leather of your baby pink paddle.

“You don’t like this very much do you, Joel?”

He shakes his head and moans a ‘mm-mmm’ into the pillows.

“Tell me what you want,” you say, laying a small smack across his ass.

“I want to touch you, goddess.” He says through a shaky voice.

You strike his ass harder this time. The thwack filled the room along with his chorus of whines.

“You can do better than that. You and your filthy mouth. Tell me,” You hit him again a bit more softly and then rub the word ‘good boy’ that’s already forming with your hand. “What do you want?”

“I w-want,” he flinches as you remove your hand and then melts as you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke slowly up and down, “thank you…I want to lay you down. Remove that sexy lingerie slowly, oh fuck, that feels good, I want to kiss your body. Taste your skin. Play with your nipples.”

You pick up the pace of your hand and his legs start to shake underneath him. “Keep talking, baby.”

“Please don’t stop. Fuck. Yes. I-I wanna taste your beautiful pink pussy. Feel the soft folds with my tongue.”

The paddle meets his cheek again as you stroke him and he lets out a high pitched whine that neither of you knew he was capable of before he says. “Shit. Again. Please. Do that again.”

You’re in charge here, but you do as he asks. Two quick, hard snaps of the paddle before you drop your body to lick along the bottom of his cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he says in a quick and scared tone. You pull away as his cock gets redder, right on the edge. It almost looks painful. But all the times he’s made you cry from his edging, it only feels fair. “Oh god. Please.”

You move up the bed, reaching cuffs that are binding his wrists to the bed frame. Undoing the restraints you say, “I’m trusting you to stay submissive with these off, ok?”

“I’ll do anything,” he says in a weak voice.

“Lay on your back,” you whisper after undoing him. When you see his face, he looks completely wrecked and frustrated. Tears line his eyes, his breathing is ragged and quick. You smirk at him, “What else do you want to do?”

“I want to eat you until you gush all over my face,” you drop your bra to the ground and you can see him almost pushing himself into the mattress to stop from grabbing you. “And, fill you with my fingers. See you break out in sweat as you come over and over again.”

You slide your panties down your legs, you’re so wet that Joel can see them soaked through in the middle. “Fuck, goddess. You’re so wet.”

“Do you want to taste it?” You ask, dragging a finger through your slit and holding it up to him.

He fists the sheet, “Yes. Please.”

You slip your finger between your lips to suck off your arousal. Your eyes flutter closed and you moan at your flavour. Joel groans as you straddle his chest backwards, slipping your legs under his arms, sliding back so he has a view of your needy, glistening pussy.

You sit up slightly and look over your shoulder at his face. He licks his lips, swallowing hard, practically salivating over the sight of you. “What will you give me if I reward you with my pussy?”

“Anything, baby. Please. I need to taste you. Feel you. Please.” You’ve never heard him beg like this before, the desperation and want in his voice causes the walls of your pussy to clench around nothing. It’s an oddly powerful feeling of being wanted so badly that he’s almost brought to tears.

“Prove to me that you can be a good boy,” you say, voice steady and commanding. “Keep your hands to yourself, and maybe I’ll reward you.”

His brow furrows in, frustration with a hint of admiration crossing his face before you turn back, taking his hard cock in your hand and stroking gently from the base to the tip. Joel’s hands fist the sheets to stop himself from touching you, your pussy rests on his hard chest, ass in the air as you tease him.

“Goddess,” he whimpers. “Fuck. Please.”

“Be good,” you tut, your tongue teasing the swollen red head lightly.

“Please!” He huffs, slamming his eyes shut and trying to slow his breathing.

This is torture. He somehow hates and loves this. He hates that he’s being denied the orgasm that’s teetering on the edge. Hates that he’s broken out in a sheen of sweat. Hates that it feels so good that it hurts. But fuck does he love seeing how confident and proud you look. And he loves that he can see how wet the control is making you.

He’s lost in his thoughts for a moment, fighting the urge to grab you, flip you under him and spank you for teasing him; which he very easily could do. Instead, he takes a few breaths as you suck on the lip of his dick like a lolly pop. He groans, chest vibrating against your pussy and you instinctively start grinding his chest.

Joel’s eyes pop open to watch you grind his sternum. You swirl your tongue around the head of cock a few times and everything becomes too much for him. You surround him with yourself and your sex. All he can see is your tight asshole and shiny wet pussy. All he can feel is your soft skin along his abdomen and your warm wet tongue teasing him. All he can hear is your tiny little moans and gasps of pleasure and the occasional squelching of your mouth along his dick.

“Baby, fuuuuck. I’m -“ Before he can come you remove your hand and lips from his cock. It twitches as a little bit of come leaks from the top. “Goddess. Please. Please!”

You ignore his cries, grinding harder into his chest. “Mmmm, Joel. You feel so good.”

“Please. I can’t, I need it. Please,” he continues his weak begging.

You glance over your shoulder, seeing him almost on the edge of tears. He’s so frustrated, cheeks turning pink, more sweat forming along his forehead.

“Spit,” you say darkly, raising one eyebrow.

“W-what?” He sputters, eyes locking with yours.

“Spit on my pussy, get it nice and wet so I can come on your chest.” Joel’s eyes dart to your pussy and then back to you before he smiles at you.

“You have no idea how fucking hot you are right now,” he squeezes his cheeks together, gathering saliva. “You sure about this, Little Dove?”

The hand resting on the inside of his tight swats him hard and he lets out a deep painful groan. “Don’t fucking call me that. Spit, Miller.”

You watch as his head lifts from the bed, inching as close as he can to your pussy. You raise slightly as he spits, the warm saliva hitting your folds and his chest. You waste no time, spreading yourself open with your fingers and sitting back down on Joel’s chest. You don’t touch his cock as you ride him.

“Talk to me,” you moan, alternating your hips from a forward and backward rocking motion into little circles.

“You look so beautiful, goddess,” he says deeply, chest rumbling with every word. “So sexy as you use me. Take what you want. What you need. So fuckin proud of you, baby girl.”

A fresh slick of arousal coats his chest, you’re so close. You drop your head to rest on the crevice of his thigh. “Don’t stop,” you moan, slowing your hips but pushing down harder.

“You like when I talk? Can you feel it vibrating on your perfect little clit. You’re so wet, so beautiful,” you feel his spit again and you whine out. Pain pulses through Joel’s fingers with how tightly he’s gripping the bed sheets. Fighting against every urge and instinct to grab you and touch you. “Fuck, goddess. I want you. You are so perfect. So beautiful. So good.”

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, burying your face against his pelvis.

“Show me, goddess. Show me what I do to you,” he says roughly. He could come just from watching you as the movement of your hips starts to falter. He swears he stops breathing as his eyes focus on your cunt fluttering and clenching in front of him. The soft, baby pink folds quiver as your slick leaks from the tight hole he loves so much. You cry out, a chain of swears, moans and his name leaving your lips. His cock is aching for attention, saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought of tasting you, licking up your honey and feasting on his favourite meal. He’s made you cum countless times, felt your pussy strangle his fingers and milk his cock, but he’s never watched it from this angle, it’s intoxicating, euphoric, a whole new feeling of nirvana that he didn't know existed. “Fuuuuck, so gorgeous, baby.”

You slump down onto Joel. Weak and satisfied, as you catch your breath and try to stop your legs from trembling.

After a few minutes of silence, Joel’s soft whispering voice fills the air, “Goddess? Please let me touch you now so I can care for you.”

You open your eyes, his cock is still hard and an angry shade of red in front of you. “You were so good for me, baby boy,” you say softly, placing light and lingering kisses along the top of his thigh and hip bone.

“Let me keep being good. Let me care for you. Make love to you. Worship your body from head to toe. Please, goddess.”

“Don’t you dare move,” you say roughly. All the things he’s saying sound wonderful, and you’ll let him do all those things eventually, but you never get to hear him beg like this and you’re not going to give in so quickly. He said to do your worst after all.

You adjust yourself to be sitting up slightly and cup his heavy balls in one hand. He hisses at the contact, you know exactly how it feels to not be able to see what the next move is and you’re sure Joel’s eyes are slammed shut, trying to predict, but not being able to anticipate your next move.

You let a trail of warm saliva fall from your mouth, letting it land on the tip of cock. “Please,” he whines behind you.

“Shhh, you’re ok,” you coo, lowering your face to his dick, your tongue trailing a light circle around the sensitive ridge of the head. You revel in the pathetic little gasps he makes as you swirl around him again and again.

“Baby boy,” you wrap your free hand around the base of his cock, “I’m going to suck your perfect dick now, but you need to tell me when you’re about to come. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

“Fuck - Jesus, goddess. I don’t know if I can do this,” he huffs.

You release his balls and slap the inside of his thigh again. He hisses as the red hot pain settles on the meat of his muscular thigh. “You will. Or I’ll get the paddle again.”

The power has definitely gone to your head. You love it when Joel is commanding and dominating, but it’s intoxicating having him all supple and yours to do whatever you want with.

“Sorry, goddess. Sorry,” his thick cock leaps as you grab his balls again. Without warning you take him all the way in your mouth, the tip pressing against the back of your throat. You relax your jaw and throat, breathing through your nose and just hold there, warming him with just your mouth.

He turns into an absolutely writhing, whining mess within seconds. “I need to touch you. Please. Fuckfuckfuck that’s so good. Please. Let me touch you.”

You choke out an ‘uh uh’, and the vibrations of your throat have him tense up beneath you. “Oh god. Goddess. Fuuuuck. Please move. Please suck me.”

You slurp up his dick and release the tip with a lewd, wet pop. “Joel Miller,” you say mockingly, “I never would have taken you for such a whiner when the tables are turned.”

“Just let me touch you and then I’ll be quiet. Please.”

You peek over your shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised teasingly, “I could just gag you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he audibly swallows. “No, no, please. I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

You spin back to face his cock and say, “That’s my good boy,” before sliding him to the back of your throat again.

A mixture of your drool and his pre come starts to gather on the coarse hairs along the base of him, you use the wetness to lubricate his balls as you fondle and cradle them. His breathing is quick and uneven, you can tell he’s fighting his body’s natural urge to come and his new found need to whine.

You pull off of him with a gag and a cough, you play it up a little since you know how much he likes to hear you gag when he’s in charge. He stays true to his word and he’s quiet, just a small moan leaving his throat before you start to suckle on the tip of his swollen cock. You lap up the salty pre cum, swallowing him down, he really is your favourite taste.

“Mmm, taste so good baby boy,” you hum between licks. As Joel relaxes underneath you you have a very devious idea. You keep up the languid strokes of your tongue over his cock, waiting for him to tell you he’s going to come so you can stop. You suck him further into your mouth and almost immediately as your lips close around him he jerks.

“Fuck. I’m gonna come. I’m sorry,” you pull back quickly and he grunts.

“Not yet baby,” you whisper as you climb off him. Spinning to face him and sitting on your heels you say, “Remember that tiny vibrating plug we used to use when we first started experimenting with anal? Do you think you could take that?”

Joel’s eyes squint as if to test if you’re joking or not. When your facial expression doesn’t falter he says, “Oh, you’re serious?”

“You can say no, Joel.” You mumble.

“No. Well yes. I mean, I’m not saying no,” he stays lying about how you’ve told him, eyes searching yours. “Let me see it again.”

You jump excitedly off the bed and pull the small pink plug out from the bedside table, along with the cleaning wipes and the lube. You turn back to see your perfect man led on his back, his cock still stiff as nails and glistening with your saliva. You fight that soft, submissive side of yourself that feels bad for leaving him like that.

“Lemme see it, gorgeous girl,” he says, looking over at you with hooded eyes like he’s drunk off your mouth. You hold it up for him, it’s not much bigger than his thumb. “Ok, goddess. For you, I’ll do it. Just….use lots of lube.”

You smile at him and laugh softly, “Of course, baby boy. I only want to make you feel good. So here’s the plan. Come stand here and bend over the bed. I’ll slowly work this in, once it’s in I’m going to turn it on low. Then you’ll sit, leaning against the headboard and I’ll ride that big gorgeous cock until we both cum. Deal?”

Joel has never heard you be so dominant and direct with what you want. It’s usually him bossing you around, he’s overcome with pride listening to his sweet Little Dove demand something just for her once. “I love you so much, baby.” He coos as he slips off the bed and bends over in front of you.

You wipe the toy clean then flick the cap of the lube open, the clicking of the plastic cap that changed your life is about to change Joel’s. The cool slippery liquid drizzles down his ass, he jolts at the coolness, goosebumps breaking out over his back and firm cheeks. “Sorry, baby,” you whisper, gathering the lube on your fingers and swirling it around his asshole. You feel it quiver at your touch and Joel takes a steadying breath.

“Nice and slow,” you soothe, teasing him with more pressure. Joel's broad body relaxes into the mattress. “Good boy. Just relax. Play with yourself for me. I’m going to switch to the plug now, just to get it nice and slippery.”

Joel snakes his hand between his body and the mattress, as he wraps his fist around his cock you circle the toy along his slippery, puckered hole. You watch it quiver and relax under your touch so you apply a bit more pressure the tip of it disappears inside of him. A euphoric moan tumbles past Joel’s lips.

“Oh god goddess, more, please.” He mumbles.

“Ok, baby,” you whisper, your free hand lightly tracing up and down his spine. You push the plug in more, Joel’s body jolts and he cries out. “Pleasure or pain, Joel?”

His breathing shakes as he moans, “Pleasure. Oh fuck. It’s so good, baby. Fuuuuck.”

One person shouldn’t hold this much power over a man who could probably kill someone with his bare hands if provoked. You never in a thousand years thought would go for this, and never in a million years thought he would love it this much.

“More, more,” he hiccups into the sheets.

You push the toy deeper, “Good boy. Almost all the way in.” Your hand caresses over the smooth globe of his ass. “Doin’ so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

With a final little push of your thumb, the toy slips all the way in. “Good job,” you praise, kissing at his lower back. His body goes completely slack below you. “How are you feeling?”

Joel moans into the mattress. “Good. It’s so much pressure. But good pressure. Fuck, I should have let you be in charge sooner.”

You stand, then drag your nails up the back of his thighs and up and over his ass as you say. “That’s my sweet baby boy, now get your perfect little ass back on the bed so I can fuck you.”

He gingerly crawls up onto the bed, you watch him carefully, a thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest. You prop some pillows against the headboard. He locks eyes with you as he sits, whimpering at the pressure of his body weight on the plug.

You grab the small remote in your hand and then straddle Joel’s wide thighs, your chest pressed against his. His cock is so hard between your bodies, the vein that travels underneath it is pulsing. You wrap your dainty hand around the base.

“Spit, Joel,” you command.

He doesn’t hesitate, spitting down the tip of his cock, it beads and rolls down the sides, and you work your hand up and down him slowly, spreading the wetness. “Again, baby.”

He obeys, his breathing ragged and uneven as you spread the saliva again. “Now that your perfect cock is all sloppy I’m going to bury you inside of me. Then I’m going to push this little button,” you hold the remote out in front of him, “And you’re not gonna cum until I say. Right?”

“Yes, oh god, y-yes goddess,” his head falls back to rest on the headboard, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

You lift, using your hand to guide him to your entrance. You slowly sink onto his length, gasping at the familiar sting of the stretch as he fills you. Joel lets out a content and whispered, “fuuuuuuck.”

“Feels s’good when you’re inside me,” you mumble into his neck. “I’m gonna turn it on now, Joel. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I’m ready,” he wraps his arms around you tightly, you’re not sure if it’s fueled by pleasure or the anticipation of what’s to come, but when you push the tiny button he squeezes tighter, his entire body quivering underneath you. “Oh god. Baby, I c-can’t, fuck.”

You pull back to look at his face. “Do you need me to stop?” Your voice is soft and full of concern.

“No, god no. I can’t last. I, fuck, please start moving. Please.” He buries his face in your neck as he whimpers, fully confirming your earlier thoughts. No one should have this much power in their hands. “Please, goddess.”

You start rocking your hips back and forth, he’s so fucking sexy like this and even though you’ve already cum once, you’re painfully turned on seeing your man turn into a puddle at your touches. “That’s it, big boy. Just hold on a little bit longer for me. Fuck, I’m so close.”

His dull fingernails dig into your sides as he tries to hold off. Every movement you make pulls a groan from him. “Call me a good girl, please Joel. I’m gonna cum.”

His voice is thick and syrupy as he says, “Please, my goddess. Cum for me. Be my good girl. Let me feel you milk me.”

“Hnnnng - yes!” You cry out as heat spreads through every nerve ending of your body. “Cum with me.”

Joel’s hands guide your hips, helping you fuck into him harder. His cock grows larger inside you. “Kiss me,” he whines.

You press your lips to him as the heat snaps and your orgasms wash over you. You are a mess of tongue and teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, painting your walls with warm ropes of cum. You can feel it filling you, feel the walls of your pussy clenching hard around him. Everything in the room except Joel fades away. You and Joel, always.

Your orgasm crests and you peel away from Joel’s lips to watch him. He’s completely blissed out. Eyes hooded and glazed over, sweaty glistening across his whole body. As you come down you slow your hips, his hands take over, rocking you back and forth.

“Good boy,” you hum. “Just take what you need.” You can feel his cum leaking out from you, landing in the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

“I’m - I think I’m gonna,” his hands grip you so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have the same bruises you always seem to get when you and Joel fuck.

You card your hands through his hair, pushing back his sweaty curls. “I’m here, baby. Just relax. Let it happen. You’re ok.”

His head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as he cums again with a deep, satisfied groan.

“Turn it off. Allan key. Shit, baby.”

You quickly shut the vibrating plug off and wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, pulling him in closely. You shush him softly as he tries to catch his breath, his softening cock still buried inside of you.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask after a few silent moments.

His breathing begins to steady. “Kiss me.”

You pull back and press your lips to his. He deepens the kiss, slow languid strokes of his tongue against yours. You feel content to just sit here straddling Joel, lazily making out forever. You let him take the lead, giving him whatever he needs after an intense night. It feels like you’ve been kissing for hours when Joel pulls back.

“Thank you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“Anything for you, my love,” you smile at him. “Do you need help getting that out?”

His chocolate brown eyes wash over you. “No, maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. What do I do?”

You can’t help but giggle at his slight panic. “Just kinda push into it and pull a little bit. That’s all I do. But I’ll have to get off of you first.”

His nose drags against yours, “Not yet.”

Joel kisses your jaw and then your shoulder before curling into your neck again. You trail your fingers along his upper back, lazy uneven patterns and swirls. He hums contentedly into your skin. “I don’t think I can go back to having sex without this thing,” he admits sheepishly.

“That good?”

“Yes, Little Dove,” murmurs, “You are that good.”

You smile to yourself before he pulls back and you two work in tandem to slide off his soft cock, cum drips from your pussy, landing on him and the bed as you lay on the bed beside him. He stands on shaky legs and goes to the bathroom. You hear a pained grunt and then water running. He comes back with the cleaned toy in one hand, tucking it back in the bedside drawer, and a towel in the other hand that he uses to clean you off.

“I should be the one taking care of you, Joel.”

He laughs quietly, “I can’t help it, Little Dove. You looked so gorgeous tonight. I’m so proud of you for how talkative and dominant you were.”

You flip the sheets open and you both crawl in, his large body wrapping around yours, both of you relaxing into one another at the same time. Breathing syncing into a comfortable pace. These are the moments that you live for. As fun as exploring your kinky side is together, there’s an anchor between you and him that keeps you tied together.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your hairline, kissing you softly.

You press your face deeper into his chest, surrounding yourself with his scent. “I love you, too.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

Savior

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO) Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x captive reader Rating: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat Warnings: I repeat, DDDNE. Kidnapping, non-con, dub-con, face fucking, bondage, objectification, dehumanisation, captivity, drug and alcohol abuse, boot licking (literally), boot kissing, master/slave dynamics, name calling (bitch), loss of identity, Stockholm syndrome, really messed up dynamics, mention of spitting, mention of boot fucking, mention of watersports but not performed. Word count: 1.7k words Summary: Joel saves you from the horrors of the world only to inflict another horror on you. A/N: *slaps roof of this fic* This fic has everything (again, heed the warnings) I’ve been away for a while now and I’ll probably taken long to post my next fic. But I hope this is a fun read 🥺

The world was a big place and you knew nothing about it. You wanted to. You wanted to go beyond the walls of the QZ and inside those buildings people said were tall enough to touch the sky. You wanted to see the remains of museums. You wanted to see trees and sit on the grass and eat fresh fruits.

In a mockery of this daydream, the universe decided that not only would you never step outside but that you will be confined in a space smaller than the QZ.

You knew nothing about the world, but you knew everything about him. Many people passed by the doors of his apartment throughout the day. But you identified his strides. The heaviness of his boot against the floor, the speed at which he walked, how big his strides were. When you heard the grating sound of metal against metal, you knew he’d slotted his key in the door. You began trembling just at the sound of the door opening, your body fearing everything he would inflict on you.

Yet your cunt throbbed with anticipation. Your heart fluttered with joy. He was cruel, yes. But you knew he cared about you. He shared his food, traded to get you a few clothes, even got your medicines when you were ill. He was violent with you, but that was only because of the hard work he had to do all day.

As he walked in, you took in his appearance. Hands stained black, a thin sheen of sweat on his face and arms. He was tired again. He downed some of the brownish liquor he brought back a week ago and popped in a few pills. Sometimes he even shared them with you.

He put the bottle down and walked towards you. It was summer and you didn’t need to wear clothes. So you didn’t. He said he wasn’t going to waste time washing them when you didn’t have to wear them. With your ankle chained to the radiator, there was nowhere for you to go.

You smelled the tasks of his day on his boot as he stood in front of you, his boot dangerously close to your face. You willed yourself to not throw up. Not again, not again, please no, not again. They were dirty, too dirty. You did everything he asked you to, but you couldn’t bear when he made you fuck yourself on his boot until you came. And you did, every single time.

A sharp sting pulled at every nerve ending on your face as his boot made contact with it.

“Thought you’d died,” he said, unbuckling his jeans. You pressed your palms on the floor and sat up on your knees.

“Still breathing? Let me check,” he said, pinching your nose between his fingers. You gasped when he cut your access to air, breathing through your fuckhole to keep yourself alive. “There’s my bitch… Still alive.”

He took his cock out of his pants, large and intimidating, just like him. You opened your mouth instinctively. Happened when you got the shit kicked out of you when you didn’t keep your holes accessible. Happened when food and water were conditional upon how satisfactory you were as his stress toy. Nose still pinched, he unzipped himself and plunged his cock inside you. Your legs kicked around as his thickness restricted your breath, your cunt tightening around nothing as he let you struggle for a few moments more.

Finally, he let go of your nose, allowing you to see another day. You looked up at him, gratitude filling your heart that he would allow you air. It wasn’t always like that. In the initial days of your captivity, all you wanted was death. But eventually he taught you to be grateful for everything he did. Grateful he gave you a purpose, grateful he grabbed you from the street, that he fed you his scraps and trained your fuckholes to be useful.

You moaned uselessly as your throat burned from his size. Thankfully, he didn’t mind your noises. He was good, merciful. So kind to let you make any sound at all though you were forbidden from talking. He’d fucked that notion out of you long ago. Called your mouth a fuckhole as he did your cunt and ass.

A mouth was for talking and eating. He reminded you often that you didn’t have one. The hole on your face was a hole to fuck, a pit for his cum and spit and piss. When you’d accepted that, you found you had no need to speak.

The small room filled with Master’s grunts and groans, punctuated by the involuntary moans from your fuckhole. You always hated blowjobs, finding the act demeaning and avoiding it until whatever boy you were dating annoyed you into sucking him off. But this wasn’t a blowjob. You didn’t suck cock, you simply complied as he fucked a hole he owned. Still, you tried to be as worthy as you could with the little freedom you had.

He bottomed out inside you, your nose pressed against his belly. Your hair was in a tight grip in his fist, a handle to make you more convenient. But you tried with the little space you had, licking his balls. He moaned and thrusted though he’d fed you all that he had. An animalistic need to seek sexual gratification no matter how. One hand in your hair became two and he began his brutal pace that would leave your fuckhole bruised and out of use for a few days until he deemed it fit to fuck again.

Your face hit his soft belly over and over and his balls slapped against your chin. Your cunt thrusted up into the air, begging for something, anything. It didn’t have to be Master’s cock. His hand, a kick from his boot you so hated, his pistol. It needed to be used, just as the rest of your body.

It didn’t take long for his cock to leave your fuckhole, ropes of sticky white fluid coating your face. Your hole gasped for air and Master, generous as he was, let you have air and water.

No, not water, you realized as the strong taste attacked your senses. The glass bottle you took from was an old beer bottle, the label worn off but a hint of color reminding you of the brand. But it wasn’t beer. Something that they brewed in the QZ that he was kind enough to share to keep your nightmares at bay. You kept the final sip in your mouth and looked up, your throat straight to accept the pills he threw in. You swallowed, tears flowing down your cheeks. You would sleep well tonight, untainted by images of your loved ones turning, of your gun putting a bullet in their heads before they could rip you into pieces.

You bent forward and pressed your lips to his filthy boots, silent tears growing into sobs. You kissed and licked the filth, hoping he knew how grateful you were for this one night of mercy. For thinking about you, noticing how you suffered when night came and the memories of a past life flooded in. With each second of worship, you showed him how grateful you were for the freedom he gave you by chaining you up in his room.

When his boots were clean, you gave it one final kiss and hugged his legs. You rested your cheek on his boots, shivering when he bent down and petted you.

“I know, I know,” he said quietly, his voice soft and kind. He let you weep at his feet for what felt like hours but you knew was only a few minutes. Eventually your sobs died down and he pried you off of him gently. He placed a bowl of slop in front of you and filled the other bowl with water. Sustenance. And you didn’t even have to work for it. You were hungry, god you were so hungry it hurt. But you waited. You were just a useless bitch with nothing left but the base needs of your belly and cunt. But you still had manners. You didn’t take anything Master gave for granted. He placed food and water in front of you, but it wasn’t permission to take them.

He deserved your respect, your obedience. You knew he suffered at night just like you did. Outside, he did backbreaking labor so you didn’t have to. And he always kept you fed, took care of you. You couldn’t give him as much as he gave you from where he kept you so you showed absolute deference.

“Eat.”

And that was when you began.

“My name’s Joel.” He said out of nowhere from his place in his bed. He didn’t look at you for a response. Just spoke it into the air. You left your food and water behind and crawled to the foot of his bed, nuzzling your head against his boots with no other way to show gratitude.

You never knew his name until then. You didn’t know if he knew yours, but he called you Bitch. Useless bitch, stupid bitch, ungrateful little bitch. Good bitch. You responded to Bitch. And soon enough, you were Bitch even in your innermost thoughts. But now you had a name for the man who rescued you, showed you mercy though you were so difficult in the beginning. Because of him, you were no longer a zombie walking the QZ and laboring night and day just for food and clothing. He freed you from the burdens of choice, from the efforts of survival, the agony of humanity.

You didn’t have to throw bodies in the fire, didn’t have to clean officers’ floor on your hands and knees as they leered at you. You didn’t have to fear the FEDRA officers who’d put you in jail just to fuck you. Being human was the worst fate in this world and Master saved you from it. With him, you were safe. Nothing was under your control, so you were now free from self-blame. You didn’t have to fight to keep living a life not worthy of living. You didn’t have to watch others with their children and parents and friends and feel the agony of not having yours anymore.

Here, he’d given you a place at his feet. He reduced you to Bitch, freed you from the humanity that came with the name people used to call you. The world wasn’t such a scary place anymore. After all, you were only his bitch and the world was your benevolent Master.

[cordeliawhohung]

not canon pet!au drabble/one shot.

simon needs to fix johnny's new toy

cw: overall theme of non-con, drugging, medical horror, at home do it yourself iud insertion, dark fic, dead dove do not eat, i'm being so fucking for real when i say simon literally inserts an iud into you himself

You hate to admit it, but Simon’s a good cook. 

Everything he puts on your plate for every meal is fresh and cooked from scratch. Each night when he comes home from work, he’s always got a fresh cut of meat — turkey, chicken, beef — and the vegetables are newly bought, if not recently picked from his garden. The spicy aroma fills the house, calling both you and Johnny to the table before he even speaks, and each bite is as mouth watering as the last. 

It is, perhaps, the only thing he knows how to do with love and care. You catch him cooking every now and then, and stick around to watch for a short moment as he carefully dices potatoes and slices meat. His touch is more tender than the flesh of the animals he butchers for a living, but you are quickly reminded how sharp his claws are the moment you’re seated at the table. 

He won’t stop staring. Dark, endless eyes watch every single movement of yours meticulously, as if he’s waiting to pounce on prey. Instead of glancing at him, you try to distract yourself with Johnny’s chatter. He always seems to have something to say; something to share. It’s odd, for a man who’s trapped inside of the house all day, same as you, he seems to never run out of conversation topics. Yet his words become slurred. Or… no, is it your hearing? You’re underwater with clogged ears and heavy weights keeping your head under, muffling the world around you. Pressure builds on top of your chest, and instead of trying to listen to Johnny, you put all your effort towards breathing. 

When your fork clatters on top of your plate, the clink echoes endlessly. It’s only then that you’re able to look at Simon — to come face to face with the monster who’s lured you once again. 

“Bonnie?” Johnny asks, concern soaking your new name on his tongue. 

Even if you could answer, you know better than to bother with an explanation. This feeling — this terrible, drowning sensation — is something you’re familiar with. You faced this very same demon your last night at work; the night Simon kidnapped you. 

“Johnny,” Simon interrupts. He stands from his seat, food half eaten on the table. “Help me get your bitch to the bedroom.” 

Nothing connects after that. Not the stale scent of blood that fills your nose, nor the floating feeling that lifts you up from the table and drags you elsewhere. You are not in your body. Not when you’re laid down on the bed. Not when your clothes are tugged off, leaving you bare to the brightness of the room. Something sears your eyes. Something bright and yellow, trained on you — blinding you. A specimen, ready to be torn apart. A toy, ready to be fixed. 

You want to sleep. Sleep through the terrible rocking of your body and the twisting sensation that pulses inside of you. Something’s slipping inside of your cunt. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel good, but you can’t make sense of it. You try to mumble something out — a plea to stop, that you can’t get pregnant — please, Johnny, you know what Simon said would happen to me if you got me pregnant —  but it hardly forms on your lips before you’re choking on it. 

Pain blossoms in a place you’ve never felt before. It’s deep, and cruel; unrelenting as it throbs and shoots throughout your pelvis. It steals what little breath you’re able to suck into your lungs, and tears prick the corner of your eyes as something pinches and radiates outwards. Whatever this is, it’s taking something from you. It’s taking, and taking, and it won’t stop. 

Your hips buck upwards in retaliation, trying to free yourself from the pain, but it only gets worse. Something tears through you, and you cry out an animalistic wail. Your hands reach for your lower stomach where you paw at your skin as if you can rub away a pain as deep and evil as this. Like you’d claw through your own organs to get it to stop. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny, I told you to keep her still,” Simon barks. 

Someone presses on your hips, forcing your body back on the bed, but that doesn’t stop the way your chest shudders as you hyperventilate. Warm breath fans across your face as heavy lips press gentle kisses over your cheeks. Salty tears stream out of your eyes and down the side of your head, pooling along the shell of your ear and soaking the comforter below you. A firm chest presses against yours, pinning you, forcing you to stay still as the pain continues, this time with fervor. 

“Hey, hey, Bonnie, it’ll be fine. S’all gonna be okay. Just need ya to hold still for Simon. Please, don’t make this difficult. C’mon Bonnie, you don’t have to cry,” Johnny babbles at you. Each sentence is broken with a kiss, like he can smother away your discontent with whatever his interpretation of love is. “It’ll be fine, just- just stop moving. Don’t… don’t make me, Bonnie, I don’t wanna fight you. Stop it, please Bonnie. You’ll be fine. It’ll stop soon, just stop it.” 

But it doesn’t. It continues. Skin ripping. Flesh peeling. Is this how the animals feel at Simon’s work? Torn apart. Ripped to shreds. Are you handled with the same care he uses when slaughtering creatures who don’t know any better? Is it easier for them than it is for you? Is this the same kindness he shows everything else? 

Johnny is a liar. It’s not fine. It hurts. And hurts. And hurts. And then it aches. 

Whatever Simon’s done to you, it’s finished, and it’s left you with a hole burning through your pelvis. You’ve never been so empty, so void of something like you are now. Johnny’s praises taste bitter as he kisses your lips now, warm hands wandering along your stomach. You’re certain he thinks it’s comforting. Loving, even. But it’s the opposite. It’s the painful reminder that while Simon takes, and takes, and takes, Johnny will always fill you whole with something stale and rotten. 

“There,” Simon huffs. Normally, the sound of his boots stomping on the wood floors of the house makes your heart race, but you’re just glad he’s finished torturing you. “One week. You hear me, mutt?” He yanks on Johnny’s collar, forcing his face away from yours. “One week, and you can play with her all ya like.” 

Johnny responds, but you don’t care to make sense of it. All you can do is lay there, flat on your back with your eyes closed, and pray. You’ve never been one for praying. God has never helped you before, and he certainly isn’t going to help you now, but you can at least curse the son of a bitch out while the blood spills out of you and stains the supple flesh of your thighs. 

i wrote this in one go after work forgive any mistakes <3

[eyesxxyou]

❝ nude bodies ❞ (artist!hobie x trans ftm!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. friends to lovers, a little bit of awkwardness, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader has a t-dick, very sweet sex (bordering on love making), creampie, hobie gets a little sappy at the end. you've been long time best friends with hobie for years, both secretly pining after each other. you both think nothing will ever come of your feelings until hobie asks to draw you nude.

wc: 5k

The sun was hot on your face. The rough sound of pencil meeting paper tickled your ears. Hobie hummed a soft tune while his hand carved out the rough shapes of your face into paper. His eyes kept flicking from his sketchbook to you, his gaze lingering on your closed eyes before wandering a little lower to trace the shape of your honeydew lips.

He reached out, his hand tenderly caressing the side of your face to get you to turn your head to the slightest degree so that the sun hit your face at just the right angle to make you glow honey gold. He touched you like a masterpiece, one of the old greats, like you would crumble if pressed too hard. His thumb traced your lip and you shivered ever so slightly.

“Have ya ever though’ of letting me draw ya nude?” Hobie had a way of saying things. Careless or carefree, you chose because he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, too busy drawing or playing the guitar.

You open your eyes, a deep frown painting itself across your honeydew lips. “You want to draw me what?” You sat up on your arms and Hobie sat up with you on his knees, his hand on your chest to push you back down onto the smooth wood of his deck. “Nude. Was I no’ loud enough? Keep still, dove. ‘m no’ done.”

You sigh and relent, laying back in the sun with your head tilted towards him to catch the golden rays. Hobie settled back down beside you and began sketching again.

You won't say Hobie didn't rattle something within you. Nude was intimate, nude meant vulnerable, nude meant served on a platter with all your feelings splayed out so brazenly before him. You couldn't hide anything from him while naked, couldn't hide how every gentle touch of his warm fingertips made your heart leap and your groin ache with feelings you’re forced to call want. You couldn't hide from his wandering gaze powdered with the stark neutrality of someone who didn't care either way.

“Why would you want to draw me naked?” You try not to move too much while you talk, try not to make a big deal out of his request. Why would he want to draw your body? Your body didn't look like everyone else's, the crescent-shaped twin scars cupping your chest made sure of that. Not to mention all the changes gone on between your legs. You’re not the most ideal person in the world to draw nude according to every societal standard.

But Hobie wasn't one to care about a social standard. “Why wouldn' I? I draw ya all the time. Yer my lovely lil muse.” He touched his pencil behind his ear and set his sketchbook down closed beside him. He shifted himself, laid down right beside you with his head propped up on his hand, looking down on you as you lay below him.

Hobie reached out and pinched your cheek. “Jus’ think ‘bout i’. No pressure. I wan’cha to be comfortable with the idea.” He lied down completely beside you, just the two of you lying on the deck of his boat, shirtless, arms touching all the way from shoulder down to the backs of your hands. You could grab his hand if you wanted to. He could grab yours. Your finger twitches with the idea of it. But that's not what friends do.

“What would happen if I agreed?” You asked timidly. Hobie turned his head, eyes carefully tracing the lines of your side profile. “We’d wait a week before we did anythin’. Jus’ in case you became a chicken and wan’ed to back ou’.” He teased as he always did and that set you at ease as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

His deep-set eyes traced the contours of your face with dedication and admiration. If you hadn't known any better you might have said he did it lovingly. But he was an artist at the end of the day and your best friend. Any love he had beyond a platonic one was for what you do for his art. “You bring it to life.” He once said. He did not love you the way you loved him. You were sure of it.

“Lemme finish this piece then we can grab a bite, yeah?” Hobie sat up and placed his hand on your chest, patting you the way a friend pats another in the back. He doesn't let his touch linger even though every atom of your body begged and pleaded for him to just touch you, touch you anywhere, you didn't care where. Just let it stay there, let it linger a little longer, let it hold so you might know that he's real and he’s yours.

You consider it while he draws with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your belly, tracing imaginary lines and imagining it’s Hobie doing it with the tips of his nimble fingers. He wouldn't make it weird, wouldn't tease you about it for the rest of your lives, wouldn't embarrass you by telling others. That's not how he is. It would just be between the two of you, from one man to another.

Hobie sits beside you in silence, hoping he didn't ruin anything you two had, the soft progress you have made with each other years in the making. He’s been dropping hints for years now, the obvious ones only made in the last few months. Unnecessary lingering touches, brushing his hand against yours to give you the opportunity to grab on and stay that way. He holds your face so softly so fucks sake, leans in so close he might just kiss you but leaves it to you to make the final move. You never do. He called you his muse, told you his art is nothing without you and yet you still look at him with that blank, oblivious look in your eyes that makes him want to tell you straight up that he’s in love with you. You’d probably still tilt your head like a puppy, confused and unknowing.

His eyes lavish over your body, every piece of exposed skin being feasted upon by his greedy gaze. Your eyes are closed, you’d never know. He wants to trace his fingers along your scars, kiss them, kiss you, feel your skin on his and know you a little more than he already does.

“I’ll do it.” You concede. “You can’t show it to anyone though. I’d die of humiliation.”

“Never planned to, dove.” Hobie smiled. “It’ll just be between me ‘n you. It’s just anatomy practice.” Anatomy practice sounded good, sounded reasonable, sounded like he wasn't just trying to find any excuse to witness you naked. Did it make him sick, perverted, what he’d end up doing with that drawing as he did with nearly all his other drawings of you? Did it make him bad that he’d end up with his hand firmly wrapped around his cock, pleading for a single moment, a single chance? Did it make him wrong that he’d ruin the page with cum and would have to redraw it all over again?

You remind him, “I don't have regular anatomy.”

“I don't need regular, dove.” Hobie looks up from his sketchbook, flipping his pencil to erase a small imperfection in his work. “I just need you.”

-

Hobie gave you a week. An entire week to reconsider and yet you remained steadfast in your decision. It wouldn't be weird. Hobie has a way of making awkward situations completely comfortable with his light-heartedness. He never took anything seriously so why should you?

Boarding his boat meant accepting wholly that you’d be naked in front of him and a part of you, while nervous, was comfortable with that. If you were to be naked in front of anyone in the entire world, you’d want it to be your best friend, the person you trust most in this world.

Hobie was waiting for you inside, guitar in lap while strumming some cords to a melody he was humming. You kicked your shoes off at the door and let it slam shut behind you as if it were sealing you in. You can't back out now. You had promised.

Hobie put his guitar down on it’s display rack and tossed the pick into a small box of picks he had sitting on a small table beside his bed. “Mr. Punctuality ova here. I wasn' expectin’ ya fo’ anotha hour.” He hopped down from the ledge he was sitting on, stumbling a bit but ultimately landing on his feet. He came over and tossed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a half-hearted hug.

“You told me to come at 1.”

“But when I say tha’ I really mean 2. You know ion run on other people's time.” He offered a cheeky little dimpled smile across those dark lips of his that you adored more than you could ever say. He rubbed your shoulder a little before patting it and letting you go. You wanted to run back to him, to tell him to embrace you once more but fully this time. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by doing so.

“Are ya sure ya do this?” He offered you one last chance to back out before the two of you started. “We can always stop if ya feel uncomfortable,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, lips curling into a soft, self-assuring smile. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Your heart beat so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat and hear it in your ears. You balled your hands into fists, thumbs in your palms, squeezing with anxiety. You trusted him, knew he would do nothing to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back in a momen’, you can get on the bed when you’re ready.” Hobie went to leave to afford you some privacy. You appreciated his thoughtfulness and watched him go with a shaky breath. You wrung your hands, grasping the hem of your shirt to sooth yourself before you began.

You started with your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it up neatly before placing it on the edge of Hobie’s bed. That was soon followed by your pants, then your underwear. You’re not used to being naked, especially not in Hobie’s boathouse. You felt vulnerable, your hands immediately went to cup your love and cover yourself without so much as a second thought.

You climbed up onto Hobie’s bed and covered yourself with his duvet, waiting for him to return so that you can get this over with. You tell yourself it’s for anatomy practice, that it’s nothing more than that. But there’s something oddly intimate about being wrapped up in his planets, lying in his bed with his deep, musky scent permeating your senses and soothing your raging nerves.

You lay there with your face pressed into his pillow awaiting Hobie’s return. Your fingers gripped his sheets, twisting and fingering the fabric anxiously as you watch the door crack open and Hobie’s head poke inside to ensure you’re properly prepared. He saw you curled up in his bed and smiled with a tender softness. “You ready?”

You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip. Hobie came shuffling in, closing the door behind himself gently. He rummaged about his flat, grabbing his sketchbook and a sharpened pencil before coming over to you in his bed.

Hobie climbed in with you, shuffling over to kneel beside your covered body. He set his sketchbook down and carefully reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket you had covered your modesty up with. “May I?” His eyes were soft looking upon you, they ask for permission too, ask for you to let your guard down for just a moment. They ask for you to trust him

You do. You trust him wholeheartedly. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nod subtly and let go of the blanket. You let him peel it away from you but your hands return between your legs to keep yourself covered.

“Jus' relax f’me, dove.” His slender fingers grasped your wrists, carefully and gently pulling them away from your tender lips. You don't resist him, you let him take your hands in his and remove them from the spot where you find yourself feeling the most vulnerable. There's something about his touches that feels more intimate than before. Your nudity amplified every caress of his hand against your skin. You could feel it linger throughout your body.

Hobie gazed at you, his eyes scanning down the length of your trembling body, hitching at your chest and groin for just a lingering moment. You don’t hear the way he murmurs soft prayers under his breath, a plea for strength, for the worthiness to admire such a sacred body in its most bare state.

Starting the sketch was the hardest part. Hobie was used to touching you, holding your face, dragging a finger along the curve of your jaw, his fingertips kissing your eyelids, tracing the underside of your lips. He was a physical learner and with time, he knew your face like he knew his own palm, all the lines and shadows that made it up.

But he didn’t know your body. Not the way he wanted to.

You could see the frustration crossing his face as he turned his pencil and erased his work for the second time, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Your voice was timid and beautiful, ringing with an air of genuine concern. You hadn’t expected Hobie to ask to touch you.

“F’r visual purposes only. I don’ – know ya body yet. No’ like I know ya face.” His hands wrung against his lap, refraining from making himself too comfortable with your pretty body. He imagined your skin would be soft beneath his palms, supple as he dipped his graphite-covered fingers into your flesh. “You don’t have’ta.”

“You can.” You say almost too quickly. Did he catch the desperation in your voice? Did he catch the way you leaned in just a little further, the way you crossed your legs at the mere thought of his hands stroking down the length of your bare skin. Had you given yourself away? Had you shown all of your cards like an amateur?

You watched Hobie place his things down and come over to climb back onto the bed with you. You sat up and let out a startled little gasp. Hobie was suddenly closer than you had expected, sitting beside you with his hands on either side of your legs to prop himself up.

“Jus’ tell me when t’stop, yeah?”

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but to touch. Hobie started at your face, the familiarity of it offering you ease and comfort. His hand cupped your cheek. Brushing a soft thumb under your eyes, palm cupping along your jaw and his thumb moving up slightly to skim over your soft eyelid. The pads of his fingers move to your lips, tracing them left to right, right to left. His eyes flick between your lips and your coy gaze, too shy to fully meet his every time he looks at you.

His other hand skimmed at your waist. His fingertips touching at your chest, tracing your scars with such loving care. Hobie likes the way you shiver under his touch, likes the way your body rolls as he makes his way lower to your belly where your happy trail begins, leading lower and lower. He doesn’t go all the way though you so desperately wished he would.

His hand touches your thigh, the other trailing down your shoulder, to your elbow, to your hand where his fingers slip beneath yours. Before you know it, your fingers are laced with his. There was something so innocent about it, something so beautiful and soft. His hand on your thigh, tracing circles into your flesh felt just as innocent in the beginning. But his fingers were trailing .along your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there with something far darker that anything platonic.

It was hard not to melt into his touch, a touch so hot that it left your skin burning where he met it. Your chest burned with desire. Your gaze, a little more brazen now, showed as much. You swallowed thickly as you caught Hobie’s gaze and suddenly you were doing just the same as him, staring at that lip piercing that glinted under the dim lighting of his bedroom.

It was the same thought that crossed your minds.

“Can I kiss ya?”

“For your drawing, right?”

Hobie nodded slowly, leaning in with a subtle tilt of his head. His lips hovered slightly over yours, not exactly kissing you but not, not kissing you either. “Yeah…for the drawin’.” He whispered against your lips, taking them with his. He kissed you like he’s been waiting for this moment since he’s known you. Kissed you like he needed this, kiss you in a way that said “if you stop, I’ll die.”

He can't help the way his hands wander, touching you in places he'd never even dreamt of touching in the first place as his hands grow more greedy. His hands trail everywhere, feeling your skin grow warm under his touch as he commits every brush of skin against skin.

You could feel a heat pool between your legs, your pussy ached and your dick throbbed to attention with each inch gained by Hobie’s fingers closer to your wanton core. You spread your legs for him, silent permission for him to touch where he pleased and where you craved.

Hobie did not touch you there, not yet. His hand held your waist and his lips began to trace a trail down the side of your neck, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on your exposed flesh leading down to your chest. He peppered kisses along the crescents of your scars, worshiping exactly where they cut into you and made you a little more of who you are.

His lips pressed kisses down your naval. His hand gripped yours tighter. “Lay back, luv.” His free hand pushed you back gently, coaching you to lie in the mess of pillows stained with his scent. Hobie held your smaller hand, pressing it into the mattress, his free hand still roaming and touching and studying your warm body.

How could he possibly go back to pencil and paper after this? His drawings could never satisfy him now that he’s gotten a taste of the real thing. His art was meaningless now, served no purpose now that your flesh was beneath his tongue, in his hands, gripping, touching, loving.

He’s come on your face a thousand times over in his mind, on his page. But he could not bear the idea of sullying your sacred body with such degeneracy. Hobie would only touch, only please. He would come last.

He settled himself between your legs, his hand parting them a little further until your pretty, wet lips parted with a nice, creamy sound. You turned your head away, embarrassed but Hobie found it quite lovely. You are hard and wet for him, your sweet, little cock firm behind the hood.

Hobie kissed your pelvis just above your t-dick, ending his journey to where you desired him the most. He glanced up at you and found your eyes cast away with what could only read as humiliation.

“C’mon, dove, look a’ me.” He kissed the tip of your dick and smiled as you shuddered with something of a pathetic moan. You willed yourself to look at him with timid eyes. Hobie kissed your tip again, his fingers pulling back your hood to give him more space to work. His tongue licked firm strokes between your soaked lips all the way up to your pretty cock which he licks then takes into his mouth.

He sucked on the engorged bundle of nerves, swollen and sensitive on his tongue. Hobie worships the way you cry a little, your back arching from the sheets, his tongue stroking lick after lick against the tip, each one sending jolts of pleasure throughout your heated body.

You placed one of your hands on the back of his head, not applying pressure but to give him a few encouraging scratches to his scalp. “Just like that, keep going.” Your body shows all its cards and you couldn't care in the slightest. Breathless moans and soft whimpers keep him going, keeps him sucking your pretty dick with his tongue occasionally lapping at your sweet little hole.

Hobie used his fingers to stroke between your pussy lips where you ached the most. It was easy to ease a finger in with how utterly soaked you were and with a few slow pumps, the second finger was not too far behind.

He took his time with you, unraveling you like a gift splayed out before him. He could rush, he could take what he needed but he wanted this to be slow, intimate. He needed to tell you just how much he worshiped his body of yours, how much he valued every piece of flesh you offered up to him. He needed to study you, inside and out.

Your hushed moans were beautiful and the whines the broke out between them were just the same. “My lil’ muse.” He hummed against your cock, kissing it and the flesh around it in an act of praise. His fingers worked in and out of you, curled in search of that gummy little ridge that would send you into orbit and make this all the better for you.

He knew he found it when you let out a nice, little, high-pitched moan and your whole body lept. Hobie chuckled softly, much to your dismay and rubbed you at your sweet spot right where you needed him.

“Why– fuck~ why are you always…so mean. L-laughing at me ‘n all.” You pant out, hips bucking against his soaked fingers, all your pretty, little parts rubbing against his knuckles.

“On the contrary, I think ‘m bein’ rather nice, don' you?” He kissed your belly, slowly making his way back up your body to find your lips again. “I only wanna be sweet wit’cha, luv.” His lips pecked yours once, twice, before he kissed you fully again. His fingers thrust into you, his thumb playing with your dick to keep you nice and stimulated. “You don't think ‘m bein’ sweet?”

You shook your head and he pressed his fingers into your sweet spot to make you gasp. “I-I think you’re the meanest person I know, Hobes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in, your lips still stealing kisses from one another. “I think you’re mean peck ‘cause peck it’s your fingers inside me and not peck you.”

“I can change tha’. I can be so nice t’ya.”

You’re lucky he’s in his pajamas and not his entire getup. It’s easy to get him to pull himself out of his pants enough to reveal his length to you. He’s thick and long, nothing to make a passing statement at. He slips his fingers from your eager cunt and uses them to drag along the tip of his cock, spreading it down his length with a few sloppy strokes against his palm.

Hobie pulled you closer. You settled back against his pillows, whining a little when Hobie pulled his hand away from yours to brace himself against you. You toss your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Your gaze is a bit more confident looking into his and Hobie kisses you softly.

You're dripping, trembling as he drags the tip of his thick cock between your soaked lips. He teased you, pressing the tip into your sopping entrance before pulling away. It coats him, your wetness, making it easier for him to slowly inch his way inside. He stretches you slowly and your nails sink into his back. You bury your face into his neck, muffling your moans.

His hands caress your body, holding you tight as if he craved that same warmth from you as well. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock buried deep within you. He lets you adjust while he familiarizes himself with your tight cavern. Your walls hug him, imprinting every vein, every groove of him. Soft and welcoming like you've been waiting to invite him in since forever.

You two stare at each other, the warmth of one’s breath breezing over the other's supple skin. "Move." You encourage, nudging your nose against his. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before surging them forward. He liked being soft with you, liked touching you like you were one of his drawings, like you would smudge if he pressed too hard.

You didn't mind slow or careful. It made you feel all that more special, like you were worth taking up that time where he could be doing other things. He kept his strokes paced, gentle. The soft slapping of skin mingles with your moans that fill the room.

"Hobie~" You claw at his back, leaving your mark on him in bright red lines that cover his skin. His cock filled you to the brim, pressing every point of pleasure along the way to his tip kissing your cervix. Hobie’s size was nothing to laugh at. He touched places never before discovered, his hips rutting into yours in firm, paced strokes.

He pressed his against the side of your head. Your shampoo was nice, lavender and vanilla he supposed. Hobie made a mental note to write that down in his sketchbook with all his other notes about you.

Hobie smelled like subtle cologne and natural musk. It's comforting, not overwhelming or violently invading your nose. You kiss his neck, along his sharp jaw, and over his prominent Adams Apple. Your teeth nip softly over his supple flesh, easily able to leave hickeys on his skin, smooth as paper.

Your moans are like music to his ears. High-pitched and uneven. With each thrust, he's rewarded with such a beautiful sound. You chew on your bottom lip in attempt to contain them but he doesn't like it. "Uh-uh, I wanna hear you. Don't deny me such a beautiful sound." He reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth with his own. A spark.

Hobie took your hand with his much larger one and laced your fingers with his like before. He pinned your hand to the bed, rubbing off graphite onto your skin, his mark on you, his love on you. “Am I nice enough now?”

You nod, “so nice~”. You sighed out, pulling him in and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “So good.” You murmured against his skin, sucking on that piece of flesh to calm yourself. His strokes were deep, solid, unquestionable in his dedication to his craft.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, then your lips, a innocent little kiss that belies the way he’s fucking you right now, his pelvis rubbing your dick with every roll of his hips.

His hand touches the side of your face, skimming it, holding it, worshiping it as if he were drawing. Your eyes fluttered softly, your lips parted to let out a shaky breath and your eyes admire him the way he admires you, like an artist looking at its masterpiece.

Hobie’s hand trails down the length of your body and reaches between your bodies to touch your dick. He strokes it between his fingers, smirking at the way you cry into the bend of his neck and take the time to bite. You sink your teeth into smooth muscle, tongue lavishing over smoother skin. You’ll undoubtedly lean your mark and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You were so sweet too, so sweet to tell him before you came in short, fast pants. You begged in soft “please”s for him to keep going. “Jus’ like that.” Your legs hooked over his slender hips to keep him in close.

Your mind went hazy with the rush of your climax, your body tensed and rolled with the waves of it. That pretty pussy of your clamped down around Hobie’s full cock, stroking him in beautiful subtly pulses that coaxed him towards his own orgasm.

“Ya wan’ me to cum wit’cha, pretty boy?”

You nod and whine, nails sinking into the back of his neck. Your legs tuck in and pull his hips closer and oh those silky walls of your milked him so nice and thoroughly he couldn't help but to cum.

Hobie didn't mean to cum inside, didn't mean to sully your body with his spunk. He didn't want to ruin you, ruin the temple of your body but God, he couldn't help it and you weren't letting him move.

And oh, he didn't mean to get so sappy, didn't mean to lift your intertwined hands and kiss the back of yours as he came deep inside, hot cum rushing to fill you to the brim. He sighed with pleasure and contentment and looked you in the eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, luv. My lil’ muse.”

He rolled over with you still holding on to him, slipping from his little sanctuary between your legs with a wet pop. He readjusted himself, made himself decent before kissing you on the head.

God, what would this mean for your friendship? Would this become a regular thing? Did this make you something more. You were too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the quiet serenity of the moment.

“You got what you need for your drawing?” You ask innocently, as if he did all of this for some damn drawing. Hobie scoffed against your scalp and pulled away to look at you. “Yeah, but ‘m no’ in the mood to draw anymore. Jus’ lemme hold’ja, yeah, dove?”

You could let him do that.

[buttdumplin]

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's word count: 2.1K

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

~

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

~

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

~

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

[closets-closet]

THIS COULD WORK WITH EITHER PRICE OR GHOST AND I LOVE BOTH SO MUCH SOO U PICK 😖

141 finding out on accident that ghost/price is married?!?! BEEN married. They bug him to introduce them to the missus, and he finally does it so they leave him alone, he takes them to his house made a home by the sweet bundle of light, shes a absolute darling, gorgeous thing. They’re kinda shocked how he pulled that

IM MELTINGGHFBDBSBZK

I LOVE THIS, could you imagine the chaos on base when Johnny or Kyle finds out about this mystery woman. Because we know damn well Simon pulled a drop dead gorgeous wife. Anywhosie here’s my take on this amazing prompt.

“Simon Pleaseeeee” Johnny trails out his arms dramatically spread out infront of him. It was just recently Price slipped up and revealed to the team that Simon was married and has a Missus at home, and that’s all it took for Johnny and Kyle to lose their minds. “Simon” Kyle dead pans “Why won’t you let us see the lady” Simon huffs, before looking at both of them, frustration bubbling in his chest. “Not happening mate, work and personal life stay separate.” He grumbles one more time before pushing out of his seat, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and making his way to the door. “Now if you don’t mind, i’ve got my lady waitin’ for me at home.”

-

“Dove?” You hear your husband call from the front door of your shared home “I’m back” You appear from around the door way to the kitchen, apron tied around your waist and hair up “Welcome home” You smile “I’ve almost finished dinner for you” He walks into the kitchen immediately circling your waist with his hands burring his face in your neck “I’m conflicted” He admits quietly as he takes you in “The boys want to meet you, but I don’t want them to know how lucky i’ve gotten.” You sigh gently hooking your fingers under the black balaclava that covers his face, slowly pulling it off. “It’s your choice, but I don’t mind having them come by, I’ll make them dinner and everything” You hand brushes over his cheek before planing a small kiss across his lips. “Okay then” He whispers leaving into a little bit more “We’ll have them over”

-

“Finally” Johnny cheers excitedly as they walk up the drive to your shared home, a modest one story at the end of a small residential street. “Got you a quaint little place here” Price comments as they stand at the door, the smell of food wafting out from behind it. “Come on in fellas” Simon says as he pushes open the front door.

“Hello everyone” you greet, voice floating towards them. “It’s so nice to finally meet you all, Si happens to talk about you guys a whole bunch.” The smile you gives them melts the boys all to puddles. “Please come in, make yourself at home” you step aside letting them all in.

“Beautiful home you’ve got here ma’am” Kyle says stepping further into the house that’s littered with framed pictures of you and Simon together. “L.T never told me you clean up so well” Johnny teases as he examines a wedding photos that hangs over the kitchen bar. Simon moves to stand behind you, hands resting on your waist gently. Price moves to stand infront of you extending his hand “John Price” He introduces, You meet his hand shaking it firmly “Thank you for keeping him safe” You respond giving him a warm smile that melts him. “How long ye been married” Johnny pipes up from the living room where he’s petting yours and Simon’s cat. “About 3 years” you question out trying to remember exact dates. Simon lets out a long sigh, a symbol this is going to be a long night for him.

-

-

It’s about 23:30 when the boys leave. “That wasn’t so bad” You sigh taking a seat next to Simon on the couch, wine glass pinched between your fingers “They’re good kids” You mention snuggling close to your husband. “They are” He admits looking down at you, the smell of the whisky he’s drinking flooding your nose “Should have em around more often” you say looking to him “They make you smile in a way I don’t see to often” He looks to you smiling gently “I guess they do” He whispers getting closer to you pressing a small kiss to your lips.

I should be his wife *SIGH*

[writtenbymoonflower]

Could I request a poly!marauders comforting a close friend(possibly someone they have feelings for but she was dating someone else.) Just broke up with my boyfriend tonight; he wasn't honest about something vitally important and things just weren't work out out before he even came clean and I feel sick and just need comfort. Please and thank you.

hi baby! i'm so sorry about your breakup. i know there's nothing i can say to make it easier, but i hope this helps. please take it easy on yourself, and my dms are open if you need anything <3 poly!marauders x fem!reader (romantic if you squint)

cw: mentions of drinking, breakups, swearing

880 words

In your defense, when you had initially made the call you didn’t expect all this fuss. Your intention was to kindly let your friends know that you didn’t feel up to going out that night due to your unexpected heartbreak. If you had known that your call would result in two bottles of rose, a gallon of moose-tracks frozen custard, and three borderline sickeningly benevolent boys infiltrating your house, you probably would’ve gone with a vague text. Even so, you couldn’t deny that deep down, you were grateful. 

However, sobbing into the sleeves of your borrowed sweater, with a Disney movie playing in the background while you were periodically fed bites of ice cream and sips of wine was a level of vulnerability you did not expect to reach with your friends.

Every time you thought your sobs had subsided, another wave welled up inside you. You sniffled miserably, pinching your irritated nose clean. Your hands were batted away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart. Your poor face is already rubbed raw.” James kindly scolded you. You nodded, the movement making you feel more lightheaded than before. You were handed a glass of water, not the wine you were hoping for but you still took it. After taking a few sips you set it down, feeling the tears welling into your eyes again. Remus tugged you into his side, letting you nuzzle your face into his soft sweater. 

“Babe, I’m not sure that prick is worth this amount of tears.” Sirius’ tone was sweet, if not a little venomous. He was still cuffed on the back of the head by Remus. 

“Tact, pads. Have some tact.” Remus huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Cry as much as you need to, dove.” 

Strangely, now your tears had stopped. You sat up, though Remus still held onto you. 

“You wanna talk, now lovely girl? Or do you want to be distracted?” James held you from your other side, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“I don’t think I have coherent thoughts right now.” You tried to joke but your tone just came out pitiful.

“That’s okay.” Remus said, thoughtfully. “Just say what's going through your head. This is for you, dovey. It doesn’t have to make perfect sense to us, we just want to be here for you.” 

You nodded, more gently this time, and took a deep breath. “I’m just-” The lump was still in your throat, making it hard to get the words out. “I’m just so hurt, you know? Like I gave everything. I gave fucking everything to this. To him. And I guess I just thought that he would do the same. And I- I’m just so fucking stupid, because I never expected he would do something like this.” Your face screwed up like you were in pain and you fell back into Remus’ chest, silent sobs shaking your body. 

“Oh, baby.” Sirius placed a hand on your leg, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth. They let you cry for the nth time that night, never rushing or scolding you. When your cries slowed again, Sirius spoke up. “I know it hurts, dollface. I know. And I know there is nothing we can say to make it go away.” There was hurt in his voice as he said that. Sirius despised feeling helpless. And emotions were one of the things that made him feel that way the most. He always thought he was shit at comforting people, but in reality, he’s far better than he gives himself credit for. 

“Can you look at me, sweet girl?” James leaned over to catch your eyes. You let him. “Listen to me, what he chose to do says nothing, and I mean nothing about you, okay? You are not stupid, or anything of the sort. It says everything about him, that he knew he had your trust and chose to not be deserving of it. Just because he didn’t love you right, doesn’t mean that you were wrong for loving him anyway. So please, don’t ever for a moment, let his bad decisions affect how you see yourself, precious thing.” 

His words made you cry all over again, but it was different this time. James pulled you into his lap, cradling you like a baby in his arms. 

“Look at what you’ve done, prongs. You’ve broken her all over again.” Sirius said incredulously. For the first time that night, you laughed. It was wet and choked, but it still felt good. 

“There you go.” Remus squeezed your calf. “Didn’t quite like seeing you like that.” You nodded. 

“I don’t quite like being like that.” You half-laughed. James squeezed you again. 

“But if you need to be, we’re here for you, yeah?” Sirius poured you more wine. The other two boys let out loud affirmatives. 

“Thank you guys, really. I think I needed this.” You hoped the way you were looking at them showed how grateful you really were.

“Anytime, lovie.” James kissed your cheek. “Now, I think we need a movie yeah? Something silly. Like Sausage Party. Or one of those shitty horror movies that only scares Sirius.” He grinned cheekily. 

“Oi! Those are really fucking scary!” Sirius squawked. You rolled your eyes, filled to the brim with affection.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!!! Love your work :) I was curious if you would do an emt!marauders where the reader hurts her back and like can’t move well or feel like her hands or feet? And they comfort her and do everything they can to help? I had this happen last night and it sent me to the er. It was terrifying but I’m cuddled up on my couch today and could use some comfort. 🤍

Hi, thank you! I'm really sorry to hear that happened to you lovely, I hope you're doing alright now! The google search for that stuff was a bit scary

cw: back pain, numbness

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius is fairly sure your tears are brought on more by fear than pain, but that doesn’t help the upset in his own chest as he leans over you, kissing them off your cheeks. 

“Just try to relax. You’ll be alright.” 

“I can’t move.” You’re weeping, begging him to understand. You have to be terrified. 

“I know,” he says softly, soothing his thumbs over your damp cheeks. “I know, darling, but the best thing you can do right now is try to ease up. The more panicked you are, the more your muscles will tense.”

You hum your understanding wobbily, and Sirius gives you a smile for your efforts. You’d woken a few minutes ago in obvious agony, gasping in pain as soon as you’d tried to roll over. It had come on seemingly overnight, and waking up with a giant, mysterious pain is already a scary thing without it paralyzing you too. Sirius gets why you’re having a hard time calming yourself down. 

“Alright, here we are.” Remus comes in with an electric heating pad, kneeling to plug it in by the bed. “It’s only your back that hurts, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say uncertainly, “but I can’t really—ah, shit—” You squeeze your eyes shut as Sirius helps Remus get the pad under you, both working as quickly as they can before setting you back against the mattress. You breathe for a few moments while Sirius murmurs apologies and kisses the shell of your ear.

“Can’t really what, dove?” Remus asks gently, taking your hand to run his thumb over your knuckles. 

Your voice is fraught with pain. “I can’t really feel my hands or feet.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. 

“Where in your back did you say the pain was?” Sirius asks. 

You look like you want to shrug, but thankfully think the better of it. “I don’t know, kind of lower down? It’s hard to tell.” 

Remus hums, lips pursed as his thumb moves back and forth over your knuckles thoughtfully. “Could be a pinched nerve,” he says.

“Or something worse,” Sirius contests. “We ought to bring her in.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you insist, desperation sharp in your voice. 

Sirius frowns, but Remus is a diplomat, squeezing your fingers reassuringly and giving you a noncommittal, “We’ve got time to figure that out. Do you think you could eat, honey? I want to give you painkillers, but you should have something in your stomach first.” 

You look hesitant, weighing the cost of sitting up to eat with the benefits of pain pills. Before you can come to a decision, the sound of the front door opening reaches you. 

“Hello!” James calls, back from the gym. “I’ve brought surprises.” 

Despite the worry that’s plagued your morning, all three of you crack a smile at his cheerful voice. 

“Edible surprises?” Sirius yells back, at the same time as Remus says, “We’re in here.” 

James' footsteps grow closer. “Must be a slow morning, if you’re all still lazing around.” He grins as he enters, holding up a paper bag. “And yes, they’re edible. I stopped by—” He goes to flop down beside you on the bed, and both Sirius and Remus lunge to stop him, Sirius saying “No no no!” until James freezes, eyes going wide. 

“Okay, got it.” He holds his hands up, paper bag still in his grasp. “What’s the deal?” He looks between you, brows puckering when his eyes land on your tear-stained cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you manage, and he discounts you immediately, looking to the other two. 

“She’s strained her back somehow,” Remus explains. 

James’ lips purse sympathetically. “I’m sorry, angel. Does it hurt terribly?” 

“Not too bad,” you say, but once again you’re undermined, Sirius giving him a look that says otherwise. 

“Just try not to jostle her,” Sirius says, pouting as he pets your head pityingly. “We were just about to scrounge up something to eat. What’d you bring?” 

“Muffins from the corner store.” James recovers his cheer but it’s still dampened by a bit of worry. He gives the bag to Sirius to sort through. “Is she going to the doctor?” 

“She doesn’t think so,” Sirius says, claiming a blueberry muffin for himself. 

“She can’t even move,” you argue. 

“If only she had any strapping boyfriends to carry her.” He passes a banana nut muffin to Remus. “Lemon poppyseed, darling?” 

“Sure.” Your huffy tone is at odds with the slow, careful way you reach for it, wary of hurting your back by the movement. Sirius holds it towards you patiently, but all your caution is for naught when you try to grasp it and it falls right out of your useless hand. 

You look like you might cry again. Sirius’ heart lurches, but James sets his muffin aside to pick up yours. He breaks off a little piece and holds it to your mouth, laughing when you look at it hesitantly. 

“Come on, angel, people do this to be sexy all the time.” 

“It’s not sexy when one of them’s an invalid,” you complain, but open your mouth to let James feed you the bite. 

“Yes it is, but you’re not an invalid,” Remus chides lightly. “You’re just having a bit of back pain.” 

“When it’s you, we’ll see about calling it ‘a bit.’” 

“I don’t think going to a doctor is such a bad idea,” James says, breaking off another piece of your muffin. “We can do our best for you here, but we won’t know what’s causing it for sure until you get tests done.” 

“Listen,” you say, swallowing a bite, “whether one of you carries me or I walk in there myself, it’s going to hurt. The only half comfortable place right now is this bed, and the last thing I want is for people to be touching me.” 

Remus looks down to where he’s still holding your hand, and you tighten your grip. “People other than you guys,” you amend quietly. 

He gives you a smile. You return it hesitantly. “Alright,” Remus says, “what if we wait until the afternoon and reassess?” You look quite happy with that, and Sirius rolls his eyes, grinning despite himself. He strokes a knuckle down the side of your face lovingly. “Is the heating pad helping at all, dove?” 

“I think so,” you reply hopefully. Sirius narrows his eyes at you, not quite able to tell whether you’re being truthful or merely saying whatever will get you out of having to get checked out. “Pain relievers would still be great, though.” 

“Finish your muffin first,” Remus says, but goes to get them from the medicine cabinet. 

You let James feed you another bite, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Jamie.” 

“No problem, lovie. My mum always said I’d do well working in a nursing home.” 

Sirius cackles. You do too, so hard it you end up gasping in pain. Your face is wet all over with kisses before James is willing to consider it made up.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Wingman (if you squint)

Hyde has a hard time accepting his baby brother is dating but when he attempts to help him ends up embarrassing him a bit

Wc: 1k

He is going to kill him. Rip his head out if needed to have some privacy. Leo looked at him like he was crazy when he asked him if something just moved between those trees before getting brushed off with a ‘you should sleep more, managing that truck must be making you go crazy’ and return to doxxing some rich old men.

But now he was sure, as you were helping him close the truck after lunch he turned to grab a box and saw a white flash hide behind the piano. If it was the first time that week he might have only yelled at him a bit but after getting seriously stalked for at least a month he might end up getting an angry call from their mother because of the state he is going to leave him in.

First it was when you two were hanging out in the fireplace, both sharing a hammock.

“Hey, Sho” you nudge your head against his shoulder, in response he doesn't really move his eyes from his phone but does let out a hum acknowledging you “that spot is really empty” he hums again and mumbles something along the lines of ‘yeah, I guess’ “wouldn't that make a nice spot for a food truck”

“Mc…”

“Just think about that” you sit up while holding his arm, making him sit up while complaining. When he sits he lays his head on your shoulder and anchors himself with a hug around your waist “You could put your truck there and work while I wait here, eating some chips and I can go get you things if you need”

“Maybe…. That would be nice” he mumbles against your skin, looking at the spot before seeing a blur hide behind the old arcade machine a few meters away but brushing it off as his imagination. Even then his arm itches in annoyance but could be the uniform's textile.

The second time he thought he was seeing things was at the manantial it's early morning, the classes don't start in an hour but still you two are walking together to waste some time.

“Would your soups taste different if you used this water?”

“Maybe, but I don't think they would taste good” you look at him in confusion, head dipping to the side “there is a supposed deep water monster in there, according to some vagastorm third years”

“Then make fish stock!” your hand pinches the air with your hand as if it was a piranha and start aiming to his body.

“You are disgusting” he laughs at the childish act and lays the palm of his hand on your face so you stay far enough to not tickle his ribs. Suddenly he stops smiling and focuses on the dragon skeleton, a blur seemingly hiding again behind the railings and the column of the ouija plaza.

“I'm sorry! I didn't notice you got annoyed with it”

“It wasn't that! It's just I thought I saw something strange”

“Oh~~ mayhaps a love dove? Don't you want to tell me something?” you tease as you suddenly stick your shoulder to him, acting shy as if he was going to confess.

“Such an annoying senpai” he tsks looking away, hand scratching his neck and tips of his ears slightly red. Even if you were embarrassing him he was relieved you didn't notice anything weird and killed the mood.

Or the time you two were at the arcade and something was lurking by the adjacent window of the haunted house or how the books falling over when you two were studying for a mission together or Alan calling that someone wanted to meet him while you were hanging out in vagastorm but coming out there is nobody and even Alan is surprised. After a while he figures who it is and is a bit relieved he isn't going crazy but mad he is getting supervised like a toddler.

But he would get to him later, now he has to wrap this up and that would be everything for today.

“Sho, can you lend me 500 yen? I left my pencil case at home and my pencil broke during last class" you put down another of the boxes before asking him, childishly rubbing your hands together as if begging.

He snorts but still looks for his wallet “you are so irresponsible, aren't upper classmates supposed to help their kohais?”

“Don't get so mad at me, when I take lunch from your food truck tomorrow I will bring it” kicking your feet you see something slipping out of Sho's wallet, quickly you bend down and hand it to him, not recognizing what it was until he looked distraught at the little packet between your fingers “sho, something fell down… oh” What fell down from his pocket was a condom “were you expect a happy ending later today?” you tease as you slip the condom in his shirt pocket.

“quit it” he turns around and starts walking to the cafeteria so you can't see his red face.

“H-hey! you didn't give me the money”

Soon after throwing you a 500 yen coin pen Sho sprints to Hyde's office, his stalker and the only one who would have the chance to slip something in his wallet without him noticing, slamming the door open and almost unhinging it accidentally with his abnormal strength and he comes face to face with the bane of his existence thorn on his side, his older brother. Who isn't surprised to see him burning in rage

“Want to explain something asshole?”

“Shohei you finally visit me!” he spreads his arms as if he was going to go for a hug.

“shut the fuck up! What the hell is this supposed mean?” he lifts the offending wrapped condom and stares at his brother, white hair slightly disheveled as he ran as fast as he could.

“I just thought that if you are going to date you might as well be careful” he brings his hand to his mouth and acts bashful “you are just 19 sho, babies shouldn't be having babies”

Snapping at him his hands grasp his own platinum hair “it fell down and now they surely think I'm a pervert because of you”

“At least a responsible pervert! That is better in most people's than a rascal who has unprotected sex”

[13a07s]

Greedy

(Tobio Kageyama Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Kwonrugger]

Requested by: Myself, per usual

Word Count: 3,781

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Brat, Dove/y, Lair, Greedy, Desperate

Hickeys/Scratching

Titty Play

Fingering

Degrading

Mean but soft Dom

Thigh Humping

Accidental Orgasm Denial

Choking

Raw Dogging

Thigh Shot

———————————————————————

     I can feel the sweat rolling down my back, sliding between my boyfriend and me. Despite the broken air conditioning in the hotel room, Tobio refuses to give me space, partly because he's stubborn and partly because he can't sleep without touching me.

     Well, because of all that, I'm lying on my stomach, his arms wrapped around my waist and tucked under me, uncomfortably pressed into my belly. His head is settled between my shoulder blades, his soft breathing mixing with the sweat coating my back to bring a hint of cooling to my body. Our legs are tangled together, only adding to the heat wrapping my body.

     All the blankets have been pushed to the floor, Tobio in a pair of boxers as I lay in booty shorts and a crop top. His added body weight on top of mine makes the heat so much worse. My skin feels like it's scorching, melting right off the bone and joining the puddles of sweat I'm sure are forming under us.

     "Tobio," I huff, rolling my shoulders to try and wake him out of his shallow sleep. He only stopped stirring five or six minutes ago, so he can't be too deep into sleep yet. "Tob," I call again, his name coming out whiner this time. "I'm hot. I want to sleep. You're not helping. Get off so I can cool down for a second," I continue, fully giving in to the tantrum as I thrash around under him.

     "Stop whiny. You sound like a brat," he finally answers, voice raspy from being jerked awake. "You'll be fine once you fall asleep."

"I can't fall asleep. It's too hot."

"You can," he sighs, his head shifting so he can rest his chin on my back. "You're just not tired enough." I let out another whine, this one long and pitched. "Don't do that. I don't like when you whine." No, he doesn't, which is why it's my go-to when I want to get my way, and right now I want to cool off enough to fall asleep.

"Tobi," I whimper, wiggling around under him again. "Fix it."

"Fine," he grumbles, tipping his head again as he picks some of his body weight off of me. A soft sigh releases from me, happy he's finally going to talk to the hotel staff about giving us a different room instead of 'leaving it be'.

     His mouth stumbles a trail up my back, coating his lips in the salty sweat that seems to drench every inch of my skin. Tobio's arms loosen from my waist, one sliding to rest against my hip as the other one shoves its way down my exposed stomach, struggling to move from being sandwiched between the mattress and me. "Move your hips, Dove," he grumbles, tightening his hold to move them himself.

     Tobio lifts my hips upward, just enough to freely move his hand under me. Despite the barely arching and him moving off of me earlier, we're pressed against each other again. He nuzzles at my shirt, pushing the material until it's balled up on the back of my neck. He trails his kisses across the newly exposed skin of my shoulders. One hand keeps inching down as the other one loops around my side again, racing up my body.

     "This isn't fixing it," I breathe out, a different warmth quickly crawling across my skin.

     "Yes, it is," he softly argues, nimble fingers dipping past my waistband. "If you're tired enough, you'll sleep. I'm just helping to waste some energy," Tobio babbles, the most eager of his hands shoving its way under the short shirt I'm wearing, happily cupping my breast.

His fingertips toy with my boob for a second before catching my nipple, instantly pinching it. "Tobio," I whine, my hips jerking against him.

"Dove," he murmurs, still half asleep but his hands are very much awake. "Stop squirming," he orders, lips latching on my shoulder blade, quickly turning the kiss into a rough suck. The hand down my shorts toys with me, his middle finger rolling through my pussy. Up and down, up and down; he pinches my nipple every time the pad of his finger rolls over my clit.

My back starts to arch, Tobio's gentle teasing slowly building my lust. "You're teasing," I whimper, jerking my hips again in hopes of his finger slipping in. I don't get what I want.

"Stop squirming," he grumbles again, his hips working against mine to shove me back into position. Tobio's finger settles on my clit, slowly circling it in tone with him rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger.

A soft ache starts blossoming from the spot on my shoulder he's sucking on. The ache mixes with my arousal, tying my stomach in all kinds of knots. "Tobs," I hiss, my needs lacking fulfillment starting to make my body feel like it's vibrating.

"Dove," he mutters, his tongue sliding over the forming bruise. "Take your shirt off," he orders, nuzzling the material of my crop top again. I eagerly obey, squirming around under him so I can wiggle my shirt off. The clothing is thrown to the floor and added to the piled-up blankets.

Tobio's hand drops away from my titty, disappearing behind me as his fingertip pushes on my clit just a tad more. The sloppy sound of him sucking on them only excites me more, my hips grinding against his hand and the mattress for just an ounce more of stimulation. There's a popping sound, his fingers leaving his mouth and then a "You're greedy. You know that, right?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I know," I babble, irritation from lack of and the need for attention quickly making me more desperate.

"You should be, Dovey," he coos, pulling his hand away from me. It's quickly replaced by two of his spit-soaked fingers, toying with my hole, stretching it but not allowing his fingers to dip past the first knuckle. "You woke me up knowing I have a big game against Italy tomorrow just because your pussy tingled."

"I woke you up because I was hot," I whimper, trying to shove my hips further downward, aching for more. For more of literally anything he's willing to give me. It's not fair how quickly he makes me needy. It's not fair that he always turns it on me. I just wanted to cool down, he's the one that turned it sexual and the one that made me even more bothered by the heat.

"Lair."

I tremble more because of the degrading. "I'm not a lair," I continue to whine, propping myself on all fours, deepening the curve of my back. My hips shift backward with the movement, my ass pressed against Tobio harder and my boobs pushed outward because of the arching.

He shifts too, settling on his knees but still bent over me. "You look like a porn star," he mumbles, the feeling of his eyes scorching over my skin. "Are you trying to be an amateur porn star?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You're acting desperate." Tobi asks, finally inching down to his second knuckle. The shaky moan that rips from my throat is embarrassing. More soft moans spill from me, eased out by the soft suckles and the few nibbles he paints my back with.

It's not fair. Why does my boyfriend get to be so hot? So good at playing me? So mean? So quick to make me desperate by the smallest of touches?

My head quickly nods, hips bucking backward again. I need him deeper, I need him to move faster, I need more. "It's pathetic how much you get off on being talked down to. A greedy cunt gets wet from being treated like this. Is your cunt wet? Is it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Tobio, I'm sorry. Please?" I ramble, continuing to rock my hips.

He lets out a sigh, his fingers thrusting deep into me. Another embarrassingly broken moan falls from my mouth, my pussy finally getting the attention it wants. "It's okay, Dove. You're a pretty girl, even if you are greedy and desperate," he mutters, lips brushing across my spine, spilling shivers across my body. "My pretty girl," he adds, slowly pulling his fingers out of me before inching them back in.

"Your pretty girl. I'm your pretty girl," I mumble, the attention I desperately wanted quickly not being enough anymore. "Please Tobio?"

     His hips roll against my ass, his dick pressed against me and starting to harden. "You sound desperate. Are you desperate? You're certainly greedy. Is this not enough for you? You're ungrateful."

     "I'm not desperate. I'm not greedy. I need more, please," I whimper, shifting my weight so I can shoot my hand down, gripping the wrist that's resting against my stomach.

     Tobio's fingers stall in me, unable to thrust in and out because of my grip. "You're not greedy?" He taunts, curling his fingers in me, keeping the slow teasing rhythm. "I should be sleeping and you're whining that it's not enough. That's greedy."

     "I'm not greedy," I repeat, nails digging into his wrist, rocking my hips again. "Tobi, please." He clicks his tongue at me, yanking his hand to take away what little stimulation he was giving me. "Tobio," I huff, shoving my butt against his boner.

     "Nope," he mutters, hands gripping my hips and pushing them off of himself. "Greedy girls don't get what they want, so I'm going back to bed."

     "What?" I yelp, jerking my head around to look at him. Tob moves from behind me, flopping on the bed next to me. Disapproving noises spill from my lips as I watch him stretch out in the bed, eyes shut as he lays on his back. "Tobio," I whimper, darting toward him, settling with his thigh between my legs.

     "Dovey," he hums, a hand jumping to grip one of my titties. His thumb rolls over my nipple, his other fingers squeezing my flesh. My hips roll against his thigh, grinding against the defined muscle to stimulate myself. "Greedy girl," Tobio coos, peaking at me with a soft grin on his face. "So desperate to get off that you're willing to hump my leg until your cunt is drooling all over me."

"You're being mean. Why are you so mean?" I babble, my hands pressed against his chest to steady myself as I ride his thigh.

"I'm sorry, Dove," he coos, twirling my nipple between his fingers again. "I'm just tired," Tobio hums, dragging himself into a seated position. His back is to the headboard and his dark blue eyes are locked on my face, watching me pathetically trying to get myself off. 

     "Tob," I try whining again, my hands jumping to cling to his shoulder. My nails are instantly digging into his muscles, clinging to them, tearing at them, as I hump him like a dog.

     His grin only grows at my little act, his free hand jumping up to play with my neglected boob. "Dove?" Tobio calls back, skillful fingers twirling, pinching, and tugging at my nipples. "Stop whining and tell me what you want."

     "You," I exhale, my breath rising the closer I get to finishing. I change my mind, I don't want Tobio, I just want to cum. An approving hum leaks from him, his hands leaving my chest to grip my hips. "No! No, no, no, no," I almost cry when he lifts my hips off of him.

     "You're fine, greedy but fine," he lectures, continuing to pull me forward until our noses bump each other. "Give me a kiss," Tobio murmurs, fingertips sliding past my waistband again, slowly pushing my shorts off of me. I happily oblige, brushing my lips against his as my hands slide to wrap around his neck.

Our kisses heat up with every passing second it takes him to tug my shorts off of me. By the time they're around my ankles, ready to be tugged full off of me, Tobio's tongue is exploring my mouth. His tongue rolls over mine in tune with his lips dancing with me. A displeased groan escapes me when he pulls away, pearly teeth pressed into an egotistical grin. "Greedy girl," he coos, pulling my shorts off and tossing them off the bed.

When his hands are off of me, my hips instantly fall back down, grinding against his thigh again. "I know. I'm greedy. I'm so greedy. I need," I cut myself off with a bumpy moan, my hands knotting with the hair on the nape of his neck.

Tobio chuckles at me, the tone of the laughter soft and entertained. "You need what, Dove?" He hums, a hand on my hip, helping me ride his thigh. "To cum? Is my greedy girl so greedy that she needs to cum too? You can't stand just being edged, you just have to finish too," he rambles, his eyes crawling across my body, sticking on my titties before falling to the mess slowly leaking onto his boxers.

"Please?" I murmur, yanking on his hair before my fingers loosen my hold. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," I ramble, running my fingers through his hair.

"You're fine, Dove," he mutters, his free hand shooting back to rub at his neck, soothing the ache I'm sure the hair tug left. "My greedy, Dovey," he teases, both arms on my hips before he flips us over.

Tobio's lips explore my chest, his mouth sucking on any skin he can reach. My back crashes to the mattress, legs wrapped around his thigh and arms tighter around his neck. He's settled on top of me, pressing his leg against my dripping cunt, continually rubbing against me. One of his strong hands settles on the pillow next to my head, holding his weight.

His other hand is sliding down his stomach, inching toward his boxers. My hands loosen before falling away from him, colliding with the bed sheet and balling it up. "Tobio," I whimper, my back curving to work with his leg. My eyes are locked on his boner, chilled claws ticking down my spine when his dick pushes past his waistband.

"Patience, greedy," he mutters before his mouth latches on my boob, sucking on my nipples as his tongue slides over it. My body is buzzing with excitement, sparks of my approaching orgasm making my pussy tingle and waves of arousal coating my chest from Tobio's fixation on my breast. His hands grip my knees, tugging my legs off of his thigh.

"Tobio," I hiss, disappointment and irritation from another stumped orgasm replacing the heavenly vibrations that were just coating my veins.

"Hush, you're fine," he grumbles, situating my legs over his shoulders before his long fingers settle on my throat. Tobio's lips dance over my breast, pressing me further into a ball so he can reach them. "Here you go, greedy," he huffs, his breath rolling over my spit-soaked nipples, making them harden even more.

The tip of his dick pushes into me, instantly sparking the edge of my orgasm again. "One," he mutters, head lifting, his forehead settled against mine as his eyes stare straight into my soul. The fingers wrapped around my throat tightening the slightest. "Two," he adds, pushing himself further into me. "Three... four." For every inch that slips in, Tobio's hand tightens around my neck. "Five... six." His head falls to my titties again, kitty licks sliding against each nipple before he looks up at me again. "Seven... and eight."

My legs are already trembling, tightening around Tobio and squeezing his cheeks. Wetness leaks from me, coating his balls resting against me. His tongue clicks a couple of times as he looks over me, almost bored eyes scanning my face. "Your pussy is still trying to suck me in. Are eight inches not enough? Do you really need more? Are you that greedy?" He taunts, my cheeks heating from being called out o my pussy clenching around him.

"You're perfect. I swear. Perfect. Tob, please," I babble, my voice wheezy from my airflow being cut smaller.

He hums, eyes glued to my breasts as his fingers relax just a smudge. "I should go back to sleep. I have a big day tomorrow." A whimper mixed with disappointment and need squeaks out, breaking some of the boredom in his eyes, and causing his lust to start taking over. "You'd probably spend all night humping my leg though, wouldn't you? Too horny and greedy not to get your way."

"Please?"

Tobio rolls his eyes, a grin toying the edges of his mouth. "Fine, Dove," he mutters, failing to hide the excitement in his voice. He drags himself out of me, slowly inching his way back in. "Who's my greedy girl?" He coos, thrusts picking up speed as his lips slide across my boobs, littering them with kisses.

"Me. I'm greedy. I'm your greedy girl," I instantly give in, degrading myself so he doesn't get any ideas about denying me again. My hands release the sheets balled up in my fingers, jumping to cling to the wrist wrapped around my throat. "It's me, Tobio."

"Ya, it is," he huffs, hips snapping against mine, adding to the aches starting to form. The position hurts my joints, being folded in half, and pushed into a ball so Tobio can enjoy having his face squeezed and getting to suck on my breasts. "My greedy girl. My greedy pussy. So desperate for me. All mine."

"All yours," I echo, squirming under him. His dick feels good, I love being split open by Tobio's cock, but it's not enough.

The squirming catches his attention, his thrusts slowing down as his eyes scorch over my body, trying to figure out what's going on. "Always wanting more," he grunts, moving himself on top of me. More of Tobio's weight is pressed into me, helping his dick reach deeper and adding more pressure to the chokehold he has on my throat.

With his weight off his free hand, it slides down, the pads of his fingertips instantly finding my clit. "Better, greedy?" He grumbles, his hips snapping against mine again.

"Yes," I hiss, nails digging into his wrists and my thighs crushing his face harder.

Tobio grumbles, spilling out insults about my greediness, a few insults being broken up by his grunts. His cock is never out of me long, plunging right back into me as soon as he pulls out. "Do you hear that?" He mumbles, latching on my nipple for a second. "Do you hear how wet you are? How sloppy your cunt sounds? It's only going to sound sloppier when you cream all over my cock."

The degrading and teasingly slow swirls to my clit do it for me, finally, bringing the orgasm that's been denied twice already tonight. "Tobio, Tobio, Tobio," I moan, releasing his wrist to reach for his shoulders. My nails tear at him, clawing up and down his chest and shoulders, unable to keep a grip on him because of his continuous thrusts. My chest pumps quicker as my orgasm washes over me, the choking I'm receiving making it difficult to keep up with my breaths.

Tobio is unfazed by the scratching, but his fingers do loosen around my neck, allowing more air to pump into my lungs as I come undone. "Breathe, Dove, calm yourself," he murmurs, his thrusts slowing - but not stopping - as his fingers massage my neck. "Calm down, you're doing great, greedy girl."

"Tobio, Tobi, Tob," I whimper, finally being able to grip his shoulders, using my hold to pull him closer. "Please!"

"Calm down," he coos, but he does give in, thrusting into me faster. My head is filled with a soft cloudy buzzing. Tobi was trying to be nice, trying to let me take a breather as I wind down, but I'm too greedy to take the offer. Too greedy to allow him to stop while his dick is still hard, still prepared to pump me full. "Greedy girl," he insults again, soft sucks being littered across my breasts, chunks of my flesh being sucked into his mouth.

"Please?" I whine again, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Everything feels like a lot. Tobio buried in me, rubbing my pussy, his fingers feathering over my clit, his mouth and tongue sliding over my breasts, paying attention to my nipples. Still, I need him until he's spent.

"I'm almost there, Dove. I promise, just hold on for a second," Tobio murmurs, hand tightening around my throat again. His breath is huffy, his end approaching quickly like he promised. His head snaps up, leaving my nipples sore and soaked from his constant sucking. "Needy, greedy, dove," he hisses, hand squeezing until my oxygen is completely cut off, filling my head with a new layer of fogginess.

     The thrusting of Tobio's hips picks up, snapping faster, pressing into me harder. His eyes stay locked on mine, sharp and focused, the same look he has right before the ball falls into his hands, ready to be perfectly set in the middle of an intense game. "Fuck," he almost whimpers, breaking the burning tension that was spilling from his eyes.

     Both his eyes and dick tear away from me, cum shooting out of his tip. His movement isn't fast enough for him though, the warm stickiness coating my thighs. "Damn it," he groans, fingers loose and his head buried in my titties once again. "I wanted to finish on your boobs," Tobio mutters, brushing feathery light kisses across my skin. "You make me greedy too, Dove. Greedy for your pussy."

     I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips, enjoying the fact Tobio is as needy for me as I am for him. "Next time," I hum, careful fingers crawling across his shoulders, feeling for the already puffing scratches that coat them.

     After a few moments, he moves off of me, his actions slow and careful. "Are you tired now?" Tobio asks, his whole body freezing when he moves my legs, my hip popping from finally being let out of the position it was stuck in.

"Ya, I am," I mutter, sleepiness washing over me like a spell as soon as his question is out.

Instantly, Tobio's attention is on my hip, massaging it as he lathers it with kisses. "You stay right there," he mutters pulling away to climb out of bed.

      My droopy eyes follow his movements, watching him head toward the bathroom. "Gladly."

     He looks over his shoulder for a second, a soft smile on his face as his blue eyes sparkle at me. "What a greedy Dove I have."

[nadvs]

omg, please more reader and rafe in the future after college and their baby, love it

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

blurb continuation from the watch and learn series

Your toddler has officially started walking, and with walking comes grubby little hands wanting to explore everything.

One day, your daughter’s pulling out the contents of the closet in your spare room out onto the floor while you and Rafe sit with her on the hardwood, letting her have her fun.

She’s babbling as Rafe absentmindedly runs his hand up and down your back. He always does this, likely not even conscious that he’s touching you. You love it, how he intuitively needs to have contact with you.

“Be careful with that one,” he calls out to her as she yanks out a yearbook. When she promptly kicks it away, you giggle into Rafe’s chest, feeling him shake with laughter.

“She’s so destructive,” you say.

“Just like her mom,” he mumbles.

“I know you meant to say dad,” you scold.

“Hey, what’s this?” You laugh at Rafe’s attempt to distract you. He picks up a photo album you put together back when you first moved in.

He opens it to a random page, which happens to be a photo of you two at your college graduation.

“Your fuckboy hair,” you say, purposely shushing so she doesn’t overhear the swear word. Your eyes travel over his bangs peeking out beneath the black cap in the photo.

“You loved it,” he reminds you. You smirk, running a hand over the buzzcut he’s sporting now.

He flips to another page, full of photos from your post-college road trip. You point to a picture of him at a restaurant sitting in a booth.

“God, remember how dingy this place was?” you laugh.

“Only restaurant for miles,” Rafe groans. He can recall how much you two laughed over breakfast that day.

When you skim to another page, you see a photo of you two on the beach almost a year after getting married. You recall how you found out you were pregnant the very next day.

“Whatever happened to that shirt?” you ask, gazing at the open striped button-up he’s wearing in the captured memory.

Rafe points to your daughter.

“We were playing outside and I got a grass stain on it, remember?” he says.

Now you do remember. Your daughter was merely crawling at that point, but when she got too close to the concrete pathway, Rafe dove to grab her, ruining his clothes in the process.

“That was 100% on you,” you reply with a shrug. Rafe smirks. It’s true. In his eyes, his daughter can do no wrong.

When she tries to pull down clothes from the hangers in the closet, he jumps up to pick her up, kissing her cheek.

You watch your husband with a proud grin. He was once so afraid of affection and now he wears his heart on his sleeve. Only with you two, though.

Rafe meets your eyes and feels enamored by your smile like he always does.

“Thanks for putting that together, baby,” he says, glancing down at the album. He remembers the photos you had all over the walls of your college dorm. He always appreciated your sentimentality.

“Thanks for making me so happy that I wanted to,” you say sincerely. He leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Can you give a kiss, too?” he asks your toddler. She erupts in giggles at the way he holds her, swinging her above you as she plants a kiss on you.

“So nice!” you cheer, gently pinching her cheek.

Rafe straightens and squeezes her into a tight hug. Even now, years into your relationship, he wonders if he really truly deserves this happy of a life.

But the way you look at him reminds him that you think he does and that’s enough for him.