#kinda messy but i think i got the point across
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svturn-exe · 1 year ago
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been trying to think more abt sarah and her motivations more lately but it's hard to find the exact words to explain wht i mean? so i'm just gonna ramble until i get there <3
so bps right. wanted criminals. they stole a bunch of tech n shit and are wanted by the fbi for violating the television & mirror destruction order (and probably also for other crimes, given adam's apparent casual disregard for the sanctity of crime scenes and private property, and how casually he suggested just. yknow. let's Steal A Car bro :)smile) cool cool we all know this, this is canonically established information
and i'm just wondering about. sarah's intentions behind starting the bpc, soon to become bps . bc like ok cool ghost-hunting club. awesome
but then the tv & mirror destruction order happens . and the bps. steals a bunch of banned stuff or otherwise refuses to give it up? or something to that effect. sarah presumably being directly involved in this descision and not just adam, given tht sarah does apparently still actively manage "PR" after the ban
that's a lot of effort to go through for just. ghost hunting. so there's gotta be some other motive behind it right?? i don't think sarah would be going to these lengths just because adam like. strongarmed her into it. girlie could beat his enderman lookin ass easily
sarah is still clearly grieving and angry over her brother's death. and. i was thinking about mark's reassurances journal. specifically one of the pages shown in vol. 333:
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'whoever is reading this, please stop it before it does this to anyone else'
do you think sarah saw that. when she got into the mcpd site via thatcher's dogshit password
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joontroverted · 7 months ago
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of course other women want your boyfriend
pairing: nanami kento x reader
tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.
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"your dad's kinda hot."
the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.
you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.
no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.
and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.
"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.
her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"
you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.
"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"
"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.
"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.
that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.
"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"
"there you are, sweetheart."
kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.
nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.
almost.
"ken!" you breathe.
"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"
"hey!"
his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"
"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.
"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"
"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.
"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.
"sweetheart, i think- "
you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.
"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"
"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.
"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."
she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.
kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.
"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"
aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.
you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.
"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."
his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.
deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.
kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.
"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."
warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.
"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.
aiko!
you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"
aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.
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DO NOT REPOST
yay first fic!!!
likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷
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scudslut · 8 months ago
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Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other
lazy mornings w/ daryl
daryl x f!reader
wc: 1k
warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni
a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)
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daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.
he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.
and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.
you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.
it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.
you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.
“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.
“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”
“mhm, you?”
he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.
speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.
his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.
he snorted at that, “i already always do.”
“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.
his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.
“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.
“D… just a few more minutes.”
but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.
“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.
“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”
he watched as you feigned contemplation.
“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.
“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.
daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.
he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.
“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.
he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.
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sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️
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thisfanisgonesorry · 1 year ago
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groupie love — hobie brown
guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮 
tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent
(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)
🕸️
One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)
Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.
“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.
“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.
“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.
His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.
“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.
“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.
“... Yeah.” I nodded.
His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck, 
“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.
He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.
“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”
One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.
He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it. 
Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.
My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.
“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again. 
“Didn’t mean it like that.”
He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.
“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.
“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.
He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.
He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.
“I was about to say the same thing.”
I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—
“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.
I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses. 
“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”
He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.
“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.
“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.
He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.
“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.
“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”
I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.
He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.
“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”
“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.
“You’re sorry?”
“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.
He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.
His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.
“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”
“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”
“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.
He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.
“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.
He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.
He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.
“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”
“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”
“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.” 
“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”
“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.
“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.
“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.
“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.
“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”
“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.
“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.
“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”
I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.
“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.
The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.
I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.
“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”
“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”
“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”
His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals. 
“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”
“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”
I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.
“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”
“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.
“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”
I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.
“Hobie—” I cried out.
The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.
“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.
“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.
“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”
He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.
I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.
He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.
“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.
“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”
I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.
“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”
“Hobie—”
“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”
His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.
“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.
“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”
There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.
“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”
His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.
“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care. 
“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”
He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.
“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.
His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.
I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.
“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.
We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.
I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.
His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”
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yeonjun4beagles · 1 year ago
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01:54a.m | cyj
summary: ....in which youre aaking yeonjun to teach you how to suck a dick
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"are you ready, y/n?", yeonjun asked, looking down at you on the floor, quirking his eyebrows. "oh shut up, choi, lets just get to it", you huffed, making yourself comfortable in between his legs. "patience, tiger. for someone who doesnt know how to suck a dick, you for sure knows how to use your mouth", yeonjun smirked, which caused you to roll your eyes.
"okay, look, i think im gonna have you to start first with sucking on my fingers, cuz, you know, i dont want you biting my dick off or anything" -which got you to roll your eyes, again- "and please make yourself comfortable", yeonjun gently smiled at you, always thoughtful, even when youre literally facing his dick. "i am, yeonjun, so lets start, yeah?", you said, eagerly taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips.
yeonjun's thumb grazed your lips slowly, feeling the plush flesh underneath his fingers. you cant lie that what hes doing is starting a fire in your belly but it is, and you kinda like it. "open your mouth, pretty", yeonjun whispered, tugging at your lips. as your lips parted, yeonjun gently pushed his finger against your tongue, coating his fingers in your saliva. you then closed your eyes as you wrapped your lips around his finger, already imagining what would it feel like to have his length in your mouth instead.
you start eagerly lapping at the pad of his thumb, swirling your tongue on the tips of his fingers, eliciting a groan from him. "fuck y/n, youre pretty good at this but, lesson numero uno, i need you to slow down, hm? take your time and build the tension", yeonjun guided you as he breathed heavily through his nose, clearly collecting every ounce of his patience just not to shove his dick down your throat right now. listening to his words, you slowed down your administration, slowly licking the length of his finger, feeling every ridge of it. "and look at me while youre at it, princess", yeonjun demanded, the name making your thighs squirm.
you peeked through your lashes, seeing yeonjun's face, adorned with blush on his cheeks, his lips a little swollen from the bitings he did to stop his moans. he cant believe that someone sucking on his finger got him this aroused, but damn, is he now. "thats a good girl", yeonjun praised you, his other fingers gripping the side of your face. "continue, baby. youre doing so good for me".
you then closed your eyes again, about to continue, before you feel yeonjun pulling his thumb off your mouth. "nuh-uh, eyes on me, baby, lesson number two, eye contacts are important", yeonjun spoke, his eyes piercing right into yours. god, since when did his eyes were this enticing? you trained your eyes on him as you hollowed your cheeks on his finger, sucking it into your mouth, drawing out a sharp breath from him. at this point your drools are already dripping down his palm, but oh he lives for the messiness.
"y/n, i would lie if i say youre bad at this cuz youre way past decent at this, princess, fuck, you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, yeah?", his dirty words caused you to moan around his digit, making him groan at the vibrations. you popped off your mouth from his digit, pulling yourself closer to his crotch. "yeonjun, please, i want you inside my mouth", you whimpered, tongues out, practically drooling for his cock. "fuck, baby. you look so damn pretty right now, all dumb for my cock, arent you?", yeonjun snickered while hastily shoving his pants and boxer past his knees, his length hitting his abdomen, glistening with precum.
you could practically feel your mouth waters at the sigh of his cock, his hands wrapped around them, before hes dragging it across your lips.
"shit, open your mouth, baby. and lesson three, start with small licks, especially the tip", yeonjun said through his gritted teeth, getting a little impatient. you obediently opened your mouth, giving kitten licks to his tip, which got him whimpering and throwing his head back. gaining confidence, you suddenly wrapped your mouth around his head and started bobbing your head, making him accidentally thrusting into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.
"holy fuck, im sorry, baby. are you okay?", yeonjun caressed your hair as you coughed a little from the unexpected thrust. "yea, just a bit suprised. can you do that again, jjun? i wanna make you feel good", "god, i am so gonna be dead, of course, baby", yeonjun smiled, guiding your mouth back onto his length, this time slowly pushing his cock to the back of your throat. "breathe, baby, through your nose, youre gonna do so much better, okay? for me".
yeonjun cursed as you swallowed around his length, your mouth starting to suck him again as you started feeling comfortable again. "shit, do that again, baby, and im gonna cum down your fucking throat", yeonjun hissed as you did exactly that, moaning around his length. yeonjun then wrapped his hand around your hair, slowly fucking your throat with shallow thrust, making you whimper. "yeah? you like that, baby? like that im using your mouth to get off?", yeonjun groaned, his high nearing. you could only hum around him, your mouth stuffed full, with drools dripping down your chin.
"y/n baby, im close, fuck, are you gonna swallow my cum like a good girl? are you gonna be good for me?", all you could answer was with a muffled moan, only eager to please him now. yeonjun thrust started getting faster, hitting the back of your throat harsher, making you gag around his length. with a drawn out moan, he came down your throat, and you swallowed every drop of it.
"look at you, swallowing me like a champ, you fucking sexy", yeonjun praised you, his thumb wiping your drools off your chin before licking it into his mouth. "you did well, y/n. so well, such a good girl for me", the pet name making your arousals wash over you. yeonjun would be lying if he didnt see the way your thigh keeps squirming while you were sucking him off. "you okay there, princess? want some help", yeonjun teased you, his eyes clearly eyeing your crotch.
"oh shut up, you asshole", you smacked his thigh, clearly embarassed that youre obviously turned on from sucking him off. "but thankyou tho, jjun, for, you know, teaching me", you sheepishly thanked him, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. yeonjun chuckled at your sudden shyness, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. "you are welcome, y/n. and im serious, i could really help you with, you know, if you want to". yeonjun said as his hands snakes around your thigh.
"really?"
a/n: ahhhh honestly idek how to end this 🫠 but here you go, after months of not writing hehe enjoy!! feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
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ghostbustting · 3 months ago
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Going on vacation with current james and he is always horny because he is seeing you in a bikini all the time soooo (maybe Marathon sex??) ☺️
kinda short, but mmgmtmdhdjsns 🤭 (also, happy late late birthday to semaj)
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╰┈➤“𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑼𝑻𝒀„ ๋࣭⭑
Current!James Hetfield x Reader
Contains Smut.
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My body felt terribly weak, limp, tired. As well as my throat feeling sore from all the filthy noises I have let out for the past.. two hours, possibly, or three. I couldn’t even tell how long have we spent our time on this vacation just in our hotel room, bedsheets messy, our minds completely forgotten about the seconds ticking on the clock, not even noticing when rain starts trickling down onto the hotel room balcony, not even stopped by the time the rain stops.
His body was all I felt, his soul connected to mine. My eyes couldn’t help but gaze up and down the beautiful man in front of me, bare. Meanwhile I had to give in to his request, my bikini set staying on my fucked up state of a body, sweat all over my skin as I let the older man take great care of me— or rather, himself.
The whole morning, as we spent our time at the beach, my skin weren’t so oblivious to the eyes that rakes up and down my body, the only thing covering me being my bikini set that James seems to adore on me, his eyes never leaving the way the bikini top desperately try to cover up my breasts as I play around the beach, or the way my bikini bottom almost failed to cover up my ass, never failing to make his tongue dart out to swiftly lick over his bottom lip.
No wonder he was stuck on that damned deckchair the whole time, the towel we got from the hotel draped across his lap, a pathetic attempt to hide his hard boner that’s seeking freedom from behind his swimming trunks, one of his hand tucked under the towel and the trunks, desperately trying to get off before the boner gets worse, thinking I wouldn’t notice the quiet fucking moans leaving his lips every now and then, it was so obvious. And it was obvious as well that jerking off at this point did not work for him.
I supposed that was what led us here, on the hotel bed, fucking for what I remembered is our seventh round by this point.. or was it eighth?
James had me on all fours for him, his hands on my hips as he was on his knees behind me, his fucking jerk of a dick leaving and entering my numb and swollen hole, weak and desperate whimpers leaving my lips as I try to hold onto my position, my legs and hands shaking.
”Fuck.. so nice.. so good..” He groaned, fingers on my ass cheeks, nails digging into the soft skin ever so slightly, red from the countless times he had hit me there previously. Not that I mind.
Several parts of my body felt itchy, especially my neck, chest, and thighs. Those are from what I suspect are his teeth bitten marks, always hurts yet always make me feel so good, wanted, needed. The moment James loses control of himself, he was always like a puppy that’s been let out of his cage. Wild. Mean. Uncontrollable.
Tears were streaming down my red cheeks, pouring down onto the pillow below me, now soaked from my salty tears. I couldn’t quite feel my body completely, feeling several aching, yet the way his cock fill my desperate hole up is just way too irresistible, feeling him move in and out of me, the tip of his cock hitting every spots I didn’t even know exist in me before he showed me.
My breath came out in gasped heavy ones with every thrusts he made, fingers clutching onto the sheets below me tightly, trying to hold onto something desperately, cause it truly feels like I’m about to fall and drown into a sea of unbearable lust if I didn’t hold onto anything.
”J-James.. please..” I gasped out, panting as my hand gave up on keeping my position up, my body falling from being on all fours, limp on the bed, flinching every time he thrusts into me as small sobs leave my lips, “A-ah.. mm..” I whimpered, biting into the sheets to prevent myself from letting out more noises.
I just felt so weak. I can’t even release anymore, my body was aching so much. But at the same time, he felt so good. He make me feel so loved.
James grabbed my hips and pull them up, making my ass perk up on display for him as he held onto my waist, his cock thrusting in and out of me like there was no tomorrow. “Shit.. one more, princess.. okay? Can you do that for me?” He breathed out, shaking his head as he try to focus on his movements.
Despite being terribly weak, I force myself to nod and whimper out a silent, “Y-yes, James..”
He let out a breathless chuckle, stroking my skin as he whispered out in that goddamn seducing voice, “Atta girl..”
My eyes were as wide as they can get, almost popping out of their sockets as his thrusts make my mind swirl, losing control of myself as all I could do was just lay there underneath his big body, voicing out the pleasure he make me feel, eyes rolled to the back of my head.
”God.. fuck.. you’re so fucking enchanting.. that fucking bikini.. it makes me go insane.. what did your parents do to create you?”
His endless compliments only increased the tightness of the knot that was yet again appearing in my stomach for what felt like the thousands time now, my moans coming out in between my choked sobs, my fingers grasping to any part of the bedsheets I could hold onto around me.
”Let go, princess.. let go..”
And that’s what I did, my release this time gushing out fast, squirting all over his cock as I screamed out his name like my life depended on it, my walls clenching around his cock one last time as he pumped in and out of me and let go of his own release as well, groaning loudly.
I feel the sticky cum of his coat the inside of me, making me whimper at the feeling, overstimulated by how many times he had done that for the past two hours, not even able to feel anything now. Just numb. But so fucking pleased by the way he treated me.
Slowly, I begin to relax into the mattress below me, my chest heaving up and down, the breath coming out of me were unstable and shaky, my legs still shaking somehow. “You’re fucking crazy, James..” I shook my head with a huff.
James leaned down to my face, his fingertips coming to touch my cheek, his thumb darting out to wipe away my tear and stroke my cheek lovingly before he whispers, “Too bad we’re not done yet.”
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slow-motionlovepotion · 1 year ago
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𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓
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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:  boston era! joel miller x f!reader
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.6k
𝒂/𝒏: i woke up at 5am this morning and smashed this out rather than working on any of my other numerous wips ~ no beta (or edit), we die like men - minors do not interact.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ ~ sex work, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it kids), slightly coercive behaviour, dirty talk (joel miller has a filthy mouth), creampie, mentions of drug dealing & murder (joel is a drug dealing murderer but that's canon so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone), possessive!joel, kinda mean joel, joel is a tease, degrading language (whore, multiple times), idk i think that's everything
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: pleasure has a price and Joel is willing to pay whatever it takes to have you
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ⇢
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Joel often heard talk from the other smugglers, of pretty girls that’d sink to their knees for a few ration cards or a couple of pills. He pretends not to, but he listens, acting like he couldn’t care less about their sordid activities. 
“What about you Miller? You don’t fancy a visit to one of our girls?” Some ratty 20-something asks one day. Joel just rolled his eyes.
“You really think I’d pay for some whore you’ve all had your dicks in?” His disgust is false, an act. In truth, he’s no better than them, couldn’t care less how many guys a woman has fucked before him. 
Besides he’s got Tess. 
Except now he doesn’t. Doesn’t have a warm body to sink into, to fuck his stress out on. She’d cut him off, rightfully so, when she implied she wanted more and he continued to offer her exactly the same. 
So when a comment is made in passing one night: “You hear Danny’s girls got into the whoring business?” His ears perk up. 
He knows Danny, knew Danny, before Danny was resting not entirely in peace. If you were to ever leave the QZ and see a guy who looks an awful lot like Danny but, say, had mushrooms for eyes, no you didn’t. 
Tess had been the one to deliver the bad news to you while Joel had stood uncomfortably in the hallway, listening to your broken sobs through the door. 
Maybe that’s why Joel finds himself knocking at your door, long after curfew, just returned from a run where he’d listened to those arseholes describe in great detail how they’d be paying you a visit, all while Joel kept his back to them, hiding the hardness in his jeans as he’d pictured what he’d do to you himself. He really was no better than them. 
“Joel Miller. To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile but it’s tight and it doesn’t reach your eyes 
“Can I come in?” He asks like this is normal behaviour but that’s the Joel you know, always direct and to the point no matter how rude it comes across. Gritting your teeth you step back, allowing him into your apartment. 
“Nice place” he surveys your home, bathed in a soft pinkish light from the lamp next to your bed, a book discarded on the messy sheets. 
“What do you want Joel?” You try phrasing your question differently to get him to get to the point. You’re tired, it’s been a long day and Joel is not easy company. 
“I heard you’ve become a bit of an entrepreneur, started your own business” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you and you want to slink back to the shadows at his confrontation but you don’t, you stand firm, refusing to buckle under his stare. 
You’d expected word to travel faster, you’d started working about a month after Danny’s untimely demise, all of a sudden fending for yourself, no longer benefiting from the additional earnings afforded the smugglers. You’d tried to keep away from that business, only taking clients that you knew had no connection with the likes of Danny’s friends and Joel Miller but maybe you hadn’t been as careful as you’d thought. 
“Do you have a problem with that?” You challenge. It’s awfully rich of him, coming into your home and giving you his opinion on your job, like his line of work is any better. He’s nothing but a glorified drug dealer and a murderer. 
“Of course not. Why’d you think I’m here?" His tone is serious, this is not a social call, it’s business, your business. 
“I thought you were with Tess?” You ask, more so to give yourself time to actually take in what he’s saying, not because you have any issues providing your services to men of an entangled nature. 
“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask questions” he shoots back
“I don’t, usually. Just looking out for myself, last thing I want is Tess comin’ around here thinking I fucked her man” 
Joel sighs, he’s not her man. Though he’s not surprised you would think that, people thought that before they started fucking and apparently still think that even after they’ve stopped. 
“You ain’t gotta worry about that darlin’” 
“Payment upfront” you concede and Joel nods, pulling a stack of ration cards out of his pocket. 
“What’ll this get me?” He places his payment on your kitchen table and you eye the stack, easily enough ration cards to keep you living comfortably for months. 
“Whatever you want” you say, you’ve done this for much less. But had you not been enticed by the thick wad of cards, you might’ve reconsidered that offer considering everything you know about Joel.
He thinks it over, dropping heavily into the corner of your sofa, one foot on the floor, the other muddying the already stained fabric. 
“C'mere” he commands and when you’re close enough he points to the other end of the sofa “Facin’ me” 
You sit, bringing your knees up to your chest, your t-shirt does nothing to cover your modesty but your shins are blocking the view Joel really wants. 
“Spread those legs darlin’, show me what I’m payin for” he tilts his head expectantly. 
You spread your knees, keeping one leg bent and dropping the other to the floor, your new position almost a mirror of Joel’s. You know he wants more, reaching down you pull the scrap of lace to the side, exposing yourself to his gaze. 
He lets out a groan at the sight of you, cunt glistening despite the fact he’s not even touched you yet. 
“Pretty girl” he breathes. His eyes flick to his offering on the table “Whatever I want?” He confirms and you nod “Ah-ah, words darlin’. I wanna hear you” 
“Yes Joel, whatever you want” his hand flexes on his thigh and you can see the growing hardness in his jeans. 
“Take it off” his command gives you some idea of how this is going to go, he’s going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. 
Your hands find the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips, slipping them down your legs and when you reach your ankles Joel holds his hand out, smirking when you drop the fabric into his waiting hand. 
“And the rest darlin’” You pull your t-shirt over your head, revealing yourself to be bare underneath. The t-shirt drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you lean back, returning to your position, legs spread and on show for him.
Your fingers automatically slide between your legs, spreading your wetness up to your clit, circling the bundle gently. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you, hands quickly working at his belt and jeans, freeing his length with a relieved sigh. 
Thick fingers wrap around his even thicker cock and it’s like your own personal fantasy, Joel Miller thrusting into his fist, just for you.
You increase the pressure on your clit but keep your pace slow, teasing. It’s a dangerous game to play, acting without instruction but while Joel is watching you with heavy eyes and he’s not telling you to stop, you continue, dipping your fingers into your cunt, bringing them up to show him the wetness coating your fingers. 
He doesn’t stop you when you return your fingers to your clit, doesn’t stop you when you pick up the pace or when your breathing starts getting harder. 
In fact he puts on his own show, spitting into his palm and picking up his own pace, twisting his hand over the head, his free hand tracing abstract patterns over his thigh. 
You could get off like this, you’re going to get off like this, legs tensing and core tightening. A gasp gets caught in your throat as your orgasm builds, almost there, and then it’s gone. 
A growl rumbles in Joel’s chest when his hand grabs your ankle and you’re pulled flat on your back. He’s hovering over you, hand pinning both of yours above your head, your thighs hooked over his. 
“Not gonna come on your fingers” he pants by way of explanation, pushing the tip of his cock between your soaked folds, catching your clit and nudging at the entrance to your cunt. “Gonna come on my cock” 
Joel buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp thrust, the stretch is so satisfying it sends a shudder up your spine that has your back arching and your hips tilting down into his, desperate to feel the ache that comes with being too full.
“Look at that, got my entire cock buried in you and you still want more” Joel taunts you, his arm slipping under the arch in your back as he withdraws and pushes back in again. 
“Joel” you gasp as he fucks into you, pulling you down to meet his thrusts. His pace is unrelenting, thick cock dragging against your walls, the slight curve catching just right on that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake and your head go foggy. 
“Say it again darlin’” it comes out as a snarl but there’s a hint of a plea in there. 
“Fuck Joel, oh yes just like that” you push yourself further into him, his arm tightening to keep you there. 
Your shoulders burn and your fingers are going numb with the restricting grip of Joel’s hand around your wrists. It’s intimate, too intimate, Joel’s breath hot on your face and his entire body flush against yours. Joel must think so too because he pulls out, hand around your waist flipping you over so your face is pushed into the cushions and your hips are raised. Before you can even catch your breath he’s forcing himself back into you.
“Fuck, so tight. Especially for a whore” you don’t expect your cunt to clench at that and Joel definitely doesn’t expect it either. He lets out a shocked laugh “You like that? Being called a whore?” He pulls out and slides back in, the action and his question pulling a sinful moan from you. 
His pace from this angle isn’t so unrelenting but it’s harder and deeper, his hips and thighs flush against yours as he bottoms out, pulling out so you can just feel him resting at your entrance, so you feel the stretch of every thrust, over and over and over again. 
“Such a whore, letting anyone fuck this cunt for a couple ration cards” his hand grabs your hair, tugging so your back is pressed to his chest and his arm wraps around your waist, thumb flicking over your sensitive nipple. The hand in your hair pulls, turning you to face towards the table and his payment “My whore now. Those cards should be plenty enough that you don’t need to do this with anyone else” 
Like this, his cock nudges that spot inside you again and this time you cry out, ragged moans falling from your lips with every snap of his hips. And his words, god his words, wash over you like a too hot shower burning your skin. 
“All mine, just for me. Not gonna let anyone else touch you” You don’t realise that’s a question until you feel a sharp smack to your rear. “Tell me you’re not gonna let anyone else touch you”
“Not gonna” you shake your head as you speak “only you” 
“Tha’s my girl” he murmurs and oh you like that, the idea of being Joel’s girl, being the one he spends his nights buried inside. 
“Yes, your girl, just for you” His mouth is on your neck and he bites down as you speak, sucking bruises onto your skin. 
If it was anyone else you’d tell them to stop, no one wants a whore marked by another man but he owns you now so you let him. Hand reaching up to grab his hair, keeping his mouth on you, giving him permission. 
His free hand works its way between your legs, flicking your clit with practised fingers and you’re suddenly right on the edge, release within reach, you just need a little bit more. As if Joel can sense exactly what you need his mouth breaks from your neck and his lips find your ear 
“Is my whore gonna come for me?” He teases, pulling a frantic litany of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ from you. “C’mon then” 
The waves that had been steadily building crash over you, shaking violently as your cunt tightens and flutters around his cock, pulling him in deeper. Light bursts behind your eyes and your hands claw at his arm keeping you upright, nails biting into his skin. You don’t hear the scream you let out but you feel it burning in your chest and your throat. Your ears are ringing, muffling the sound of Joel talking you through it. 
When you finally return to yourself Joel is still thrusting into you, your head resting heavily on his shoulder behind you.
“Gonna come in this cunt, fill you up” that snaps you back to reality 
“No. Joel you can’t- can’t do that” you panic slightly, wanting to push him away but he’s too strong, grip too tight.
And really, if you’re being entirely honest, you don’t actually want to push him away, you want to take what he gives you but it’s unrealistic and you can’t let yourself want that. 
“Yeah I can, you’re mine now. Or have you forgotten already?” You shake your head, no you haven’t forgotten but no he still can’t come inside you “don’t worry’ll get you the mornin’ after pill” 
His words are slurred and his thrusts are losing rhythm and you realise he’s holding back, waiting for you to say yes. His arm around you squeezes in warning and you can feel him tense behind you. This is it, the ultimate trust exercise and it’s now or never. Your hand entangles with his around your waist and you nod. 
“Fuck, yeah. Want it, wanna feel you fill me” His fingers tighten under yours and he picks up speed, fucking into you sloppily and panting against your temple. 
With a final thrust and a groan you can feel in your own chest Joel spills into you, holding himself so deep it’s painful, ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on your walls with every drop of his release. 
“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me” he breathes hot into your ear, hips twitching as he comes down from his high. He doesn’t let you go straight away, naked frame held tight against his fully clothed one. You untangle your hand from his when your legs start to ache, knees protesting as they dig into the well worn sofa, slumping forward when Joel finally releases you. 
Your body is exhausted, eyes heavy and stinging with the effort of keeping them open. Joel’s up and redressed before you even think about reaching for your t-shirt, uncaring as you lay naked on your sofa, marked body on display for him. 
Joel’s calloused fingers trace the blossoming bruises that litter your neck and shoulders, his touch surprisingly tender. His hands find yours and help you up so you’re sitting, holding your t-shirt out to slip into, the marks on your neck are visible above the neckline of your shirt and a dark sense of pride washes over him.
“I meant what I said, enough cards there to keep you comfortable for a while, don’t wanna hear you’ve been whoring yourself out again” His confession takes you by surprise, you honestly hadn’t thought he meant it, men say all sorts of things in the throes of passion, you’d know.
The realisation sends a shiver down your spine, you’re his girl now and you don't mind that one bit, the kept woman of Joel Miller.
𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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vibingpyro · 9 months ago
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Hot Damn
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A simple bet is how your night started.
A simple, yet incredibly irritating bet. Hobie's best mate, Jensen, had opened his fat mouth, likely running on more than enough liquid courage then the amount both Hobie and you had drank in the few hours you've been at the bar.
"I'd bet that you two love birds can't manage to not touch each other by midnight." Jensen bets, his open beer nearly sloushes over the table as he gestures to Hobie's arm drapped over your shoulder, you roll your eyes but you can just feel Hobie's gears moving in his head at the taunt from Jensen.
"Oh? And what are you betting?" Hobie hums, eyeing Jensen over the rim of his own drink, quirking an intrigued eyebrow at his best friend, rubbing his hand up and down soothingly where it rests on your upper arm. Jensen shrugs, before his eyes brighten, likely with an not so good idea you presume. "How about this, you guys don't touch each other until midnight and I'll shut up whenever you tell me to, and I'll even throw in a six pack." He throws in, and you see Hobie look down at you in silent question 'what do you say?' Hobies eyes communicate.
It isn't necessary an...awful idea as you expected it to be, so you nod in agreement. "Deal." You say, taking an swig of your own drink as Hobie retracts his arm from your shoulders with one last lingering touch before placing it on the table as Jensen smiles cheekily.
How hard could it be, right?
Apparently it's about as hard as walking an straight line when you're pissed drunk.
You stew in your irritation, occupying yourself at peeling away the already ripped leather of the booth seat you're sitting on, flickering your gaze to watch Jensen and Hobie playing pool across the room. You think you're the only one suffering from the no touching bet, until you notice the small longing glances Hobie sends you way whenever Jensen turns to line up his pool cue, his eyes lingering on your form as his lips frown in an sympathetic gesture.
You sigh quietly, stopping your picking distraction of the poor leather seat to take another swig of your drink, nearly choking when you hear an familiar voice call out to you, "Hey! I didn't know you came here. What a coincidence." The voice laughs and you turn in your seat, eyes widening in confirmation. It's Jeremiah, your most recent ex. Walking right up to your table.
You clear your throat as you muster an tight fake smile, absolutely caught off guard from seeing Jeremiah after months of not running into him, debating if it were truly an coincidence.
"Jeremiah! What a...pleasure, I didn't expect to see you here either." You laugh, although it's tinged with nervousness as you push down the disbelief you're feeling. You glance over at Hobie, expecting him to be unbothered playing with Jensen still, freezing up slightly when you're met with Hobie's unimpressed pointed look at Jeremiah, looking him up and down, before his gaze meets yours, with an much softer look although it's still cautious.
You nod, reassuring Hobie from across the room that you've got this. Hobies shoulders lose a bit of their tension, his grip on his own pool cue loosening as he nods back, giving his own reassuring small smile before turning his back to return to playing with Jensen. Hobie knows you can fight your own battles although that doesn't stop him from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every now and then.
Jeremiah settles himself across the booth from you, his eyes taking you in as If it's the last time he would ever see you. "Well, you certainly have changed, haven't you?" He hums, leaning his hand on the table top. You give an small shrug, "Yeah, that's kinda what happens when you don't see each other for months." You murmur, looking at Jeremiah with unimpressed eyes. Your split with him wasn't necessarily messy or emotional, he just claimed to have lost feelings and you both parted your own ways.
Jeremiah chuckles a hint bashfully, "I suppose you have a good point." He smiles slightly, his eyes drifting down to where your hand rests on the tabletop, his hand beginning to move not so subtly towards yours.
"I was thinking we could-" Jeremiah is cut off by an quick flash of color, an arm placed right between Jeremiah's hand trying to meet yours, slamming against the table "So sorry." Hobie's unapologetic voice says, his hand pulling back with one of his many rings in the palm. "Forgot my ring." He smiles unrepentantly although the smile doesn't reach his eyes as he places the ring back on his index finger. You're sure there weren't any of his rings on the table when he left..
"Oh dear, don't tell me I'm interrupting." Hobie says as he slides into the booth seat beside you, his tone filled with sarcasm, he seemed hell bent on letting this poser on knowing he wasn't welcomed as he glares expectantly at the man across from him.
Jeremiah practically flinches back in his seat, his hands moving up in an placating defensive motion. "I didn't know she was with someone, I'm so sorry mate." He apologizes, and you can practically feel how wound tight Hobie is as his leg bounces slightly beneath the table with adrenaline.
"Sorry? Nah, nah, you're not sorry but if you're not out of this booth by the time my girl blinks, you will be." Hobie's voice drops into an unfriendly blunt tone, Jeremiah staggers to his feet, taking no chances, you're half tempted to blink just to see what Hobie had planned for him.
Hobie lets out an chuckle, watching Jeremiah retreat to the other side of the bar with such quick feet you'd think his feet were on fire. Hobie leans back in his seat beside you, his arm twitching as he begins to drape it over your shoulder, just barely remembering the bet as his arm hovers, adjusting it to lay over the back of the booth with an irritated huff. "This bet is going to be the proper death of me." He murmurs beside you, and you sigh, nodding in agreement, resisting the urge to cuddle up against him as you normally do whenever in reaching distance of him.
"How much longer do we have?" You ask, bringing your drink back to your lips to take the last swallow of the refreshing liquid. Hobie leans his head back, squinting his eyes as he reads the clock hanging above the entrance of the bar. "Thirty more minutes." He groans softly, you groan along with him at the news. "This sucks." You murmur, rubbing your hands over your face.
Hobie hums in agreement, his eyes drifting over to where Jeremiah is ordering an drink at the bar. "Especially with that bloody poser.." he rolls his eyes, his fingers twitching momentarily as he moves to brush an lock of hair out of your face before pulling back with barely restrained frustration, it doesn't help when Jensen comes by with a tray full of drinks, sitting down across the booth.
"I got the drinks!" He says with such drunken cheerfulness it makes your teeth grit not to mention Jensen being both Hobie and yours reason for being irritated, "Oh, fuck off Jensen." You and Hobie say in unison. Jensen just sighs, used to this treatment, "Why does everyone hate the guy who brings the drinks?" He murmurs.
Thankfully about twenty five minutes goes by swiftly, partly due to the nice liquid distractions in front of you. Hobie seems to still be tense, gripping his drink tightly as he drinks at it, his attention seeming elsewhere while his foot taps against the ground beneath the table, you're more interested in listening to Jensen yap on about his girl troubles, using that as another welcome distraction than losing the bet and accidentally touching Hobie out of pure instinct, although your distraction excuses himself to the restroom leaving you wanting for more juicy girl drama.
The clock on the wall begins to ding, indicating it's midnight, you don't even have an moment to think before you're hoisted from your seat beside Hobie and into his lap and spun around to face him as something hard presses into your inner thigh. "Alright, if any of you don't want a show, get out!" Hobie announces to the bar, before his head ducks into the crook of your neck, pressing hot open mouthed kisses and nips to the sensitive flesh there, your protests getting caught in your throat.
There aren't many patrons in the bar, thankfully, but the ones that are there begin to already shuffle out, even the bartender decides to fuck off, merely telling Hobie to lock the door behind him once we're done. Jeremiah is seen gawking at the bar, rooted in place. Hobie turns his head to face him still nuzzles into your neck, sneering slightly. "You had your chance, mate. She's all mine now." And to prove his point Hobies large hand comes down to your ass, squeezing and fondling you through the fabric of your jeans, making you squeal slightly as he rocks you against his erection in his jeans, the friction hitting against your clit just right.
"Be a good lap dog n' scram." Hobie huffs, one of his hands moving to shuffle your shift up, pushing past your bra to suckle at one perky nipple, you can't help but melt into his touch after so long of being restricted from him, wrapping one of your hands into his wicks to push him further into your chest in encouragement, you don't even notice Jeremiah rushing out with an small barely noticable limp, he's going to be nursing his own excitement all by himself it seems.
Hobie continues to lavish that one nipple before pulling back to give an similar treatment to the other, swirling his talented tongue around the sensitive nub. You whine impatiently, grinding your core against his erection through his pants, he grunts at the friction, moving back to look at you with blown pupils, his hips rising upwards to meet your needy movements.
"Tell me who you belong to, lovey." he huffs, his head burrowing back into your neck, biting and suckling purpling love marks. Your back arches as he finds your sensitive spot on your neck with familiar expertise, "Mmfh- I'm all yours, only yours." You reassure him softly, your hand still gripping gently into his wicks.
Hobie groans against your neck before he pulls back, "That'll do it." He nods, lifting you out of his lap to stand before quickly hopping out of his seat, unbuttoning and pushing past the confines of his pants while you do the same, once both barriers are out of the way, he gently but firmly bends you over the tabletop, giving your ass an quick appreciative smack, rubbing it when you turn your head to glare at him half heartily. "You missed my touch didn't you, sweetheart?" He hums, nudging his length to your wet entrance, coating the tip of his dick in your arousal, even in his own need he never fails to tease you at least once. You nod with an whine, trying to roll your hips back onto him, even widening your legs to further entice. "Of course I did! Please just fuck me." You huff with an hint of desperation, trying to look back and see if Hobie at least looks like he'll be merciful and fuck you properly.
Hobie chuckles, one hand moving to wrap gently around your throat as he leans over your back, "So impatient, be a good girl n' take it." He murmurs against the shell of your ear you don't have a moment to call him a hypocrite before his hips move forward, his cock sliding in with barely any resistance from your wet walls welcoming him inside, the both of your groan in bliss as the wonderful feeling of being connected.
"That's it baby, so good f'me." Hobie groans, beginning to thrust into you, pulling almost all the way back until sinking back in with deep strokes, finding an rhythm quickly, you can't help but whimper beneath him, your hands in front of your to steady yourself from his deep thrusts. His grip on your throat remain gentle and sweet, his thumb stroking softly at the marked flesh of your neck.
"O-only for ah~ you." You choke out, barely heard over the sound of wet skin on skin, and Hobies heavy breaths and groans. His dick twitches inside of you, his head goes into the back of your neck as his thrusts falter for just a moment. "G-goddamn.." he curses, "Sweetheart, if you keep saying stuff like that I won't last fer' much longer..." He pants against your neck, the hand not on your throat holds your hip steady, as he pounds into you.
Your walls flutter around him, as the coil in your belly tightens in arousal as his words hit a certain chord in you. You practically purr as your hands turn white on the grip on the edge of the table, you know it isn't a good idea but fuck it, you're already here. "Not gonna fuck, a-ah~ me proper?" You tease through your moans, and that seems to be Hobies final straw, he growls before the hand on your hip drifts to your inner thigh, lifting it up before he thrusts up into you, way deeper because of the new position. "This 'proper' enough for you?" He huffs into your ear his accent thickening, not waiting for a response as he thrusts up into you like his life depended on it, his hand moving further, moving your thigh onto his forearm while he begins to apply just the amount of pressure to your clit the way you like it.
You yelp, your hips bucking at the sudden stimulation and your orgasm practically crashes down on you, Hobies name getting caught in your throat. Hobie hisses at your walls clamping down on him, his own orgasm ripping through him as hot thick ropes of cum flood your velvet walls, you both cry out together as you share your climaxes, Hobie softly fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure, murmuring soft praises into your ear and for a moment, you're both panting and basking in the afterglow until an door is heard creaking open.
"Hey, where did everyone go?" Jensens clueless voice chimes, Hobie and you look over just in time to see Jensen return to the main area of the bar, his eyes widening comically at the sight of Hobie leaning over you and his hand still gripping your inner thigh, your lower half practically on display.
"Hot damn.."
"Fuck off, Jensen." You and Hobie groan in unison.
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devilstruly · 7 months ago
Text
DETANGLED
pairing - sakusa kiyoomi x fem. reader (with any hair type that isn't pin straight)
summarization - you are frustrated when you meet with your best friend and he's tired of you speaking badly about yourself
includes - mutual pining, dogs shipping their owners, rich boy kiyoomi, sexual tension (+ anything i might've missed)
a/n - please accept my sincerest apologies bc this is incredibly self indulgent 😭😭. i wrote this on a bad hair day and i just kept thinking about kiyoomi and his pretty hair. also both he and reader have dogs. kinda short, not my best work. again apologies
A cold wind blows through the streets, sending a part of Sakusa's coat flying behind him. The man inevitably shivers as he buries his nose deeper into the knitted scarf and balls his gloved hands into fists.
Above his head, the sky is a very soft shade of gray, with the clouds so thickly condensed into a barrier for the sunlight. Across the dog playground a loud bark can be heard, the sound feeling all too familiar to the man.
He smiles softly beneath his mask when he sees the energetic doberman, happily approaching his friend. And soon enough, the owner joins Sakusa's side as well.
'Hi!' You greet him with a smile when you take your place on the man's right, with your back leaning against the metal fence.
'About time.' Sakusa's remark earns him an eye roll and he can't help gloating a little on the inside.
'Listen I almost had a mental breakdown over my hair you should be lucky I even got here.'
With a huff you cross your arms over your chest, blowing away a stray hair that disrupted your view. To your surprise however, Sakusa turns to face you, eyes roaming over the strands formed into a very messy updo.
'I told you before, your hair looks fine. You're stressing over nothing. Again.'
'It's not nothing!' You protested. 'I just wish I could make it look prettier. Like get the curls to be defined or something so it's not just a blob.' Your reasoning was followed by another eyeroll, this time accompanied by a small pout.
Sakusa looked in the direction of the two black dogs again and stood quiet for a couple of seconds before he called his pet over. The black shepard rushed over happily, with your doberman trailing behind him.
Once they were seated before the two of you, the man crouched down and secured the leash before turning towards you.
'Let's go.'
'Where?' You questioned while mirroring Sakusa's previous actions and following him through the gate of the playground.
'Just follow me.’ Was the only thing he let be revealed before switching the topic of the conversation. 'How was your day?'
-
Sakusa navigates the busy streets expertly while he keeps up the conversation with you, before his steps come to a halt in front of a store. It's a pet friendly one, of course it is, because even though you're not aware of it, he plans on spending at least forty-five minutes inside.
Brows slightly raised in curiosity, you trail behind him, only to nearly head face first into his broad back when he stops.
'Gah! Warn a woman next time?'
He promptly ignores you and instead reaches out to touch the front strands that fell out of your bun.
'Hm.'
Feeling slightly exposed by his soft touch and the proximity, you do your best at avoiding direct eye contact, which he fortunately doesn't seem notice.
'I think these would work best for your hair type.'
His arm stretches out and places two bottles in the basket he picked up on the way in, before continuing.
'You use the shampoo twice, only on the roots, and the conditioner once, just the ends.'
You can only manage a small nod, feeling kind of clueless with him leading you through the store like this.
'I should've made a list...oh well...these will do.'
He shoves another load of products in the basket and at this point you've given up on trying to be of use, giving him free reign instead.
-
Once the two of you are in line, you instinctively reach for your wallet, assesing the items in the man's hands.
'What do you think you're doing?'
His voice is as smooth and gentle as ever, and his dark eyes fix on yours so intensely that you want to slap yourself for all the inappropriate thoughts that run through your mind.
'You're not seriously thinking of paying for all of this!'
'I brought you here, it's only fair.'
'Kiyo-'
'End of discussion.'
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https-murdock · 2 months ago
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A Cause for Celebration - Matt Murdock
summary: Having won his most recent court case, Matt takes you to dinner and agrees to drinks at Josies afterward - except you never make it to Josies.
word count: ~1.5k
warnings: porn with tiny plot (if you squint), unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), oral m and f receiving, dirty talk, fingering, 18+ MDNI
note: kinda feel like this is the best smut yet? probably still terrible but i tried my best!
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The pain in your knees was starting to be noticeable - but it was nothing in comparison to the ache between your thighs.
As the dribble starts to drip onto your lacy bra clad chest, you close your mouth and look up at Matt who is gently stroking himself. His eyes are closed, small grunts leaving his chest as his spare hand moves to grab the material on your tits, grunting again as he feels the lace attached to you.
“Open.” Matt says, and you do as you’re told, knowing it’ll be very much worth it. He moves his cock onto your tongue sticking out of your mouth, tapping a couple of times to give you the precum he knows you like. “Good girl, ‘take me so well.” He mutters, unsure whether he’s talking to you or himself.
He slowly sheaths himself inside your mouth, bottoming out as his hips twitch at the back of your throat. As he begins to move his hips, gently at first, you can’t help but think of how perfect the night that has just passed was - Matt had taken you out after a busy work week, you were meant to mean Karen and Foggy at Josie’s afterward too, you just hadn’t got that far before going back to his apartment, he had won his most recent court case and wanted to celebrate.
And what a good celebration this was.
“Hmmph, Shit.” Is barely audible above you, as you try your best to press your thighs together, trying to seek some form of release from the ever building feeling. “Good girl, sweetheart, just keep taking it.” Matt says, hitting the back of your throat and groaning at the sounds your mouth makes around him. He starts to move his hips faster, hitting the back of your throat each time, making more spit drip from your lips and the sound of it hitting your skin is like a drug to him, choking on the words he wants to say.
You pull off his cock gently, leaving a little ‘pop’ sound behind, before saying “you taste so good. wanna feel you”, and giving his tip little kitten licks as the fingers that adorn your messy hair pull slightly stronger.
“Not yet, need to taste you first.” Matt firmly says, pulling you up off his hard floor and tossing you on the bed, using one hand to undo your bra and the other to rub his fingers over your clothed folds.
“Already so wet for me. could smell you.” He uttered, slowly taking both sides of your panties and dragging them off your legs, no where near quick enough for the way you needed him.
Laying your head back onto the pillows, you close your eyes and just hope he hears how badly you need him, how fast your heart is beating for him. “All for you.” you confirm, feeling him spread your legs with strong hands and lay himself between them.
Trying to relax into the feeling, you let your legs fall as wide as you can, Matt running has calloused hands across your legs and leaving trails of goosebumps behind. Gently kissing the inside of your thighs, your brain almost has no words left to form already - and you’re wondering how you’ll last long enough to have him buried deep inside you if you’re already lost for words.
“So pretty. All mine.” Matt is almost talking to himself at this point, continuing to run his fingers across your skin. Your chest is heaving, waiting for him to finally let you feel his mouth across you.
Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull when he finally touches you with his mouth - or rather his teeth, when he gently bites into the plush skin of your outer folds, before delving in with his tongue, licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, making you gasp and grip onto the sheets so hard you know your knuckles are turning white.
“Taste amazing, ‘been missing this all week.” You hear from between your thighs, which are being held open with strong arms.
“oh fuck, Matt, yes.” Is about all you can say when he finally attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently and revelling in the reactions he’s gaining from you. He’s teasing you, alternating between sucking and kitten licks on your wetness, knowing what he’s doing to you and how desperate you are for more.
Finally letting you feel the full extent of his love for your taste, he starts eating your pussy like a man starved. Tongue delving into your slick, teeth grazing across your clit as he lays between your thighs and listens to the way you moan.
If he wasn’t enjoying this so much, he’d be worried about the neighbours hearing.
“O-Oh my god, I’m so-“ You try to speak, but a full sentence is a lifetime away as you finish with a gasp, and Matt knows exactly what you need to tip you over the edge, using his large fingers to pry you open, knuckle deep and continuing his assault on your clit.
The second he starts to move his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, and you hear the whisper of “good girl, sweetheart.” you loose it, finally falling over the edge and crashing into your orgasm.
All you can see is shapes running across your vision in little stars as you close them as hard as possible, mouth open but the only word leaving your lips is his name, hands gripped into his dark hair as you can feel a little smirk on his lips.
Eyes screwed shut, he holds your hips down with his other hand, letting you almost fuck his fingers of your own accord, riding out your orgasm.
“Hmm, can’t wait to be inside you,” He begins, lifting himself up and crawling up you, your hands moving to his arms and gripping the muscles. “It’s good you’re off tomorrow. Won’t need to walk.” He laughs to himself, and a breathy moan leaves your lips again, as you question how many words you have actually managed to utter to him since this started.
You can feel the slick dripping onto the sheets, but you couldn’t care less as Matt holds himself up on one hand, the other moving himself to your entrance and rubbing himself through your wet folds, covering himself and groaning at the feeling.
“Matt please, please.” You loll your head side to side, still blissed out.
“Words, sweetheart. What do you want?” He questions you, even though he knows exactly what you want from him, he’s getting off on hearing you say it, hearing you beg for him.
“Need you to fuck me, please, need it.” You moan, sounding almost pornographic in the way you’re begging for anything from him. “Well done, keep using those words for me.” He confirms, knowing how wet he’s making you just by speaking, that he’s building the coil in your stomach again just by using these words while he looks down at you, still coating his cock in your slick.
Slowly, Matt slides all the way home, buried so deep within you you can almost feel him in your chest.
“Always so tight.” He grunts in your ear, laying his forehead next to your head, kissing your neck and he gently begins to move, “gotta relax for me, sweetheart.” He’s almost begging, pushing as far as he can while your walls are so tight around him.
“Fuck, yes-“ You almost scream, nails running down his back as he hisses at the slight sting of your touch. “Fuck me so well.” You tell him, feeling the way he tenses, hearing the way he almost growls in your ear and starts to move his hips faster, hitting every single spot inside of you you didn’t even know existed.
Only Matt can fuck you like this.
You drift a hand down to your clit, fingers rubbing small circles as you can feel the coil beginning to tighten again, starting to see stars in your peripheral vision. “I’m so-“ Again lost for more words as Matt replies, “I know, i know, come on my cock. come all over me.” He grunts, lifting himself up slightly and taking your hips with him, hitting a different angle and going even deeper if that was possible.
Matt is close too, you can tell by the way his hips are starting to stutter softly, but he wants to push you further again, make you cum as many times as he can.
The feeling takes over again as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, moaning louder than you’ve ever heard him before, muttering and swearing to himself about how tight you are around him, how deep he’s about to come inside you.
And he finally does, jittering his thrusts slightly as you feel him paint your walls, some of it dripping onto his already soaked sheets.
“fuck.” Is all Matt can say, while you fall silent as ever, he pulls out gently and lays down next to you, kissing your face gently and trying to bring you back to reality after the earth shattering orgasms he just gave you.
“I’ll clean you up. stay there.” He’s giggling slightly, getting himself up and finding his way to his bathroom, grabbing what you need.
You’ve never been so glad to miss drinks at Josie’s.
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cantgetworsethanthistbh · 11 days ago
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fluffy kid!stancest first kiss on glass shard beach would be so cute maybe by the swings or when they first find what would become the stan o war
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combining these two together, but 2nd anon PLEASE know your ask got me writing old stancest at first that immediately turned hurt and comfort, so i'll be posting that when i actually finish it udndhdhdu this one is a bit of a rush job, BUT i hope you guys like it! this is my first time writing kid stancest, trying to run my head over how boys just banter and this is the best i could relay lmao. also if ford's internal dialogue isnt as flowery as it ought to be, it's mostly because i do still want it to sound like it's coming from a child, and i imagine Ford's internal dialogue wasn't fully realized until he's at least a littls older, you know?
anyway enough stalling: please enjoy!
~~~
Ford thinks he could stay like this forever.
Sitting on a crate, Stanford watches Stanley draw on the sand with the end of a big stick, planning all their great adventures when they finally get out of this place, the promise of their Big Day of Adventure made them giddy all day, bouncing on the heels of their feet all over the beach until the deck guys they "borrowed" a can of paint from earlier found them, chasing them off and forcing the two of them to take cover. They did, only belatedly realizing they had to come back for their ship since their dream did rely on them fixing up the boat to be in top condition for it to sail. Luckily they didn't take their ship, so the two of them were able to push it back into the alcove they found it, keeping it their own little secret.
Ford looks at it in awe again. In bold letters, "The Stan O' War" stares back at him. Their promise of the future. A future with his brother, forever
"And then— Poindexter are ya listening?!" Stan asks, tapping the stick lightly on Ford's head who swats it away with a laugh.
"Yeah, yeah! I am, I am!"
"Good, cuz you better hear this!" Stan resumes drawing on the sand. Ford looks down, tilting his head quizically.
"Why are we standing on top of the sun?"
"That's an octopus!" Stan points to the pile of squigly lines Ford thought had been the ocean. "See?"
"That's still kinda impossible."
"Aw, shuddap!" Stan scoffs playfully, then proceeds to draw fish tails with long noses and circle ends.  "Of course its possible! This is after I killed it, and we're doin' a victory cheer on top of it!" Stan pumps his fist in the air, and begins chanting, echoing loud across the alcove: "PINES! PINES! PINES! And after—"
"Wait, how did we kill it?"
"I beat it up, duh!"
"What did I do?"
Stan huffs. "You math, science and bored it to death, you big nerd," he says with an annoyed expression, which quickly gives away to snickers as he dodges the fistful of sand Ford throws in his direction, leaving a grainy cloud in its wake. Stan points back at his drawing, at the long nosed fish with lines protruding off the top. Until Ford blinks, and tilts his head again, realizing that the messy scribbles are probably meant to be... "Anyway, after we totally beat this giant octopus monster, all the mermaid babes will be all over us! They'd give us kisses, and hugs, and and–"
Covering his mouth with his hand, Ford snorts loudly. "Stanley... you want to kiss fish ladies?"
An offended look crosses Stan's face, and if it wasn't for the sunburn already staining his and Ford's skin an angry, blistering red, Ford could swear Stan was blushing, his cheeks puffing, brown eyes wide and fists clenching. Cute, Ford thinks, so quickly, he almost doesn't catch it.
But he does.
Just like how his shoulder catches Stan's fists, sending him to more fits of giggling as he goes down.
"Shaddup, shaddup, shut uuuuuuuup," Stan continues his playful assault, clearly trying to not to smile, but Ford's laughter catches him like the infectious bug that went around school three months ago, and his grin stretches wild as he pushes Ford to the ground, and planting himself on Ford's short legs. Ford's hand land on his shoulders, trying and obviously failing at pushing off his stronger brother with all his twelve fingered might, but maybe it's because Ford is laughing too much he's out of breath, chest shaking while he heaves his giggles. Maybe it's the weird but nice heaviness Stan is forcing on him, and Ford counts that as the fifth time this day Stan made him feel that: 'weird but nice.'
Yesterday was seven whole times.
"Get off me, jerk!"
"You're the jerk," Stan argues, catching Ford's hands and pinning them down to the sand, grinning at Ford who's completely caught under him. "You've been making fun of me the whole time!"
"No I wasn't! I think it's cool you wanna kiss fish ladies!"
"They're not fish ladies, Sixer! They're mermaids!" Stan argues, looking a lot like Ford when he exasperatedly explains that solving the daily crossword on the newspaper is not lame, just with the additional large gap between his teeth, bandage on his face, cute puffy cheeks, which almost sends Ford to another laughing fit. "Mermaids are cool! No, they're hot!"
"If you say so," Ford shrugs, feeling the soft grains of sand move against his back. "They'd smell like fish though, but I think you would like that."
"Pfff," Stan lets go and straightens up to blow a raspberry, tilting himself to flop onto the sand next to Ford, moving so his fingers brushed Ford's when at their hips. Sixth. "Like you're any different. I bet you have a lot of weird stuff you wanna kiss too. You're obsessed with your ano– anama—"
"Anamolies."
"Aliens. I bet you wanna kiss aliens."
"No I don't!"
"Yeah, you do!"
"I don't," Ford insists, but he's definitely thought about it. Not in a weird way, of course. He wonders about kissing a lot of things, like growing boys do, like the health developmental sections of science books say so! Girls. Boys sometimes.
Boys most of the time.
A boy, most of the time.
"If you say so," Stan repeats dismissively, stretching his arms over his head while Ford watches behind his glasses. Feeling the sand starting to get to that 'pointy, sticky and annoying' state when someone lays on it, he sits up, eyes landing on the Stan O' War again. Stan follows, quickly sitting up.
"What'cha thinking of?"
"Just wondering the capability of weight distribution on the boat."
"Uh...."
"I wonder if it's actually strong enough to hold us up to sail. We're gonna have to fix that up before we take it to the water, remember? Maybe it's not even built for two people."
The last part came out of his mouth without thinking, and Ford is alarmed with the quick moment of doubt. For a second, their dream seemed a little impossible.
Stan pushes himself up, and runs to the stationed boat.
"Stan? What are you—"
"Keep up, Sixer!" Stan exclaims, grabbing onto the ledge of the boat, and suddenly Ford is running after his brother. All caution thrown out of his system when Stan lifts himself over the edge and on top of the boat's deck effortlessly.
"Stan!"
"Look, Ford, it's fine!" Stan exclaims, arms spread wide and standing victoriously. Ford grabs hold of the ledge, and tries to lift his legs over, only to almost fall off with a "Whoa!"— until Stan's hand latches onto his.
"Hold on," Stan tugs until Ford's body lifts high enough for him to wrap his arms around Ford's shoulders. He grunts, pulling the rest of his twin's body with all his strength before falling onto the deck, Ford landing on top of his legs.
Somehow, they find themselves almost exactly as before, just in reverse, skin still grainy and sticky and hot-red, Ford's chest shaking again but this time it's from panting in the short burst of physical activity. His face close to Stan's, Ford feels a bubbling in his chest, a little tingle all over his skin. One he wants to blame on the summer heat still simmering outside the cave or maybe the sunburn all over his back and torso, but it's not that.
Seventh.
"You're kinda heavy for a stick, Sixer."
Ford punches his shoulder this time, smirking. "Shut up, jerk."
"Now you hate it," Stan comes back smugly, then glances down at the deck. "Hey, look! It can hold the both of us after all!"
Remembering his previous concerns, he looks down on the boat, then raps his knuckles onto the floorboards. It's actually pretty sturdy for how old Ford theorized it to be. That's pretty cool.
"Guess we can cross that out of the stuff we have to fix up," Ford concludes. He pushes his glasses over his nose, thinking deeply again. "Still have a lot of stuff to consider though. Plus, who knows how much bigger we'll get too..." He muses, mostly to himself.
So many to consider... Ford doesn't think even his freakish hands could count all the ways it could go right, or wrong, if it goes anywhere at all... it's kind of big, and open, and Ford thinks it's almost like the ocean itself.
"Eh, don't worry about that stuff so much, Sixer," Stan shrugs, his voice breakjng through Ford's train of thought. Ford realizes he's still very much on Stanley's legs, and maybe it's because all the running, pushing, wrestling they've done all day that completely wrung him out, or maybe it's because the warm bubbling in his chest that overflows and keeps his own legs stuck like sap, but unlike Stan, Ford can't bring himself to move off, move away from Stan. His brown eyes wide, grin with a goofy gap in the teeth and cheeks puffing, Stan looks ready to sail off right then and there.
"As long as you've got me, we can do everything. We're getting out of this place no matter what."
Ford smiles warmly. Somehow he could never get tired doing that around his brother and that's weird. It's nice. His hands find Stan's shoulders, and without thinking, he blurts out:
"Stanley... It wasn't aliens."
"Wait, wha—"
And Ford presses his lips to Stan's. He doesn't really know how to do this. It's kinda gross, with Stan tasting like sand and sweat from rolling around it all day, but so did Ford and getting past that, it just feels good. Almost on instinct, he pulls away panic rising at throat, because Oh no, Stan will think I'm a freak too.
But Stan leans forward too, almost knocking Ford's glasses away and also not knowing what he's doing, but it feels nice. Really, really nice.
Eighth.
Ford thinks he could stay counting those forever.
~~
If you like this send another prompt or a prompt of your own! Hope you liked this anons, be it sufficiently fluffy enough lmao
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eringurumi · 4 months ago
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Ancient Hearthian (Outer Wilds) Pattern
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I got so many requests for the ancient Hearthian from Outer Wilds, and they really are so much simpler than the Nomai - but also, my notes and pics are a bit less detailed, and I've been so bad at even getting on my computer lately - so lemme try and cobble this together so anyone interested at least has something to work with!
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Technical stuff: 3mm crochet hook, 9mm safety eyes, Red Heart Super Saver yarn in Jade, probably... but any nice shade would do!
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Body:
They start as one long piece that kinda looks like a tadpole! A lot of the shaping is just by gentle smooshing it, but there are a few rows where you increase or decrease unevenly to contribute to it... I'm not even sure how much it really makes a difference tho!
6 sc in a magic circle
inc 6x to make 12 stitches
(3 inc, 3 sc) 2x to make 18 stiches (and a slightly elongated oval rather than circular cross section when looking face on)
(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches
9 rows of 24
Add eyes and begin to stuff
Across the "top" of the body (wherever you choose that to be) do (1 sc, 1 dec) 3x, then 15 more sc to make a row of 21 stitches
Again across the "top" of the body do (1 sc, 1 dec) 3x, then 12 more sc to make a row of 18 stitches
From here, it's slow decreases (still at the top) and stuffing as you go:
(1 sc, 1 dec) 2x then sc around to make a row of 16
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 15
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 14
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 13
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 12
2 dec then sc around to make a row of 10
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 9
1 row of 9
1 dec then sc around to make a row of 8
3 rows of 8
2 dec then around to make a row of 6, fasten off and hide tail
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Feet and Legs:
It looks like I really winged it a bit here, so let me try and figure out approximately what I did - the main idea is I think I made a very small tube for the feet, then pulled the tails through to the center, chained into a random stitch, and and did a few chains up and down to give it a short leg, then used those tails as well to sew them on to the body... I'm afraid I can hardly tell what I did for those legs, even looking at it in person, like it might just be a few knots... I am hoping that for here it isn't too much trouble for you to improvise something that works well for you!:
4 sc in a magic circle
3 rows of 4, then close off and pull the tails through the small cylinder, out the center
chain into a random stitch, then into an adjacent stitch,
sc "around" these two for 2-3 rows, to make a short leg
use the rest of the tail to sew onto the body.
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Very messy, possibly blurry.... but hopefully this at least gives a bit more inspiration.
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Ok, again, I apologize, it's not my best pattern, but I hope it will give people a starting point! Don't hesitate to ask questions if you need them, although as I mentioned, I'm not on tumblr much now a days. Don't forget to check out my Nomai pattern here! And as always, give me a tag here or @ erin.gurumi on instagram if you make one! I love to see them!
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skyward-floored · 5 months ago
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This is an earlier version of my fic Murkier Waters, which I’d saved because I thought Legend’s perspective was interesting, even if it didn’t end up working for the end product. It ends at an odd moment and is kinda messy so pleeeeaaaase read the actual fic for much better writing (and an ending lol).
Anyway, voila. Fishy Legend from a different POV.
————————————————————
“I think we’re lost.”
Legend groaned at Hyrule’s words, watching as the traveler looked around at the trees above them. He stepped into a particularly moist section of dirt while he wasn’t looking, which splashed mud on his boots, and he failed to hold back a sigh.
“I told you we should’ve turned left at that last pond,” Legend grumbled, and Hyrule shrugged with an apologetic smile, a bird cawing loudly in the distance.
Hyrule had sensed a great fairy somewhere in the vicinity, and Legend had tagged along with him, half out of curiosity, and half to make sure his successor didn’t get completely lost. He’d rather failed on that second point though, and they were now miles away from the others in a swamp unfamiliar to them both, getting more lost by the second.
He hated not having a map.
“You don’t think this is the swamp that the Smithy said still had some poison spots in it, do you?” Hyrule asked as he stepped over a puddle, and Legend hummed, looking around.
“How many swamps can there possibly be around here? I haven’t seen anything poisonous-looking though, so maybe Four was wrong,” he replied.
Hyrule nodded, waving a bug away from his face. “Yeah... maybe whatever was left here finally got cleansed or something.”
“Maybe.”
They continued forwards through the muck, swatting away bugs and avoiding one or two birds that swooped past. They had to fight off a couple of keese at one point, but that was the only thing that actively antagonized them, and their walk was fairly uneventful.
Legend wasn’t sure how long they’d been going when the forest opened up, a small lake coming into view through the trees, tall banks on all sides except the one they were standing on. The opposite shore was easily visible, but the water itself shone with an unnatural shimmer, the depths murky and dark.
“Guess we found our poison water,” Hyrule said with a frown, looking across the oily-colored liquid. Legend grabbed a stick and poked it into the water for a minute before pulling it out and inspecting it, but the wood hadn’t corroded at all, and appeared unharmed apart from the slick now coating it.
“Well it doesn’t seem like acid at least,” Legend hummed, giving the water a suspicious look. “I still don’t think we should cross it though.”
Hyrule didn’t appear to have heard him, suddenly perking up as he stared across the shore. His eyes shimmered a little, and Legend raised an eyebrow, leaning over and looking at him.
“Traveler?”
“I think the fairy fountain is over there,” Hyrule replied excitedly, squinting across the lake. “I can feel the magic way more clearly now!”
“Oh. Well that’s great,” Legend drawled. “Except for the fact that there’s a poisonous lake in between it and us, and even if it wasn’t poisonous, you can’t swim.”
Hyrule waved him off, rifling in his bag a moment before pulling out a pair of boots.
“Doesn’t matter, I can walk across water with these, poison or not,” he said with a smile, already slipping off his other pair and putting on the new ones. “It’ll be easy!”
“Well how am I going to get across?” Legend said grumpily, admiring Hyrule’s boots. He could tell they were magic just looking at them, despite their unassuming appearance. Well-made too, magic interwoven as the shoes had been put together, allowing the wearer to walk across water.
...He wanted a pair.
Hyrule looked at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t have any items that’ll help you get across?”
Legend kicked at the mud, mentally going through the list he had of all of his items. Of course he did. He had at least six different ones. Did Hyrule have no faith in him?
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well then come on! Let’s go!” Hyrule said with a smile, and without further ado began walking across the water, faint ripples emanating out from where his feet stepped on the surface.
“I need a pair of boots like that,” Legend grumbled jealously, then pulled out his ice rod to freeze a path he could walk across.
If he was alone, he’d just allow his mermaid transformation to take over and swim across, but he didn’t trust the murky water underneath him one bit. Hyrule didn’t know about his curse yet anyway, and he’d prefer to keep the number of people aware of it as small as possible. Though Hyrule would probably take it in stride, knowing him.
Either way, Legend wanted his feet on something solid, and the ice rod was perfect for that.
He was just glad he’d packed his snowshoe ring.
Hyrule was a small distance ahead of him by the time Legend was ready, and he smirked to himself as he watched the traveler, an idea forming in his head. Legend cracked his knuckles, then suddenly bolted forwards, freezing a path as he ran and quickly catching up to the other boy.
“See you on the other side!” he called behind him, and he heard Hyrule let out an indignant noise, the sound of his boots slapping against the water alerting him to the fact that the traveler was trying to catch up. Legend smirked, and flicked his wrist, slightly curving the ice and making it easier for him to gain speed as he charged across it.
Hyrule was fast though, and soon caught up, then passed him, hair flying in the wind as they raced towards the opposite shore. He didn’t waste his breath on words, merely shooting Legend a cheeky grin as he shot past, and Legend adjusted his cap with a competitive scowl.
He wished he could safely use his Pegasus boots on the ice as he watched Hyrule pull even further ahead, but he’d quickly slip out of control, even with his snowshoe ring.
But Legend was still fast without his boots and managed to put on a burst of speed, quickly pulling up next to the traveler.
Hyrule let out a breathless laugh, and Legend grinned back as they ran, sunlight sparkling off ice and water alike. He and the traveler were neck-and-neck as they raced, and Legend felt his annoyance at the day so far fade with every step he took, keeping pace with Hyrule as they raced across a likely-poisonous lake together.
It’d been too long since he’d goofed off like this.
The shore drew nearer and nearer, Hyrule and Legend both sprinting as fast they could, and Legend was sure that Hyrule was just barely going to beat him —
— Until a scaly green hand shot out of the water, grabbing Hyrule by the ankle and pulling him into the lake.
Legend’s happiness evaporated as Hyrule cried out in surprise, his yell cut off as he was dragged under. Legend jumped forwards and reached out for him mere seconds too late, catching sight of the fear in Hyrule’s eyes before he was lost to his sight in the murk.
“Traveler!” Legend shouted, voice cracking with panic, “Link!”
The water didn’t so much as ripple.
Legend stared for a only a couple more seconds, mind whirling, then he shoved his ice rod into his pack as he bit back a curse.
Hyrule couldn’t swim. Hyrule couldn’t swim and even if he could, some kind of monster had dragged him deep into likely-poisonous water, nullifying the power of his boots and very likely currently trying to eat him.
And Legend could easily save him with the magic in his bones.
Legend hesitated at the thought, looking at the oddly-colored water. He didn’t know what it would do to him if he transformed in its depths, what effects it might have on him if he swam around and breathed it in.
But Hyrule was down there.
Legend looked at the murky water one last time as he drew his sword, then took a deep breath and dove in without further hesitation.
The water slipped around him like a slick of oil, the familiar magic of his tail twisting around his legs as soon as he was submerged. Legend took the few moments while it did its job to look around, squinting as he searched for Hyrule, but saw no sign of him.
Legend’s legs finished painfully merging into a powerful cerulean tail, courtesy of the item he’d picked up all those years ago that had become as much apart of him as his regular magic. He shook out his fins, and finally saw something thrashing nearby. Swimming rapidly towards it, Legend spotted Hyrule struggling with a scaled creature of some kind, his face panicked as he held his breath.
Legend growled and prepared to strike at the monster, but then he took a deep breath.
And it burned.
The water was like fire the moment it filtered through his gills, sending flames searing all throughout his chest.
Legend gasped, but that only made it worse, more of the oily water pulled into his system, the taste of it sickening. He barely felt like he’d taken a breath, and each consecutive one felt worse then the last, stinging needles of ice spreading through his veins as he struggled to breathe.
Ah. Right. Poison water.
Which he was now breathing in, in no small volume.
He coughed, starting to feel sick, but then he heard a hiss and Legend was reminded he wasn’t the only thing in the lake. He managed to swing his sword at the monster despite the ache spreading through his muscles, and it screeched, slipping away with Hyrule still in its grasp.
Legend chased after it, ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest and the burning of his lungs, squinting through the murk.
He could barely see anything, surprising since his transformation usually granted him much clearer underwater vision. But despite the gloom and barely-there streams of sunlight filtering through the water, Legend finally caught sight of two glowing eyes, and he couldn’t help but return the hiss the creature sent towards him.
It was hard to fully make out, but he could just barely see green scales and red fins, glowing eyes and grasping claws that were still clinging to Hyrule, the traveler struggling weakly in their clutches as he tried desperately to escape.
A Zora. The corrupted version that lived in his and Hyrule’s lands.
...Obviously a long way from home, considering they were in Four’s era.
Legend swung his sword as the Zora abruptly released Hyrule and charged at him, eyes blazing. A shrill screech gurgled outwards, and Legend pinned his webbed ears back at the noise.
Claws slashed at his face and Legend reeled backwards, but he was satisfied to see a cut on the Zora’s chest. Black blood billowed through the water from both this and his earlier strike, and Legend was careful to avoid it as it spread, the dark cloud as black as ink.
This water was bad enough on its own— infected monster blood was the last thing he needed.
As if to remind him what he was swimming in, a sickening feeling abruptly swept through Legend, and he breathed in a shallow gasp. The taste of the water was all in his mouth, he could feel it and smell it and taste it and it was awful and Legend had to fight back the urge to be sick.
He gritted his teeth as his vision wavered a bit, coughing and fighting past the heaviness sinking into his limbs. Every breath he took he felt worse, every bit of water that rushed through his gills making his head grow thicker and limbs like lead.
If he was doing so badly, he could only imagine the state Hyrule was in, and hoped the traveler had managed to hold his breath so far.
If he hadn’t...
Legend shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on that. He needed to finish this.
Now.
The Zora screeched, and Legend watched as it streaked towards him, green scales blending into the water. Legend twisted away from it as it lunged, swinging his sword around, but claws gouged into his side even as his weapon struck the monster.
His side screamed in pain as his muscles ached, his lungs were on fire, but Legend threw himself forwards anyway, plunging his sword right into the middle of the Zora.
The monster let out an earsplitting keening noise, thrashing to get away from Legend’s sword, but he held tight until its thrashing slowed, then stopped. The beast abruptly fell limp, beginning to sink before it exploded into purplish dust.
Legend didn’t stick around to watch, darting for where he could see Hyrule struggling to reach the surface.
Hyrule saw him approach and his eyes went wide, eyes darting over his tail and scales, webbed hands and gills. He tried to back away, but Legend held out a pleading hand towards him.
“It’s me,” Legend warbled, ignoring how it hurt to talk, and Hyrule stared at him another few moments, gaze softening as recognition lit up in his eyes.
Then he clutched at his throat, bubbles trailing up from his lips.
Legend didn’t hesitate any longer, noting the blood in the water wafting from Hyrule’s ankle. He slung the traveler’s arm over his shoulders, and Hyrule didn’t resist, clinging to his arm rather tightly, and he began to swim for the surface. The Zora had dragged them deep, nearly to the bottom, and it was quite a ways upwards to go.
Legend’s tail seemed unusually heavy as he swam, and he found himself slowing considerably, struggling to focus on his goal.
The sunlight above began to smear, a high-pitched whine ringing in his ears, and Legend desperately pumped his tail, fighting to get him and Hyrule out of the horrible water. But his tail had gone numb, and the ache of his muscles and the fire in his veins and throat and side and everywhere were too much.
He wasn’t going to make it.
Legend gritted his teeth, and put all his remaining energy into giving Hyrule one last desperate shove towards the surface, feeling a spark of hope as Hyrule’s head appeared to breach.
Then he felt himself begin to sink, too weak to keep himself going.
Legend looked through half-lidded eyes at the blood he knew was his, wafting around his tail and shimmering in the weak sunlight. Even the smallest of breaths hurt, lungs and gills aching with fire, and Legend‘s eyes slipped closed, despite how he resisted.
He didn’t want to die like this, or at all, really... but he was content that he’d at least saved Hyrule from a similar fate.
At least he won’t drown... Legend thought as pain and darkness overwhelmed him, and his world disappeared into shadow.
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mosaickiwi · 1 year ago
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Sick Nasty
Rendacted is (love) sick who cares if it's cute and weird get him to a doctor!!! Kinda drabble. GN reader.
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
~
You wanted to surprise your boyfriend early in the morning to get breakfast, but he didn't answer the door. He hadn’t responded to your text messages either. So you simply used the key he’d given you months ago to let yourself in. But instead of finding him awake and distracted by something else, a concerning sight greeted you in his bedroom.
[REDACTED] was splayed out face down on one side of his mattress, in an unusually deep sleep. His tank top had ridden up a little, exposing his lower back. One tattooed arm dangled off the edge of the bed, while the other was slung over a body pillow—decorated with a particular sweatshirt you hadn't seen in a while. That didn't actually concern you too much. What did, however, was the strange halo of plushies and more of your clothes stacked around his head. Several hoodies, another sweatshirt, and some sweatpants that you'd left for whenever you were staying the night encircled his dark hair like a summoning ritual.
You looked down at him with mixed feelings, but silently pulled out your phone anyway. "At least I have evidence of your crimes now," you hummed while snapping a few photos. Once that was taken care of, you bent down and shook his shoulder. He felt surprisingly hot. 
He mumbled and rolled onto his side, disturbing his shrine. His blue eyes were clouded as he roughly pushed his messy bangs back. He sucked in a breath before giving you a tired smile. "Oh, Angel? G'morning," he yawned. As he sat up and stretched, he looked down at the clothes and stuffed animals strewn across his sheets. It took a moment for his eyes to widen a fraction, as if he wasn't quite sure he was awake yet. "Shit. I can explain."
You ignored him and grabbed both his cheeks, worriedly studying his face. He immediately drifted into careful silence at your touch, eyelids fluttering closed. His skin felt like it was on fire. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. And despite just waking up from what must've been a coma, he looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes far worse than usual.
A frown pulled at your lips. "You're sick."
"I was going to wash them," your tired boyfriend mumbled in a hazy voice, his head falling forward slightly. "The scent just helps me sleep—"
"I'm not talking about my clothes, you thief. You have a fever,” you emphasized and pulled away, standing back up. He whined in disapproval, leaning forward to follow your retreating hands. You held still so he’d calm down before continuing, “Do you have any medicine here? I’ll have to go to the pharmacy if not.” 
“I don’t think so. ‘Can go with you.” He weakly tugged you close and pressed his head against your stomach.
“No.”
You felt him groan into your shirt, “I’ll wait in the car.”
“You can wait in your bed.”
“Angel, please. Y'hurting me.” He squeezed a little tighter, but you knew it’d be much easier than normal to get out of his grip.
Even so, you relented with a fake sigh. Letting him have his way at the moment would hopefully make him more agreeable later. “I can just get it delivered. Scoot over,” you demanded and gently nudged him. He excitedly moved away to make room as you crawled onto the covers. You made a point of gathering all your clothes into a pile at one corner of the bed. They’d have to be dealt with later. “Since you’re sick, I won’t take these back just yet.”
[REDACTED] innocently smiled—without even a hint of shame—but didn’t say a word. Instead, he draped himself over your lap to relish in his victory. You sat back and scrolled through your phone to place the delivery order. It didn't take long.
“We’ve got 20 minutes. Can you try to be a bit more reasonable by then?” you asked and dropped your phone to the side. You busied yourself with his hair, threading through the dark strands as he closed his eyes.
He barely mumbled a ‘hmm’ in response, much too content with your fingers massaging his scalp. Unfortunately for his immune system (and your legs), he had no intentions of getting out of your lap.
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poppy-metal · 11 months ago
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okay but if mafia!jordan exists What is their breaking point where you feel dumb and demeaned but something Happens that threatens you/your safety and they lose their mind and oopsie maybe they actually care about you
heheheheh cracks my knuckles.
dk how many words this is but a little more than a drabble so under a cut.
also warning the word r*pe is mentioned ( not executed) - this is a mafia au so dark shit should be pretty obvious.
you probably get lost one night, like you manage to slip past your constant gaurds while you're out because you've never really been out - you just wanna explore a little. the threat of being recognized and hurt doesn't even register to you.
n jordan has kept a leash on you but its a pretty loose one, trying not to care about you - trying not to fall. thinking it means they're giving up a part of themselves if they do. that's why they're mean to you. but they let you go out - with gaurds - because they're not a fucking dictator. when they come back though, panicked and worried because you were there one moment and then gone the next jordan feels a sense of panic they've never felt before. and not because losing you would look bad on them, genuine fear chills their blood. worse case scenario running through their head - you've been kidnapped, you're tied up and drugged in the back of some guys car rn, you're already dead, you've been sold to sex trafficking ring, just the thought of you being touched makes them grip their gun and empty the clip in the gaurds heads - just for letting it happen.
they call you - again and again and again. (your phone is dead and you forgot to charge it.) jordan has their staff and their close friends and anyone else they can call out looking for you while they pace back and forth, hands gripping at their dark hair, yanking it out of style, making it erratic and messy. biting their nails, kicking their desk. blood pumping faster than it ever has before. they think about never seeing you again, or of seeing your corpse and they wanna be sick. they think of your sweet smile and how you find things every day to be chipper about even when jordan has been a dick to you. god, they want to put a bullet in their own skull. thinking of you being alone and frightened. they're supposed to protect you, goddammit.
cut to you strolling through the doors to jordans study three hours later - buzzing with contentment because you'd gone to the new mall that opened! "jordy!" you call, bumbling into the open door, not catching the serious atmosphere because you're looking down at the bags in your arms. "you know that new mall that opened i told you about the other day? i went! and i got you something-"
when jordan hears your sweet voice they stop dead in the middle of the room. just kinda staring at you in slack jawed amazement. alive and well and back at home, your home together, where you should be, with a flush to your cheeks from the cold weather and a smile on your lips. alive and not dead. not hurt.
you're cut off from speaking with an oompth as jordan strides across the room and crushes you to them, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head, the other around your waist. your face immediately fits against the crook of their neck and your body kinda melts on instinct. you drop the bags to the floor and return the embrace immediately, you dont know why its happening, but the soldid warmth of jordan all around you makes you liquid. when your arms tentatively wrap around their waist, you feel jordan shudder against you, their grip becoming almost painful.
"jordan?" you ask softly. you're not complaining but this is certainly out of character.
they pull back, and its like their eyes cant skan over you fast enough - in their mind they're checking for injuries. but you look okay.
"fuck." they say and it echoes through the room. more emotion packed into that one curse than they've ever showed toward you. they run a hand down their jaw, "fuck."
you blink, noticing the tension now. glancing around the room. it just registers now who the mansion was empty when you came home. usually someone would have been there to greet you, take your bags.
"where is everyone? why is it so quiet?"
jordans hand starts to shake and they have to shake it out, flex their fingers so they dont - they dont know. strangle you? grab you and kiss the fuck out of you?
"you went to the mall." they say it slowly and deliberately.
you nod enthusiasticlly.
jordan breathes out very slowly, chest expanding.
"you ditched your gaurds."
ah.
"they were hovering!" you pout, "I know they're supposed to, but i didn't want two hulking men following me into -" here you squirm a little, getting flustered. jordan is staring blankly at you. "following me into the uh, feminine stores. it was just for a few hours though! I'll apologize to them-"
"they're dead."
"what?"
"i shot them."
"jordan-" you gasp, stomach dropping. guilt filling your lungs. tears sting your eyes immediately. "but - i didn't mean -"
"do you know what happens to mafia wives when another family finds them alone." jordans looking at their hands now, rolling a ring around their finger. their birth stone. they dont wait for you to reply, "they get shot if they're lucky - but that's usually not the case. waste of good blackmail. usually its beatings - rape is most definite. cut off limbs to send to her husband or her father as a threat or a gloat. sometimes they keep them alive, sex traffikers aren't picky after all. most of the time though, the rest of what's left gets dumped in the ocean."
a hand comes up to cover your mouth, shaking. you knew it was a dangerous idea, but. you didn't think - you didn't feel under threat. and now people are dead because of you? your bottom lip trembles. you dont know what to say.
you think jordan might really kill you, with the way they're talking, so when they reach out and tip your chin up, you flinch a little.
you're shocked to find fire in jordans eyes. every other time jordan has been pissed at you - its been ice.
"you made me -" their jaw works. "you worried the hell out of me today. do you understand what i was thinking? what could have happened to you... shit."
their grip tightens to the point of pain and tears fill your eyes again, but not from that. from your own guilt.
"im sorry," you whisper. "i didn't mean to."
"that can't fucking happen again."
you nod, a bobble head. but their gaze hardens and you squeak when their hand slides from your jaw to wrap around your delicate throat. they back you up against the wall. their eyes still blazing, two dark coals glaring down at you with so much passion you feel your cunt pulse between your legs. you can't help it.
"no. not a fucking nod, mouse. that shits not happening a second time - or I'll fucking be the one to kill you. do you understand?"
you tremble. gasp when you feel their rings dig into your skin.
"words. use them."
"yes," you eek out, wondering whats wrong with you that you're getting wetter. "yes i understand, jordan. im sorry."
their eyes flick to the bags at their feet. "go upstairs." they let you go, but dont step back. "I'll deal with you later. i have about twenty fucking phone calls to make."
you squeeze by them, gulping when your hard nipples brush against their chest. running upstairs like theres a flame under your ass. little do you know, your ass WILL be flaming later, but for a different reason.
when you're gone jordan visibly slumps in relief. putting their head in their hands for a second to calm the fuck down, to quell the desire to go upstairs after you and beat your ass with a belt for worrying them so fucking much. they dont trust themselves right now to not break you.
oh. you'll be punished. but if today has taught them anything, its that they want you in one piece.
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junicult · 1 year ago
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i was looking through my masterlist and saw my new husband harvey post & inspo struck. hence, this.
contains ; fluff. sm fluff. new husband!harvey. fem!farmer. drabble. this might be kinda niche??😭😭 looking through harvey’s baby book <3
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the boxes, once piled all throughout your previously vacant living room, now limited after the many hours spent working through them. you chose to take a chunk of your day off for this, helping him with the unpacking as he would’ve for you.
although you were leaving one chore for another, there was something so refreshing in the way you sorted through his old stuff, casually making comments about each item before placing it where you deemed fit.
you eventually got to one of the heavier boxes, filled with medical books you didn’t bother to open. just placing them beside you for him to move later.
towards the bottom were books you ended up recognizing from your own childhood, gushing short comments about how the nostalgia made your heart warm, and how you couldn’t wait to pass them onto your own children (which definitely didn’t go ignored by your husband.)
you reached for one that was unrecognizable to you, wide with a wrinkled spine and a puffy, plain cover. “what’s this?” you mumble absentmindedly, cracking it open to peek at the front page.
“hm?” he hums across the room, distracted with his own box.
the distressed corners of the open page, small bubble letters in text that instantly gave you the clue you needed, along with the neat writing of “harvey” underneath.
you gasp at the realization, a little too exaggerated in the way your lips pull to a pout and a loud, “aww,” whines from your throat.
“what?” he jumps, a frantic pinch in his eyebrows as he turns to face you.
you quickly open to the next page, where immediately, you melt.
there’s multiple photographs, the first one of a baby with thin, brown hair that’s hardly a month old. he’s being held in someone’s arms, someone you immediately recognize as your husband’s mother.
“it’s your baby book!” you chirp, leaning in to look at the photo with the softest eyes and the subtlest lip quiver.
the next photo underneath continues to be another baby photo, seemed to be taken the same day as the last, where he’s being held by his father. the sentimental aspect makes your heart ache.
“oh, i haven’t seen that in years.” harvey chuckles, now standing over you.
“aww, you look so cute. look at your little hands,” you gush, scanning the contents of each photo like it was your job.
you whine again when you flip to the next page. the photograph is of harvey, around age two at this point with short, messy brown hair. he’s got a shy smile on his face, cheeks red and due to the pumpkins in the background and the clothes he’s wearing, it’s clear it’s around autumn.
“i think that was my first time at a pumpkin patch.” he contextualizes, to which you let out another enamored squeal.
you don’t even pay attention to him taking a seat next to you, so captivated with the little book in your hands.
you continue to scan each photo, even a few that carry a small caption underneath. several candids of him at home, some at what you can only infer is an airport—wide shots of him standing next to large planes with an eager grin, or even just him sleeping on the couch that his mom or dad took purely for the sake of how silly it was.
he sits beside you, only a little interested with the photos, but more focused on how you react with each one.
the way your eyes crinkle each time you sweetly sigh. you’ve propped your feet on the coffee table, resting the book on your bent knees while flipping through each page, making sure not to skip a single one.
and each time you find a particularly sentimental photo, you look at him for the backstory that lies behind it.
you flip to a picture where he’s grinning wide at the camera, around age seven or eight. there’s a large gap between his teeth, and the context is clear in the way he’s holding up the missing tooth with his thumb and forefinger for the camera to see.
this is the first picture where he’s wearing glasses, similar to the ones he still adorned even 25 years later.
“harvey,” you drawl, tone pitched an octave higher as you still carry the same whine. “this is so sweet, why haven’t you ever shown me this?”
“i would’ve if i knew i still had it,” he explains, looking from you to the book.
he can’t even remember when he last thought of it. maybe the last time he actually spent this much time sifting through it was when he was in college, so to be sitting here with the woman he married only days ago, well, it did something to him.
the soft whimpers you’d let out looking at an old photo of him posing with armfuls of his favorite miniature planes.
how you giggled when you stumbled on a photo he remembers being vividly embarrassed about, teasing him for such while his cheeks grow red and you eagerly beg for the backstory, in which he won’t tell you, so you end up saying, “fine, i’ll just have to call your mom and ask about it later.”
and it feels like his whole world is falling into place when you lean in to get a closer look, whispering a quiet, “god, i want one, i want a little you.”
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