#night before starting the week thots

[sufranstevens]

What if i leave everything behind and start working at a cementary

[becca-e-barnes]

I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.

[lipstickontheglass1985]

its so hard being a girl who was made for waking up at 9am every day in this world.....

[hon3y-y]

NUH UH roomate!sukuna had his thot era, it's time for reader to have hers!!! And he's gonna sit there and WATCH it- payback baby. I wanted reader to fuck satoru, suguru, kento, choso, even fucking hiromi- she gonna get it ALLLLLLL before sukuna can even get a taste 😤

cw: noncon filming!

pt 1: here<3 pt3: here<3 pt4: here<3

omfg he would be soooo pissed💀

picture this;

The morning after everything happened, Sukuna was more than ready to make it official with you. He had already planned how he was going to seduce you. He got up early to hit the gym before you even woke up, so when you were finally awake, you would see him all jacked up and sweaty. It literally had his stomach fluttering with excitement at just how fast he knew you'd fold. 

Well, easier said than done, because when he does get home and hear someone in the kitchen, it's not you cutely rubbing your sleepy eyes in nothing but a baggy shirt. Instead, it’s that white-haired freak from last night. 

He literally rolls his eyes, ignoring the greeting the guy sends and telling him to “get the fuck out” to which Satoru just laughs, takes his toast (which he made in Sukuna’s toaster, by the way), and exits the kitchen while taking a bite. Sukuna goes to your room door but is stopped by the obnoxious blond.

“She left, said she was going to see a friend.”

“Why are you still here?”

Satoru shrugs before grabbing the shirt he had thrown onto the couch the previous night and waving goodbye, crumbs from the toast he was eating still on his lips, before the door slams shut. 

Ryomen was floored. Were you two officials? Is that why you finally brought someone home? He couldn’t deny the pinch in his chest, but he shoved it aside. I mean, he would happily break up a home, so even if this was your stupid boyfriend, it wouldn’t dampen anything. He doesn’t mind a little competition. 

At least, that’s what he thinks it’s going to be. Since that night, both of your schedules had been too complicated, and you two had only seen each other in passing. But tonight, he knew you would both be off and it’s the weekend, so he knows you at least don’t have anything till midday. 

You return late, and you are absolutely not alone.

You’re with another guy, some blond man who looks a little too pristine to be found at the club (who he later finds out is kento from your whimpered of “kento! Oh fuck—yes! right there!”).

You don’t even notice that Sukuna's door is wide open and instead stumble straight into your own. and Ryomen is jaw-dropped, shocked. 

He begins to feel like a cuck; all he does is listen to you fuck this random selection of men you’ve created within these recent couple of weeks and fuck his fist stupid. It’s so embarrassing to feel like a hormonal teenager who can’t get a grip. but he can’t stop; he just remembers what you look like under Satoru. 

Night after night, all weekend long, you’re bringing home someone new. although after a while it’s just the same three guys. the annoying blond, Kento (or “the businessman”), and some random boy named "choso,” who he walked in on you giving a blow job to.

You stopped immediately, so embarrassed and shy, as if you didn’t just have this guy with his eyes rolled back, nearly crying every time you gagged on him. Choso, on the other hand, looked too fucked out to care about the third person in the room. 

Sukuna was so hard and horny all the time, and his interest in finding someone to handle it was useless. He wanted you, not some random girl. He even bought a fleshlight for the first time, needing something other than his hand to hump. 

One night, he returned late and heard the sweet noises of your mewls (again, it was starting to feel like a routine). He tried to quietly pass your door, but stopped short. three voices?

He almost couldn't believe it, but after cracking your door open, there you were. You were jerking Satoru off, his white hair sticking to his damp forehead, while this guy with long black hair was pounding into you. One of his hands wrapped around your throat while the other played with your clit, your body jerking at the intensity of stimulation. Satoru played with your swollen nipples, pinching and leaning down to suck them. 

Sukuna can’t help but pull his phone out and record it, going back to his room and rutting into his fleshlight until his cock is raw. the video on a constant loop because he was so fucking addicted. You looked so good. so pretty, and pliant under them. He wanted, no, needed to have you.

You lay in bed, absolutely exhausted after Suguru and Satoru left. You still can’t deny the effect Sukuna has on you, but since you’ve started having hookups, you haven’t even tried to listen to what Ryo does (not that you could’ve or noticed, clearly. he’s been on a dry spell). While you sleep peacefully, snuggled into your warm comforter, Sukuna lies awake, extremely frustrated.

he’s sooo down bad://

[mythicmanuscripts]

So I’m imagining Aemond’s wife has to leave him for a few days or even weeks. (perhaps to return to her family’s home somewhere else in Westeros for some reason) Perhaps she flies on dragonback or rides by horse/carriage. Either way she’s gone for some time and the longer she’s away the more on edge Aemond gets. Like he behaves his regular cold and withdrawn self but otherwise normally for a few days. But then slowly his already hard edges seem to grow sharper and sharper as the days without his wife creep by. His attacks in the training yard seem more brutal and vicious than normal. He stalks down the halls in an almost predatory walk as nobles scramble to stay out of his way and not meet his eye. He snaps at his servants more and more. And then suddenly the weeks are over and his wife is home and those hard edges are sanded down once again. He practically melts into her arms the moment they’re behind closed doors. Face buried in her neck or chest. The next day his training is much more subdued. He does not snap at people or move so hostilely about the Keep. Most people put two and two together. Now every time Aemond’s wife leaves him for more than a few days the whole of Kings Landing holds its breath until she returns.

(Bonus points: a few days before her return, Helaena states completely out of the blue to Aemond that she’ll be home before the week is out and he need not worry about her. Aemond starts. How could she know that? Was his wife writing to her and sending her a raven with that information but not him?? He knows they’re close friends but he’s her husband!? So he asks Helaena if she’s had a raven. Helaena just stops her needlework and looks at him confused: “No.” And then resumes her needlework without explanation. He decides to think nothing of it. Until two days later his wife is walking back up the steps of the Red Keep and his heart is doing somersaults in his chest he’s just so thrilled to see her.)

**nsfw thots**

On an unrelated note to all that: imagine them the night before she leaves. Riding him gently, holding him close, pulling orgasm after orgasm from him til he’s over sensitive and completely spent. Making sure to give him as much attention as possible before she leaves. As he lays there in a daze she gently showers him with kisses. Kissing up and down his neck and jaw she whispers in his ear “Aemond, my darling? I want you to think of this night while I’m gone. I want you to think about the night we shall have when I return. I want you to touch yourself and think of me. But you’re not allowed to cum. Not without me.” Another gentle kiss to his temple over his sapphire eye. “Can you be a good boy and do that for me, my love?” He shifts slightly and moans a quiet yes in response. Of course he can do that. He’s a good boy. With more willpower and obedience than anyone. And he will be rewarded handsomely for it when she returns.

I.... Anon you are truly a visionary. I am in shock and awe these thoughts are INCREDIBLE. I love everything about this oh my god.

So instead of splitting up my answer like you did here, I'm gonna answer this as one long ask about before you leave for a few days, how he is while you're gone and then what happens when you return so the entire thing will be NSFW sub!aemond with varying degrees of explicit content. So yeah! Venture under the cut if you dare :))

When you first married Aemond, not much changed because he hardly knew you. But, very very quickly he started to get attached. He realises that you care for him, that you enjoy talking to him and that you mean it when you praise him. For a long time your relationship is almost... professional? Once a week he'll attempt for an heir with you laying flat on your back and then leave immediately and besides that, you'd only see him at dinners and events.

When you started to show Aemond affection and began to ask him questions and love him, he really just melts into you? He becomes so needy so quickly, like a switch is flipped and once he's allowed a little of his self restraint to falter, he's incapable of controlling himself around you anymore.

People are shocked at the change in Aemond. He's much mellower, much less likely to lash out and he hears people out much more. They also learn that they can go to you with any issues, and you will relay them to Aemond. This process always works much better because he's always much better when speaking to you.

(Side note: you know how kings used to have a servant whose only job was to read their letters aloud for them? When Aemond becomes king he immediately gets rid of that servant and has you read the letter aloud instead. It's much, much better to hear your voice and be able to discuss the content of the letters with you)

Maybe this is the first time you've gone away without Aemond? By this point he is attached to your side, and the entire castle is thankful for it. You both spend every night in your shared quarters, and he allows himself to be open in how much he loves you and how much he needs from you.

So when you tell him you need to leave for a few days, at first he doesn't even consider the possibility that you mean without him? His response to hearing this is to nod and say, "Where are we going? And for how long?" Maybe his lips even twitch upwards a little in a very small smile because he thinks the two of you will be travelling alone together. Even if you're going somewhere terribly political and boring, the journey itself is enough to get him in a good mood. Just you, him and Vhagar would be perfect (and your own dragon if you had one, but Vhagar loves you and is more than happy to carry both you and Aemond, in fact sometimes she won't fly with just Aemond because she can tell he's angry and might do something rash, so she'll refuse to take off until you join them so that you can stop Aemond from doing something stupid).

(Side note: Aemond buys a small house somewhere far away and only reachable by dragon and that becomes your little sanctuary, whenever he’s about to lose it he goes up there with you and Vhagar and Vhagar actually won’t fly him back to the keep until he’s doing better)

When you clarify that you need to go yourself, his smile falls? He understands why he can’t go with, but that doesn’t matter. He just… you’re going to be gone for over a week?? What’s he supposed to do??

I think he’d be insistent on you taking Vhagar if you don’t have your own dragon. Not only because she’s quicker than any horse but also because he knows she’d melt down entire kingdoms if someone dared to lay a hand on you and knowing you have that kind of protection is the only way they’ll be any chance of him getting any sleep while you’re away.

You don’t even bother trying to argue against this, because you know he’ll just follow you on Vhagar if you don’t take her yourself.

The night before you’re set to leave, you tell him to get dinner delivered to your chambers and to tell everyone that the two of you are not be disturbed. He knows what this means, he’s so thankful.

You ride him first, until he’s so desperate to cum that he can’t stop bucking his hips. And then you get off him and make him eat you out before he’s allowed to fuck you again. His thighs are shaking when you eventually lower yourself down on him again and he cums almost instantly.

That’s when the overstimulation starts. Your goal is to take him apart completely until he’s a mess, until he’s twitching and whining and mumbling in high Valeryon. It honestly doesn’t even take that long to do.

When you give him the rules, he can only nod and turn to cuddle into your neck. He’s so plaint and completely wrecked, not a single wall left between you. He’s so sweet then, nodding and trying to kiss your neck because he’s just floating on cloud nine.

You slip out of bed the next morning before he wakes up, because you know that will be the easiest for him. If he has to actually watch you leave, he will almost immediately become hostile and unhappy until you return. This way there’s a chance that he might not immediately start terrorising the servants.

When Aemond wakes and you’re not there, he understands why you chose to do that and deep down he knows it’s the best choice, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut anyway. This is the first time in your entire marriage that he’s fallen asleep with you and woken up alone. You’ve always ensured to stay in bed until he wakes up and he does the same, so to roll over and find nothing but cold sheets actually makes him let out a sob out loud.

He pulls your pillow closer, hugging it tightly and curling himself around it. He knows he’s acting ridiculous and he does not care about it, not at all because his wife isn’t in his bed and he’s all alone.

He’s alright for the first three days, still very withdrawn but he wasn’t too bad. From the fourth day onwards he just got worse and worse. He was not used to going this long without you, without your attention and touches and voice. He’s so used to popping into places he knows you’ll be just to see you, bringing you food or wine or even just to ask your advice for something. Sometimes he’ll even come find you to invite you do dinner despite the fact that you eat dinner together every day.

So yeah he’s not doing very well. I also think he becomes even worse about touches? A servant accidentally brushes against him as they walk past carrying laundry and he flings himself against the opposite wall feeling like his skin is on fire where they touched.

Sparring with him is dangerous while you’re away, and if he loses he will just drop his sword and walk away. He would normally go to you and you’d kiss him gently and listen to him and give him advice. But now he just walks right out.

He also doesn’t make any big decisions? Irrelevant of whether he’s king, prince or prince regent, he always goes to you for advice and to hear your thoughts. You’re an extremely important part of his council and he won’t pledge to anything without discussing it first.

So the whole castle walks on eggshells for the next week or so until you eventually come back.

The moment one of the dragon keepers spots Vhagar, they immediately run to the keep and tell Aemond because they know how badly everyone needs you to be back with Aemond. The dragon keeper doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Aemond is out the door and running for the dragon pits.

He’s there when you get off Vhagar.

The dragon keepers and servants know better than to try and get close to you before him. Normally, you hand the dragon riders your gear and the servants help take off the gloves and boots but no one moves this time because they all know that Aemond will kill them if they get in the way.

The moment you get odd Vhagar, Aemond is walking forward and before you can even say a thing he’s pulling you into a bone crushing hug. He clings to you as tight as he can, nuzzling his nose against your clavicle. You try pull away a little to give him a kiss and he refuses, his grip on you only tightens.

When he eventually pulls away, you take his hand in your hands and give him a soft kiss. He responds immediately and then hugs you tight again.

“You’re ever going for that long again,” he mumbles against your shoulder, “ever.”

You just rub his back and let him hold you for a moment because you know that there’s no point in trying to tell him you had to go. He’s too upset right now, and he just needs to be reassured to that you’re back.

Maybe you’re supposed to speak to the small council about something or give them a debrief of your trip but you end up only doing that the next day because Aemond refuses to share you with anyone. If anyone else tries to take your attention he may genuinely commit murder because it’s been far too long and he’s your husband, not them. He’s the one who gets your undivided attention.

He walks with you back to your shared quarters. On the way there, run into some of the ladies currently being hosted at the court and of course they all want to greet you and ask about your trip. Aemond is having absolutely none of it. He literally just says, "not now" and drags you away from them.

Normally if Aemond did something like that you would refuse to go with him and punish him later, but you know that this is different because of how long he's had to go without you and so you'll make some exceptions. Of course Aemond knows this, that's why he even did it in the first place. If he thought there was even the smallest chance of you being unhappy with him, he never would have done it.

Once you're alone in your chambers, he pulls you back into a hug, and pretty quickly you can feel his shoulders shaking.

"It's alright," you whisper to him, keeping your voice soft and gentle, "I'm back, it's just us here, it's alright." He nods, but he keeps himself firmly against your shoulder, crying softly.

When he stops crying, you tell him to boil some water and get a bath ready. Ordinarily you would call a servant in to do that, but you can see how unsettled Aemond is, how overwhelmed he is. He's clearly happy you're back, but he's also kind of unsure what to do with himself and clearly is just feeling a little too many things. So you give him a task to do, because that always settles him and he relaxes knowing that he's pleasing you.

You watch as he readies the water and then pours it into the bath with some cold water to make the perfect temperature.

Since you flew back on dragon back, you're in need of a bath before bed and so you tell Aemond to join you and let him wash you. It's one of Aemond's favourite tasks, one that he can't believe he is privileged enough to get to do.

He takes his time washing you, being so so gentle and ensuring he does is properly. Multiple times he pauses and looks to you, waiting for your approval before he continues. You can see him start to relax as he does it, can see the tension start to leave his shoulders.

You'd love to wash him in return, but you know it's not the best idea right then. Aemond is relaxed and at ease because he's served you and he knows he's being good. You know that if you turn the attention back on him and wash him, you run the risk of him getting overwhelmed and shy. So instead you just tell him to wash himself once he's done with you and you make sure to watch him as he does so. He absolutely loves having your eyes on him.

You let him dry you afterwards as well, and when you see his eyes trailing your body, you tell him that he can kiss you too. Immediately he does, kissing your skin after he swipes the towel over it.

He's turned by this point, of course, but he doesn't even think about touching himself. He knows the rules, and he knows you will look after him.

Originally you were going to ride him and edge him a few times, but when you see how vulnerable he is, you change your mind. He's missed you so much, and you can see how he's keeping his hands on you for as long as possible each time he kisses you, like he's afraid you're going to disappear. You don't need to wreck him, he's already wrecked.

Instead, you let him sit between your legs, his back to your front and give him a nice, soft handjob. He's shaking and whining in your arms, nuzzling against your neck and mumbling in high valeryon. He's so beautiful when he cums, crying out as his back arches away from you. He collapses once it's over, curling up between your legs and bringing your hand to his mouth to lick it clean.

You let him shuffle down the bed then and eat you out to his heart's content. He's so so happy, groaning against you because he's having as much fun as you are.

Even once you've came, he stays there and just rests his head against your thigh. He falls asleep like that soon after.

[kaliforniahigh]

Oooh you got any Jolly Thots?

But it would've been fun. If you would've been the one - jolly karlsson.

Oh, yeah. I got them!! If anyone wants to send in their Jolly thots, my ask is open!

Warning: this is very angsty and there is no happy ending :( Also smut (p in v). Jolly is kind of a jackass in this, sorry.

WC: 1.4k

Jolly had you on your kness, back pressed against his chest as he pounded into you from behind. You could feel his breath on your neck, and the feeling of his hand pulling on your ponytail.

It was always like this. He'd call you, tell you he's feeling lonely and longing for you. You'd tell him to come over, only to have your heart broken over and over again.

When he had you like this, though, it was like the feeling of rejection didn't exist for a while.

"You love this, don't you? Me inside of you", he murmured in your ear, you only moaned in response. There was a time when you entertained his praises, but not anymore. Instead, you wished he'd just fuck and stay quiet.

He lets your hair go and you fall on your hands on the bed. His pace picks up and you can tell he's close by the way he's gripping your hips. He starts rubbing circles on your clit, and you're right there with him.

You hate the it feels so good, you hate the way he always seems to know what to do get make you fall apart for him. The way he hits all the right spots.

You wish he was as good with feelings as he is fucking you.

Seconds later, he's spilling inside the condom, with a grunt. And your shaking underneath him, knees giving out as lay sprawled on your bed.

You both take a few seconds to recover, and the part you dread the most is about to happen. Again.

You can hear him going into the bathroom, to discard the condom and wash his hands, you guess. You stay on the bed, now laying on your back and pulling the covers up to your chest.

There was also a time when you felt comfortable with him seeing you naked on the back after you finished. Now, you just felt kind of cheap. With how detached you've both become, the only thing missing was him slapping a couple of tens on your bedside table before leaving.

"Folio is having a party on Saturday. He says he wants to celebrate his new collaboration with TAMA", he tells you as he pulls his boxers on.

"Yeah, he told me", you responded with a detached tone to your voice. Watching him redress.

"You going?", he asked you.

"I'll see"

He only hummed in response. Grabbing his wallet and looking back at you.

"I'll see you on Saturday then. If you go", he opened the door of your bedroom.

"Yeah"

On Saturday, you found yourself knocking on the door to the boys' house. You pondered a lot over the week if you even wanted to go. But decided that your little situationship with Jolly shouldn't drift you apart from your other friends.

Besides, you were determined to ignore him tonight.

You guessed he wasn't there yet when you arrived, because you surveyed the place, but didn't find him. Good, you hope he wouldn't come, you wished to yourself, but knew that wouldn't be true, because he wouldn't miss celebrating his friend.

You were actually enjoying yourself and talking to people around you. You had a drink in your hand, but wanted to stay mostly sober for the night. Before, there was no problem with you getting drunk and spending the night at Jolly's room. Now, it just felt like you were overstaying your welcome.

Maybe an hour after you arrived, you could see two people entering the living room, when you looked in their direction, it was as if the whole world stopped spinning and the room became completely still.

There he was, dressed in all black, with a beautiful girl hanging on his arm.

You obviously knew he was fucking around with other girls, but he never actually brought them over to their house. Also, the fact that a few days ago, he was in your bed, fucking you, and now he was here, with a new girl, made your stomach twist.

Before he had the chance to come any closer to where you were standing, you turned around and made your way upstairs to the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you as you tried to calm your heartbeat that was pounding in your chest. You desperatly tried to think of an excuse to leave this party right now. You shouldn't have come in the first place.

After a couple of minutes, you decided to leave and then shoot Folio a text apologizing. You already had the chance to congratulate him, so that wouldn't look too bad.

Slipping out from the bathroom, you made your way through the living room with your head down, not wanting anyone to see you. Opening the front door, your stepped into the slight breeze blowing outside.

Taking a deep breath, you started to walk down the street to where your car was parked.

"Y/N", you heard a familiar voice behind you, but you didn't turn around, you didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey, where are you going?", he tried again, picking up his pace this time and walking beside you.

"I'm going home", you said, voice flat and devoid of any emotion. You tried to keep yourself in check, because you were sure if you stayed here any longer, you'd start crying like an idiot.

"Why? The party has just started".

Could he really not understand why you were leaving? Was he this dense? Instead of feeling sad, you were now feeling angry at his obliviousness.

"Are you fucking serious? Are you actually this stupid or do you just like to pretend that you are, so you don't have to own up to your mistakes?", the anger in your voice and fire in your eyes made him take a step back.

"Are you talking about?", he was wary now, but his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"Do you actually consider me your friend or do you just keep me around because I'm an easy fuck?", you were becoming tired of him dodging your questions.

"You're not an easy fuck. Please don't say it like that", he tried to take a step closer to you, but you took a step back, and he stayed in his place.

"Oh no? But you text me everytime already knowing I'll tell you to come over. You take advantage of the fact that you know I'm emotionally attached to you", you crossed your arms over your chest to try and protect your heart that was already broken in a million pieces.

"It was never supposed to be like this", he told you, and you desperately wanted him to stop making excuses.

"But it is. Next thing I know, you're going to be paying me for my services from how much a cheap transaction this has become"

Jolly just stood there, his eyes were wide and you could tell they were a little glossy from the way the light from the streetlamp hit his face.

"I'm so fucking sorry, You gotta believe me when I say I never meant to make you feel this way", his voice trembled a bit towards the end of his sentence. You could see a little glimpse of the old Jolly you met years ago.

"I'm not sure I believe anything that comes out of your mouth anymore", you stood your ground this time.

"I'm so fucking sorry", he looked down as he apologized to you. He couldn't even do it looking at your fucking face.

"Me too", you said as you fished your car keys from your pocket. "I'm going to delete your number, and I never want to speak to you ever again", now it was time for your voice to tremble. You were not only endind whatever you two had, but you were ending a friendship of years that developed into something neither of you could control or deal with. "Tell the boys I'll stop coming around"

With this last sentence, you turned around and walked the rest of the way to your car, now letting the tears fall freely from your eyes.

You unlocked your car and gor in the driver's seat. You told youself you wound't look back, but you couldn't helo but take a peek on the rear view mirror.

You Jolly sitting on the curb, you could tell his shoulders were shaking, and that his hands were covering his face.

Too bad, he should've shown some emotion all those times you desperately needed him to. With a shaky, deep sigh, you turned on your car and drove away from the most important people in your life.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑰'𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑨𝑴𝑬

**gif by the amazing @pedrorascal

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

genre: smut, hurt/comfort (but mostly filth let's be honest)

word count: 2.1k

summary: Not being able to sleep, you sneak in next to Joel on the bed. You're stirred awake with a still-sleeping Joel grinding his hips into you.

warnings: brief nightmare mention, accidental somnophilia, dry humping, very messy blowjob, mouth-fucking, gray sweatpants

After reading this post and the endless horny thots of @the-ginger-hedge-witch & @write-and-buried and screaming about pillows and gray sweatpants to @inklore I felt like I had little choice left and wrote this. I'm so weak for this man and I'm not even sorry

You stir awake with your top sticking to your skin and heart fluttering wildly in your chest. 

At first, you think you’re dying; your breathing uneven, and chest throbbing painfully. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, and when they finally do, you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of the ceiling, bruised with humidity. Your back aches in protest as you twist and turn on the couch. Every night the same nightmares, every night you survive and every morning you’re trying to breathe through the pain. 

Your fingers twitch with the need to touch something, or someone. Your sleeping schedule has been absolute garbage the past week and it started to show during the day, Joel’s comments about how distracted you were never-ending. One time he asked if it was because of the couch, and if that was the case you should take the bed instead but you know it isn’t an issue of comfort. 

Well, it is but not the type of comfort Joel was referring to. 

You find yourself slowly sitting upright, the heels of your palms pressed painfully into your eyes as your back slides down the backrest and your head is tilted up. You don’t know what to do. The silence is deafening, you can feel the chaos even in the late hours of pure darkness. 

Joel’s snores reach your ears. They sound soft, oddly at peace, and with a brief moment of weakness you think of waking him, talking to him but you end up shaking your head. He’s in pain too. He’s tired too. If he has a chance of being blissfully at peace—even if it’s only for a night— you owe that to him. 

And you agree with that notion completely as you get up and head towards his room. You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

You watch him, his form looking surprisingly child-like, a pillow under his head and the other end of it caught under his arms and between his legs. He’s laying stomach first, blanker kicked away, and a pair of gray sweatpants hugging him tight. His face is smushed against the pillow, lips parted and a small dark patch growing over the fabric. 

You never see him like this—never. 

Which might be the reason why you’re moving inside. You stand firm at the edge of the bed, watching the way his back raises and falls with every breath. 

Before everything went to shit you always found yourself drawn to the sky; to the shapes of clouds and the light of the moon—the way your heart aches right now makes you reminiscent of that specific feeling. 

You just can’t help but gawk at him, at his tortured beauty, at his briefly subsided pain. 

Suddenly, your eyelids feel heavy, sleep curling around your body and pulling you down to the empty space next to him. You lay on your back, staring blankly ahead. Anxiety churns heavily in your stomach. You’re not a fan of the thought of accidentally pissing off Joel with this. However, there’s still empty space between you, and for the first time in days, you actually feel that sleep comes naturally. 

Heaving out an extended sigh, you turn, curling into a small ball. Moments pass, your body relaxes and drifts above the wave of a somewhat peaceful slumber. Your mind is silent for the first time in months, ears focused on Joel’s breathing. 

You don’t know how much time passes after that. It could’ve been minutes. It could’ve been hours. But when you wake again, it’s because of two strong arms pulling you in, the raw earthy musk of Joel overwhelming your nostrils. His muscles tighten around you, his chest flush against your back as his warm breath fans your skin. 

“Joel?” you whisper— no answer, only the sound of breathing. 

You try not to focus on the fact that this is exactly what you wanted since the first time you laid eyes on him. His arms curled around you, a small shield of light battling the shadows that lurk about. You’re still as a rock, your breathing done in small, sharp inhales. The pillow he was hugging before is tangled between your feet, his pelvis nestled against your ass. 

You don’t dare to close your eyes now. You feel too warm, too awake. 

You hear him whimper. 

It’s the smallest of noises. A sharp muffled sound done into your skin. You hold your breath, and the sound repeats itself. Only louder this time. You note the small grind of his hips, the pulse of his length heavy under his loose sweatpants. 

You should wake him up. You really should, but you don’t. A pleasurable tingle buzzes throughout your body, heat building under your cheeks as your own breathing grows heavy. Joel presses closer, seeking you out like a dream. His mustache tickles your skin, lips touching your neck. He doesn’t know you’re there. He doesn’t know it’s not a dream but you he’s kissing in the dark. 

His fingers twitch right above your stomach, cock hard as he thrusts himself into your clothed flesh. Your hand claps over your mouth, nostrils flaring, you try to keep yourself silent. You’ll leave as soon as his grip around you loosens—even if it seems like it won’t be happening for a while. 

Joel moans into your neck, fingers spreading over your ribs. You slick pools between your legs with every brush of his hips, the seam of your underwear sticking to your mound. Heat stings the small of your back. It’s been too long since you last touched yourself, exhaustion and hunger not being the best lubricant for pleasuring yourself. 

The sounds he makes drop, his groans deeper, needier. He’s suddenly racking his hips in stinging strikes against your ass, giving you a very vivid idea of how he might fuck you in real life. Cock trapped underneath the loose binds of his sweatpants, your own imagination runs wild with the rough way he sways you back and forth. 

His breathing hitches and you think he’s about to come. Your eyes squeeze tight, your body electrified with the way he engulfs you. Your brain tricks you with images of Joel folding you into two and taking you from behind, his fingers wrapped around your throat and cock stretching you out. 

The rest happens in a blink of an eye; your hand falls to clutch the pillow under your head, you push yourself back to meet the rocking of his hips—the moan that follows is loud and unfiltered. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out shakily when Joel’s movements slow down to a halt. His hands move but hesitantly, trying to figure out what—who—you are. He stills, much to your surprise he doesn’t move away. 

“What’s happenin’” he slurs, lips moving along your nape. “Why are you here? Why am I—” 

He swallows. Every muscle on his bone goes tense, his hands now only hovering a lick away from your skin. He doesn’t need to look down to know that he’s hard as a rock, the inside of his sweatpants smeared with precome. He tries to move away and a hiss echoes in the silence, the tip of his cock catching against the soft fabric, a wave of arousal washes over him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull his hand back to your body, screaming for the comfort of his touch. “I couldn’t sleep,” 

His touch soothes you like a scared animal, warmth blossoming where his fingertips touch. His hand stays but his hips remain apart. 

“I’m pretty sure I should be the one apologizin’” he sighs. His hand sneaks under your shirt, skirting up your torso, your breast fits perfectly in his palm—you shudder. “You should’ve woken me up if you were having nightmares. Tell me what you need,” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You looked…peaceful.” 

“I’m never at peace.” 

You stay silent, his breath damp across your neck. He palms your breast and pinches the tender flesh that makes you jump. 

“Tell me…” he presses his nose into the curve of your neck, little hairs scraping your skin, and inhales you deeply. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Tell me what you want,” you challenge him. 

Your fingers trace the slopes of his knuckles, feeling every cut that’s been long since healed over with stretched skin. Joel denies himself of everything, as long as he’s able to, that is. He doesn’t enjoy living, doesn’t hold onto it tight as most people do. He just survives—and that’s it. 

“Please,” you beg, covering his hand with your own. “Tell me.” 

Despite not touching, you feel the twitch of his cock. You’re hoping that he hears the need you have to please him in your voice. You want to chase his heat with your body— live inside of it, and drown in it. His hand rolls down your body and squeezes your hip. 

“Want your mouth,” he groans out, voice still thick with sleep. “Wanna feel your lips tight around me,” 

You’re moving before he finishes his sentence. You throw the pillow tangled between your legs to the floor and crawl between his legs as he spreads them further. The back of his head is snug against the bedding. You trace the outline of his shaft with your fingers, your thumb brushing over the patch of wetness that had seeped into the fabric. His palm skims over the roundness of your shoulders and to the back of your neck, pushing you down. 

Slowly, you pull the restricting fabric down and smile when you notice he’s not wearing anything else. “You go commando every time you wear these?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” his chest heaves but you don’t miss the small tug of the corner of his mouth. 

You close your mouth around the fat head, swirling your tongue, you taste him eagerly. He’s pulled taut, every fiber of his being coming alive at the swipe of your tongue. You swallow him halfway and breathe heavily, your own slick coats the inside of your thighs. Your chin is strained as you wrap your fingers around the base, pumping him into your mouth. His hips stutter forward, plunging his shaft further down your throat. 

You swallow again and again, moving up and down and flattening your tongue underneath. It’s easy to fall into rhythm, as if the heat of your mouth was made for him to fill. Blunt nails bite into your skin and you allow him to push you further down, the entirety of his cock being squeezed by your throat. Soft hairs tickle your nose, your hands move up and down the thickness of his thighs. 

Joel holds you there, your mouth waters, spit trickling down the corners of your mouth. 

A loud moan falls from his already parted lips, thrusting shallowly into your throat. You choke around him, and he moves faster. 

When he releases you, you pull back and press your cheek against his thigh, your hand stroking his spit-slick shaft. Joel pulses heavily with the glide of your palm, the tip of his cock a dark shade of red. 

“Don’t stop,” he growls, hand moving falling, and cradling your neck. “You can take it, can’t you? This is what you asked for,” 

You trace the wet length of him with open-mouthed kisses, he cants his hips into your hand, skimming over your lips. A moan trembles in his chest. 

“It is.” 

The heat of your mouth is everything Joel could as for. It’s comforting, dangerously so. You suck on the tip, swirl your tongue, his stomach clenches as sweat beads over his skin. He tenderly grabs the back of your head, thumbs moving over your cheeks as he fucks himself into your mouth. He can’t hold back, the need to spill into something real— into someone he cares for, proving to be too much. 

You can barely think with the way he fills you, you hallow your cheeks, swallow around him. Joel, is visibly shaking, his eyes closed and mouth agape as he loses himself in you. Your own hand moves between your legs, cupping your sex and slipping two fingers between your slick folds. You groan at your own touch, the reverberations of your throat making him jolt. 

His thighs tense and quake, you’re so wet, the sweet symphony of noises that falls from his mouth in parts makes you clench. Joel licks his lips, thrusting into your mouth once—twice, his balls tighten, and sweat pools at the tailbone. He comes heavily down your throat, spilling into and forcing you to swallow every drop. He holds you in place, whispering sweet nothings into the dark. You swallow eagerly, the taste of him bitter but not unpleasant. 

When he finally releases you, a string of saliva follows as you part with him with a pop. You sit on your heels, fingers now drawing slow, teasing circles around your clit. Joel chokes out a gasp and lifts himself with his elbows. 

“Need help with that?” he rasps, you trace the veins meandering down his neck with heavy-lidded eyes and smile. 

“I would very much like so, yes.” 

[delopsia]

Thot for you.

You’re not sure how it started but you and Rhett figure out he rides best when he doesn’t come for a day or two before rides. He makes it far on the circuit so pretty soon it turns into a week or more and he’s a hot, needy mess. He wins (of course) and cries when he finally gets to come.

Eeek! I thought I answered this, but I must've forgotten to save my draft 😔

The way that this is like...Rhett's own personal heaven and hell, all at the same time. He's scoring higher than he ever has, consistently dominating the scoreboards and earning rounds upon rounds of applause, but also, he's losing his damn mind.

It was cute when the deal was, "No sex 48 hours before the rodeo." He could handle that. Between work and sleep, he hardly even noticed, but now the finals are creeping around the corner, and you haven't let him cum for nearly two and a half weeks now.

Rhett's never really thought of himself as being obsessed with sex or anything of that realm, but fuck, he can't quit thinking about it. Sits there rethinking his life choices when he wakes up hard in the morning, catches himself idly palming at the bulge in his jeans while he's resting in the pasture.

Everything is reminding him of the one thing that he wants, and you're. Not. Helping. Wearing those damned shorts that flatter your thighs, sitting in his lap, kissing his neck, innocently riling him up, and never doing anything about it.

Of course, he could succumb to the urge in his lower belly and touch himself, but he already knows that you'd figure it out if he did so. He's already in this deep. So he keeps clinging to that last thread of sanity until the moment he's climbed on the back of that multi-thousand-pound animal.

The rush of turning around and seeing his name jump up to the #1 slot was enough to distract him from it for an hour or two. Adrenaline and disbelief blind him from thinking about anything that isn't related to winning the rodeo.

You're not sure when he broke.

All you know is that you were stopping at the house to wash up before going back out to see his friends when, all of a sudden, he started fussing. Batting his pretty eyes at you, whining for his reward, so damn eager that he trips over his own words.

"I, I want...want—" He's cut short by your finger, pressing against his lips, big, dark eyes downright shimmering as he looks at you.

He's so pretty once you get him in bed. Unbuttoned flannel pooling at his sides, chest heaving, head rolling back and forth as your hand works him. Slow, tight strokes that pull noise after noise out of his throat, pitchy and broken apart by babbles of your name.

"Please, please, please!" He hiccups, squeezing his eyes shut, a stray tear rolling down his flushed cheek. "Wanna cum!"

"You can, dummy," you breathe. "You won, didn't you?"

His head bobs up and down with a nod. "Mhm."

You wish that you had brought a camera into the bedroom because the sight of his orgasm washing over him is one you never want to forget. Back arching off the bed, head thrashing as he cums with a sharp cry, grunting with every rope of cum that paints your hand.

It's one of those orgasms that take him a moment to come down from, and when he does, his bones have been replaced with jelly. Lazily blinking at you with that dumb, crooked smile, grumbling when you ask if he still wants to go out. It's probably the only rodeo night where he's asleep before 1AM, but come morning, he'll be waking you up bright and early for a round two, three, and four.

You hardly get anything productive done that week.

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

Haven’t been very active the last few days, I really had a shitty week, and right now I’m very hung over and I still have 6 more hours of work 🫠

But I’m bringing you this Thot so you can forgive me 🥹

Imagine your very fucking excited to see Bad Omens for the very first time, you got supper early to the venue just so you can assure you got a spot right in front of the stage.

Right as you where grabbing a hold of the barricade due to people pushing around the lights turned off for a moment and you can hear the soft rumble of the speakers around before the big intro.

the show progressed and you honestly thought that you where on cloud nine getting to expirience it live. But you also noticed how Noah kept stealing glances your way, at one point he kneeled down on the stage right in front of you and you could feel his stare burning into your skin.You thought nothing at first, maybe he was trying to connect with the general crowd around you. As the songs went on, you continue to vibe with everyone around you and have a great time, It was almost near the end of the show, and the very last song to be played is Just Pretend, you could hear the very familiar melody of the first few seconds of the song as it was one of your favorites. Noah’s voice sounded magical with new arrangement made for this live version to be played. You couldn’t stop starring him and you could of swore he was looking at you too and he might of even given you a wink.

As the song died down it was time to finally go home, before you could get out of the venue one of the security guys approached you and said someone needed to speak with you. He led you down into a hall where at the end where the green rooms at the venue. Once he reached the door desired he knocked on it and heard someone called in from within saying to come in.

As soon as you entered the room you saw him standing there just looking your way. Noah called out for? You couldn’t believe it, it was becoming all too surreal. He introduced himself as if you didn’t already know he was one of the biggest musicians in the metal scene at the moment.

You both sat on the sofa on the back end of the room, it started with just a very mild get to know me conversation but now? Now you where both moaning each other name and could barely catch a breath. Bodies covered in sweat, hot, head spiraling into the ecstasy of both your climax.

Both of you held a little secret that no else knew though; you were no strangers at all but you both loved the feeling and thrill of meeting like strangers every night. The roleplaying of rockstar and fan( maybe even a groupie) kept the flame of your relationship with Noah burning with passion and desire

A/N: here’s the little thot in my head I was talking about earlier, I hope yall enjoy xx.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[emotionalhottiee]

Broken 💔

Jimmy Uso/Jonathan Fatu

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

just a quick oneshot until i get over this writers block. Hope you enjoy.

Heart Broken…

Doesn’t even begin to explain how i feel. How could he do this to us?

Thoughts of frustration and brokenness ran rampant through my mind as hot tears poured down my face. After all i had been through with Jonathan how could he throw away everything we had. My mind ran back to walking into his condo, opening his bedroom door to be met with an image of some ig thot, bent over while the love of my life was behind her. My heart shattered had into a million pieces.

Now the tears I’ve been crying out, for the past 30 minutes have blurred my vision. Thinking about that day against my will. But seeing him tonight made the memory pop up. Even though i knew there was a slight chance he would be at our friends birthday party. Actual seeing him, just felt like another knife being jammed right into my heart.

“Kenzi, are you alright in there?” “You’ve been in this bathroom a long time” my friend Kiara screamed through the door.

I hadn’t even realized i had been in here that long, but i just couldn’t stop crying. Watching Jon strut up in this party with some new girl on his arm. As if the last year and a half meant so little to him, he could move on within days. LITERALLY 5 days ago i caught him in bed with another woman.

And now it’s saturday, and he bought a whole other woman with him. Damn, How many others were there? I thought to myself as i wiped the tears from my bloodshot red eyes. Trying to cover up the fact that i been in the bathroom of a mutal friend of ours,sobbing over this man. What did i ever do to make him be so cold & callous towards me?

I have to pull myself together! I tried to tell myself encouragingly, i am not going to let him see me, so vulnerable. For what? He doesn’t seem to care in the least bit. Too busy fake laughing at the girl with her ass hanging out of her shorts.

He’s knows her ass ain’t that funny.

As i finish up wiping my face, one last time. Before i could even get myself all the way out of the bathroom Kiara yanked my ass into a tight hug. She knew i needed this that’s why she my friend.

“Girl don’t let him make you sad. Fuck him, you deserve so much better.” She calmly stated to me rocking us back & forth. This is exactly what will make my ass start crying again. But i am so thankful for my friend, trying to keep me from being sad.

Against Kiara’s advice i decided to stay at this party. This was one of Jon & I’s mutal friend, I’m not gonna let him feel like he has won (Even though he totally has won).

I put on my bravest face to go back and chill, before our friends pull out a game of taboo. We had split up into two teams and of course i end up on a team with Jon & his whore of the week. It was almost as if God was punishing me for still wanting to be around him. But truth be told i was obsessed with him. I loved him more than the air i breathed.

And as much as i can possibly lie to myself, i know he loves me too.

*some time later*

The party winded down, Kiara & I were helping our friends clean up. Jon’s little girlfriend ended up leaving. I thought they would’ve rode together but i guess not. And I’m honestly kinda happy about that. He’s been staring at me all night. Now that he’s alone i know where this night will take us. Especially since i rode with Kiara.

Jon asked me if i needed a ride home, knowing damn well i don’t like driving at night. I tried to act like i had to go back with Kiara, she gave us a shrug letting us know she didn’t mind. She knew me too well. As much as she wanted me to stand up for myself, she knew where my heart was. And wanting to be there for me she wasn’t gonna fight me on it. I appreciated that. Giving her a hug goodnight she gave me eyes of pleading, but with a hint of be careful. I rubbed her arms up & down letting her know i’d be okay.

The ride back to Jon’s house was quiet at first nothing but low 90s R&B playing. But he eventually turned the music off. He grabbed my hand while holding the steering with his other and apologized for his actions within the last week. My eyes filled up to the brim before a tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t even respond. I just held onto his hand, he bought my hand up to his mouth still holding it kissing it ever so gently. This is the soft, caring Jon i feel in love with. For a quick second he looked at me our eyes staring into one another. Until he turned his eyes back to the road.

This is going to be a great night.

[absurdthirst]

Simply Din Djarin {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Nudity, skinny dipping, beskar-less Din, lying, first kisses, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, angst

Comments: Din decides to spend a week on a remote planet, sans armor to swim in the waters and come to terms with what he needs to do. Meeting you when you come to your swimming hole, things become intimate and you have no idea the handsome naked man in front of you is a Mandalorian. He's simply Din Djarin.

✨Who's excited for Season 3 of The Mandalorian? WE ARE!!!! ✨

A/N: This entire story is based of this NSFW GIF. What can we say? We're thots.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s a gorgeous sunny day on Bellassa, the lakes shine and with Grogu safe with the other young ones of the town, Din felt secure enough to seek out the lake. It’s deserted, no one is around, so he methodically strips off his beskar, removes his flight suit and allows this one and only moment so far in his life to let the sun hit every part of his body. 

Completely naked, he sighs in bliss, and after hiding his helmet and armor, he walks towards the shore. The cool water hits his feet, then his calves, then his thighs, until he’s waist deep. He’s never felt so free. The sun warms him and he tilts his head back, enjoying this moment without the galaxy on his beskar-clad shoulders. Dipping beneath the water, he starts to swim and revels in the feel of the cool water and the absolute silence. It’s paradise and Din knows he will be doing this again before he leaves Bellassa. 

When he breaks the surface, he inhales deeply and his eyes widen when he sees you walking towards the shore, also naked, and fuck, you’re gorgeous. He knows he should dip under the water, try to get out of sight before you see him without his beskar, but then he imagines meeting someone as plain Din Djarin. He often wonders who he would’ve been if the Mandalorians didn’t take him in. Would he have been a tradesman? Maybe he would’ve been a Rebel? Would he have a family? It makes his head spin sometimes and ultimately, he decides to pretend to be plain Din Djarin, not Mando. 

“Oh Maker!” You shriek when you see his face and you rush to cover yourself up under the water. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Din apologizes in a rush and you shiver at the cold water, 

“I haven’t seen anyone here…ever. I- I didn’t know that anyone else knew about this place. Sorry. You- you scared me.”

“I just arrived last night.” Din confesses, motioning towards the forest where his Starfighter is hidden. Grogu is still sleeping there and he shakes his head.” “I’m sorry again.” He murmurs softly. “The water was too tempting.” 

“It’s- it’s okay.” You swim back a few feet, putting some distance between you and the strange, handsome man. “I understand, I wanted to swim as well.” You introduce yourself and tilt your head at the man, finding his bashful expression to be charming. He didn’t seem like he posed a threat. “What is your name?”

He hesitates for just a second, knowing he shouldn’t give his name but you don’t seem like a threat. “Din Djarin.” He answers and you hum, repeating his name. Hearing you say it, so innocently and sweet, has his stomach twisting. “You are from Bellassa?” He asks and you nod.

“I’ve never left. I like it here. It’s peaceful. Warm and safe. What more could a girl ask for?” You tease softly, waving your arms through the water, and Din nods, a soft smile on his face. You seem so untouched by the horrors of the galaxy. 

“Not much more, I suppose. Does your family live here? Your - your partner?” He asks, a little out of practice with small talk. Most of the time he lets his fists do the talking and he grunts or has a one word answer. 

“My family lives here. My parents, my brothers and sisters. I - I don’t have a partner.” You tell him bashfully.

Din knows that his face gives away every little thought that he’s feeling. Surprise rides across it now. You are gorgeous, why wouldn’t you have a partner? “I’m here with my- my son.” He offers. “He’s like my son.” He clarifies as he realizes it sounds like he is married. “I don’t have a partner either.”

You frown, certain that a man like him would have a significant other. “Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing that neither of us have a partner because we’d have to explain why we are both swimming naked in a lake.” You giggle, loving how you can see every micro expression on his face. So many people keep their face impassive but his brown eyes show everything.

Din nods seriously, seeing how that could be a problem. “Do you swim here a lot?” He asks curiously, encouraged by the fact that you haven’t left or tried to move away from him. He’s not drifted closer, content with floating in his own area and enjoying the water engulfing him.

You nod, “every day if I can. I love how peaceful it is. It’s nice to escape and just be left to my own thoughts.” 

Din sputters, “oh I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” 

You shake your head, shifting a little closer to him, “no. No. You can stay. It’s nice to talk to someone. Tell me, what do you do, Din?” You ask him, certain he will say he’s a Rebel. He has that look about him.

“I- I’m a moisture farmer.” He thinks of Quill and nods. “On Tatooine. Supplying water to Mos Eisley.” It’s a lie, but it feels good not to have you freeze up at the knowledge that he’s a bounty hunter. Most people either want to fight him or run from him.

You sense a hesitation but you are innocent to the terrors of the galaxy. Safe on your small planet that seemed untouched by the Empire. Maybe they didn’t think it was significant enough. You’ve heard of Tatooine and know it’s a desert planet. “Wow. You- you must have seen a lot of the galaxy.” You shift closer again, curious about him. “Tell me the best place you’ve been to. I - I haven’t left the planet so I need to live through you.”

Din admires the whimsical smile on your face and wishes he could be so carefree, so unjaded by this life. “Naboo.” He murmurs softly, remembering the lush green and blue planet. The waters remind him of this lake. “Although this is a close second.” He bites his lip and flusters when he realizes how you can interpret that. It’s so much easier to think these things and stay silent behind the helmet.

You grin, liking that he has enjoyed your planet so far. “I wouldn’t mind visiting Tatooine one day.” You admit and tilt your head up towards the sun, the water rippling as you kick your legs out to float. You are uncaring of your nudity, knowing that a man as well traveled as Din should have been a variety of figures. You are here to relax, wanting to forget about your troubles.

“It’s all sand.” Din’s mouth is as dry as the Dune Sea, watching your nude body float on the water. Your nipples are perked up and he imagines sucking on them. His cock starts to harden, making him reach down and cup himself to try to make his reaction to you go away. You want to enjoy yourself, not be gawked at. “It wouldn’t be as refreshing as this.”

You close your eyes, enjoying the peace and unaware of the Mandalorian's struggle. You sigh when you open your eyes to see the sun shifting towards the horizon. "I should be heading home. My parents worry even though I am old enough to join the Rebellion." You joke and shift to head back to shore. Again, you care little for your nudity as you reach for your towel, aware of those dark eyes watching you. "Your son shall be awaiting your return too, I imagine?" You hum, drying off your body.

Din scoffs. “Little gremlin sleeps nearly all the time.” He huffs fondly, knowing that he will be hungry when he wakes up. That and will be ready to cause trouble. His eyes flirt over your body and he looks away, aware that if he keeps staring, he will get hard again. He doesn’t come out of the water completely, just to his chest and he glances back at you again. “It - it was nice to meet you.” He offers, frowning slightly at how ridiculous he sounds when he’s not hidden behind his armor.

You giggle at his expression, sliding your feet into your sandals. “You too, Din Djarin.” You wink and know he wants privacy to get out, so unlike the openness of your home planet. You make your way home, thinking of the handsome traveler. 

****

When Din returns to Grogu, the little gremlin is awake and eating the hidden box of crackers Din had stowed for snack emergencies with the kid. “I know. I lost track of time.” Din sighs, now dressed in his beskar. Grogu coos, tilting his head at Din.

The cracker in his claw, Grogu toddles over to where Din is standing and holds onto his boot until he bends down and picks him up. He shoves the cracker in his mouth and reaches out and touches the helmet and coos again, making Din sigh as he thinks about today.

**** 

You spend all day thinking about Din and decide to go back to the lake for your daily swim. You smile when you see him in the water already. “Hello Din. Long time no see.” You tease, working on stripping off to get into the water.

“Yes, such a long time.” Din can’t hide the smirk that he has as he watches you strip. You obviously have no issue baring your body and he’s curious as to why. “Is everyone on your planet like you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

You nod, knowing what he means. “We believe that the body should be admired. It is our true blessing. We are alive, we are here and that itself is a blessing. No one is ashamed of their body as every day is a gift. Our culture is not one of constant nudity but we are proud of our bodies, no matter how they look.” You explain, kicking aside your pants and you quickly walk towards the shore to step into the water. “Are Tatooians not happy to bare themselves?” You question him, wondering if his culture is more conservative than yours.

“This is the first time someone has seen me bare since-“ he shakes his head. “Since I was a child.” He admits quietly. “Tatooine has two suns, your skin would be dry and burnt under the fiery suns. Staying covered keeps you protected.” He explains, although he doesn’t tell you that no one has seen his face beyond when he had become an apostate because he is Mandalorian. Broken his creed. He has to put the helmet back on and redeem himself in the waters of Mandalore, but for now, it’s pleasant having you look at his face.

Your eyes widen, “no one has seen you? Not even a lover?” You ask him, surprised that no one has caressed every inch of his body. “Surely you have had lovers caress your body?” You ask with curiosity and confusion.

“No one.” He’s not celibate, he’s had sex. Normally in the back of a cantina or some dusty alleyway. Only baring his cock and taking them from behind. No one had touched his skin until Grogu had when he was leaving with the Jedi.

Your eyebrows raise, “no one?” You’re shocked. He’s so handsome and you’re certain that any lover he chooses would be lucky to have him, you know you’d want him to want you again. Biting your lip, you shift closer. “Can I- can I touch you?” You ask softly and he hesitates, you see it in his eyes until he nods once. You shift even closer until you’re standing in front of him, the water covering your chests but you reach up to caress his cheek. His eyes close and you feel him shudder. There’s nothing but the sound of the waves and the breeze as your hand trails down to caress his neck, featherlight touches to his skin while you slowly move your hand down to his clavicle where you see the scars. “You were in fights?” You question him, tracing a scar.

“Some.” He reminds himself that you don’t know about the beskar that is hidden in a bundle surrounded by his cape in the cave. You don’t know that most tremble and scatter like rats when he walks through the towns he arrives in. You just see a man in front of you, one that you are obviously attracted to. He knows that look in someone’s eyes. He groans when you fingers brush over a nipple delicately, his cock twitching in interest. 

You smile softly when he groans, adding your other hand to the effort of caressing him. You trail your hands along his chest, pressing your palms onto it so you can feel his rapid heartbeat. “Can I kiss you?” You ask softly, meeting his eye and he inhales sharply. He has never been kissed before. He doesn’t know if you’ll be happy with his kiss but he nods and you carefully lean in to brush your lips against his.

Din shudders, inhaling as your lips caress his and his hand comes to hover around the back of your neck before he touches you. Groaning when your kiss firms up, and his eyes flutter closed, just absorbing the almost overwhelming sensation of your lips on his. The idea that his lips might be dry has him sliding his tongue out to wet them and gasping when your tongue touches his. 

He seems so hesitant and you enjoy how he exhales into your mouth when you become bolder, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Your hands slide up to wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss languidly, in no rush to move things along. You like how sloppy he is, making you feel in control, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it.

The moan Din lets out is pathetic, nearly a whimper but you seem to know that he loved it. Pulling on his hair again and moving closer to him. His cock is rock hard, poking you in the stomach as you press against him. Making him blush as he pulls away, “sorry.” He rasps out, hating that he can’t control himself.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You promise, “I like it. I like that I’ve affected you so much.” You press yourself against him, trapping his cock between you. Loving how big he feels against your tummy. “Tell me what you want, Din.” You murmur, pressing kisses along his jaw.

Din’s lashes flutter and he moans, his cock pulsing against the soft skin of your belly. “I want-“ he starts, panting when you nibble on his ear. “Dank ferik.” He hisses. “I want to- to let you touch me. To touch you.” He’s touched people before but it’s always been through the layer of his glove. “Fuck you.”

You smile against his skin, able to read him like a book but you love hearing him say he wants to fuck you. "I want you to fuck me." You confess, kissing along his neck and you reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock, squeezing him. "You can touch me wherever you want." You tell him breathily, desperate to feel his hands on you.

Din hisses, barely able to keep from thrusting into your grip. “Fuck, fuck.” He feels you wrap your legs around his waist and he loves the way your skin slides against his. Turning to sluice through the water to shore, he ducks his head and starts kissing any part of you his lips can touch. Carefree in a way Din has never been before, able to just feel and prioritize pleasure over everything else. It’s freeing, you’re freeing.

He lays you down on the sand and you caress his back as he kisses along your chest, down to your breasts. He’s sloppy and eager, making you gasp his name as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You can tell he’s fumbling but his enthusiasm makes up for it. “Maker.” You pant, arching your back into his mouth and his cock twitches against your thigh.

Din has never tasted anything like the taste of your skin, covered in the fresh water and sand. It’s musky and salty, making his moan as his tongue flicks over the hard peak of your breast. Your response spurs him on and he wants to keep suckling at you until you push him away.

You push at his chest and shift so he lays down. He follows your silent request, pliable and eyes full of awe. It makes you feel powerful and wanted. You shift to straddle him, bending over to kiss along his chest. “Din. You are so beautiful.” You lick along the various scars and blemishes covering his skin until you are kneeling between his thighs. You wrap your hand around his impressive cock, fingers not able to touch with how girthy he is, and you lean in to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

“Dank ferik!” Din whines, eyes blown wide and entire body jolting in pleasure. Without the armor on, he’s stripped of all his defenses and unable to stop himself from talking. “Fuck, oh fuck.” He pants, digging his fingers into the sand under him to keep from grabbing you. Your breasts rub against his thighs and he swears that you are a sorcerer, just like the Jedi, as you lap at his cock. He’s never trusted someone to suck his cock, it made him too vulnerable, but you think he’s just a man and he can’t believe this is what he’s been missing.

You love how wrecked he looks and you haven't even started. Deciding to take him deeper, you widen your jaw and look up to meet his dark gaze, his mouth open as he pants out harsh breaths. It's gorgeous and you want him to remember this moment forever. You want to sear this into his memory. You can sense he's holding back so you lift off of his cock, "you can touch me," you tell him and resume your attempts to take him deeper down your throat.

His hand shoots down to cradle your jaw, cupping it and pressing his fingers to the hinge of your jaw. Making you open your mouth so he can see his cock. “Fuuuuuuck.” He hisses, overwhelmed by how good you look like that. “Are you enjoying sucking my cock?” He groans out.

You hum around him, letting him know you do. You usually don't do this. Your last boyfriend was - Maker knows how long ago. You aren't one for casual but Din seems to bring something out inside of you. You whimper when he grabs the back of your neck and pushes you further down his cock. You choke but try to breathe through your nose to swallow around him.

“Fuck- I - I never -I never had someone do this.” He growls out the confession, eyes burning into yours. You seem to make him want to confess everything, to bare himself even more. “So good.” He pants. “I want to try.” He promises you. “After- after I fuck you.”

You moan around his cock, looking forward to touching you. You’re dripping wet and aching for his touch. His hands are surprisingly soft, making you think he wears gloves. “Fuck. I- I don’t want to cum down your throat.” He admits, knowing he won’t last long if you keep sucking him like that. You reluctantly pull off of him, not wanting this to end too soon, and you kiss up his stomach, loving the slight belly he has, and you eventually press your lips to his. Straddling him so his cock is pressed between you.

He isn’t a virgin, but there is something that about the way you notch his cock at your entrance and start to stink down on him has his toes curling into the sand. His fingers dig into your hips and he groans your name as his voice breaks. It’s hot and tight and wet, probably more so because he can feel everything. Nothing is hidden behind the layers.

You moan, sinking down onto him until he’s fully inside of you. Your walls flutter around him, and you whimper his name. Your hands caress his chest, admiring the tattoo he has etched into his skin. “Feel so good.” You pant and lift your hips, starting a slow pace to ride his cock.

The view is different without that display from his helmet. The colors are more brilliant and without any of the information coming up on the screen. He just…watches. You’re gorgeous as you gallop on his cock, using him for your own pleasure and giving him more than he ever dreamed possible. Making him try to move with you, chasing the heat of your cunt when you lift off of him.

You love how his fingers will leave bruises, how you’ll know he was inside of you tomorrow with every move you make. “Oh Maker. You- you feel so good.” You pant and rock your hips, leaning forward to press your chest against his, your lips seeking his with an eagerness you’ve never felt.

Din jerks his head back on instinct and then lunges forward to kiss you. Most often someone coming towards his face was either trying to remove his helmet or head butt him. Not with you though. Your tongue slides into his mouth again and he twitches deep inside you. Moaning into your mouth as he sloppily tries to copy the flicks of your tongue.

You don’t care that he seems inexperienced, you love being able to take control, to show him what to do. His tongue flicks against yours and you grind back onto him. “Fuck.” You pant into his mouth when the new angle has his pelvis grinding into your clit and his cock angled against that spot inside of you that makes you cry out against his mouth.

The second that Din feels you clench around him, he knows that this is the angle that is going to make you cum. Grabbing the back of your neck, he angles his hips to keep pressure on your clit, loving how you grind down on him. You’re more enthusiastic and responsive than any other person he’s fucked. Making him want to make you scream his name. A memory he can take with him when he leaves.

You squeal, letting him position you, and you frantically grind back onto him. You’re so close. You pant, eyes squeezed shut, until you’re crying out against his jaw. “Fuck!” You wail, clamping down on his cock, thighs shaking and you can’t seem to move anymore, your body freezing as you clamp down on his cock and soak him.

“Dank ferik!” Din wraps his arms around you, thankful that the water had hard packed the sand right where he is laying. Letting him thrust up into you when you seem incapable of moving. Loving how your moans pitch up in octave every time he fills you to the hilt. Every nerve ending in his body alight with need as he chases his own release.

“I- I have an implant. Cum inside of me. Please. Cum inside of me.” You plead, letting him use your body and extend your orgasm. “Please Din.” You ramble, pressing your lips to his, loving how he’s holding you close.

“Fuck, Mesh’la.” Din gasps against your lips and his hips work even harder, pistoning up as hard as he can. Tightening his hold on you while the loud squelch of your cunt is all he can hear along with the roaring thunder starting to build in his blood. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you uuuuuuup!” He cries out, body tightening as he pulls you down in his cock one last time and stays buried inside you, pumping you full of his cum.

You collapse against him, head pressed against his as his cock pulses inside of you, and you sigh against his chin. “Fuck.” You pant, out of breath, and when his cock finally stops pulsing, you kiss his jaw. You’re exhausted and boneless but in an incredible way. “Maker. That was - wow.” You giggle, amazed that he made you cum so hard. No other lover has made you feel like this.

Din hums, closing his eyes and panting as he tries to catch his breath. Stroking your back lazily because he’s unable to stop touching you. “Very…wow.” He agrees, more relaxed than he’s ever been in his life. The water laps at his feet gently and the breeze cools his heated skin. It’s paradise and he’s reluctant to move from this spot.

You kiss him softly, glad he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and you are about to slide your tongue into his mouth when you hear a coo. You pull back, looking up to see a small creature with big eyes and even bigger ears staring at you and Din. “Maker!” You shriek, shifting off of Din and you grab your towel to cover yourself up.

“Grogu.” Din had rolled over, about to face whatever danger was coming bare assed, only to be faced with his son. He drops his head slightly as the baby starts toddling over. “This is- this is my son.” Din explains. “I care for him.” Reaching out as soon as the baby toddles close enough, he snatches him up. Watching as the large black eyes get even wider and he coos as he reaches a three fingered claw out to touch Din’s face. “Sorry, he was still asleep.” He tells you. “You know you’re supposed to stay with the ship.” He scolds Grogu lightly, aware the child does what he wants.

You step closer now you know it’s his son. “He looks just like you.” You tease and Din snorts. You reach out to gently caress his ear and he coos at you, reaching up to press his claw to your face, his other hand still pressed to Din’s. You feel a surge of electricity run through you and you gasp, your eyes meeting Din’s. “What was that?” You ask, eyes wide and Din sets Grogu down to grab a towel. 

“Nothing.” Din rushes out and you are confused by his change in demeanor. 

“I will see you tomorrow?” You ask and he nods, picking Grogu up again. “Okay. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” You wave at the child who coos and offers you a toothy smile.

“You can’t do that.” Din scolds as he walks back to the cave where his armor is hidden. “Your Jedi powers shouldn’t be used on everyone.” Grogu coos up at him and Din sighs, knowing the child is hungry “yes, we’ll get you something to eat.” He tells him, wondering if he will see you tomorrow. 

****

“Dank ferik.” Din moans, sitting up this time with you in his lap, his cock buried inside you as he bites along your shoulder. “So fucking good, don’t want to leave.”

“Don’t.” You beg breathlessly, rocking your hips and your hands grip his shoulders, “don’t leave. I don’t want you to go.” You confess, pressing your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Your hips rock against his, nails scratching his skin.

He doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay here with you, but the Darksaber is in his possession. He was the leader of Mandalore. He needed to unite his people and more importantly, he needed to redeem himself in the Living Waters of Mandalore. “Have to.” He gasps when the kiss is broken. “Have to- to move on.”

You hate that he has to go. Certain you could love him. You’ve talked, in the aftermath of your lovemaking, you talk about the galaxy and your family, and he tells you what he can but you can sense he’s holding back. “Stay.” You plead, wishing you could convince him even though you can tell he has to go. You cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his, and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass.

Din groans, wishing that he could, leaning in and kissing you harshly. Biting your bottom lip and then soothing it with his tongue as he rocks his hips up. “I would.” He gasps out. “If-if things were different. I would stay.” He imagines it, staying and raising Grogu here and marrying you. Having children with you and raising them without his helmet.

You feel tears sting in your eyes, knowing that this man will be leaving tomorrow. It makes your heart break. You have fallen for him and you know it’s going to hurt you to watch him go when you could so easily picture spending the rest of your life with him. You don’t say another word as you focus on how he feels inside of you, wanting to memorize the smallest detail, down to his breathing and the way he smells, his scars and the way his hands caress your skin. “Oh Maker.” You pant, feeling yourself getting close and you whimper, not wanting to cum because when you do, he will and you know he will leave you.

There’s a desperation in the way you move together. The week spent swimming and fucking meaning more to him that he could ever explain. Feeling closer to you than anyone, ever. Din holds you close, rocking his hips up and mumbling words into your skin. Praises, words in Mando'a. Telling you how he feels without voicing the words. His grip bruising and his kisses desperate.

You don’t recognize what he is murmuring into your skin, words like “mesh’la” and “cyar’ika” and “riduur.” You don’t know what they mean but the way he says them has you clinging to him. “Oh fuck. Din. Im going to -” You grind down on top of him and stop, not wanting to cum just yet. 

“Come on baby.” He murmurs, grabbing your ass to help you move and you let him drag you down and lift you on his cock. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fu-” You choke, burying your face in his neck as you clamp down on his cock.

Din groans out your name, cumming right behind you. Holding you tight as he rolls his hips up and empties himself into you. Loving how you take every drop of his cum and whine as his seed coats your walls. Holding onto you and wrapping himself around you as both ride out your high.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, and you feel his heart beating as fast as yours. You don’t say a word, just breathe him in, and you savor these last moments you’ll have with him before you return him. You’re not sure you could ever come to this beach again to swim after he leaves, he will haunt you here.

“This has been the best time of my life, mesh’la.” Din murmurs softly, his hands splayed across your back as he holds you against him. Not wanting to break the contact because it will be the last time he touches you like this. Skin to skin. He pulls back and stares into your eyes. “I’ll never forget it.” He can’t promise to come back, he doesn’t know what will happen, and he doesn’t want you to wait for a ghost.

You kiss him, soft and sweet, and you delay his departure back to his ship for as long as possible, memorizing those dark brown eyes, tracing his tattoo and the way he smiles when you run your finger along his nose. When the breeze turns cold, you shiver and he lifts you off of his lap, “come on, cyar'ika. Let’s get dressed.” He grunts as he stands up, reaching for your clothes, and you slowly dress. 

Once you’re dressed, you reach up to cup his cheek, “goodbye Din. May the force be with you.” You murmur, recognizing the force in Grogu and you haven’t asked him any questions but you assume that his son is part of the reason he has to leave.

“May…the force be with you.” Din murmurs, trying to school his face so the shock isn’t obvious. Reaching for you one last time, he pulls you close and kisses you tenderly, not a kiss of passion but one of love. “Take care of yourself, cyar'ika.” He begs softly, letting you go and turning around so he can walk to the caves to get dressed for the last time on this planet.

****

It’s been a restless night, tossing and turning when you think of Din leaving you in the morning and you know you can’t let him go. You’ll follow him across the galaxy, no questions asked. You wake up as the sun rises, rushing to get ready and gather a pack full of things. You say goodbye to your family, acting like it’s another day, and rush to the place you know his ship is parked. “Din! Din!” You shout, rushing up to the only ship in the clearing and you pant to try and catch your breath. A few months later, a man clad in armor appears and your heart stops, making you backup a little. “I- I’m looking for Din Djarin.”

Underneath the mask, Din had broken out into a smile before he appeared in front of you. Happy to hear your voice and hoping that you were going to tell him that you would come with him. That you wanted to be with him wherever he had to go. Until he steps out and your face changes. He sees the fear fill your eyes and you step back from him, wary of the man in front of you. Mando. The same reaction he gets from most. Instead of removing his helmet, Din shakes his head, lowering his voice through the modulator. “He left.” He tells you curtly, heart aching because he knows that he loves you. It’s for the best though, you are scared of the beskar, scared of who he really is. Din Djarin is just an illusion.

Your heart breaks at the news that Din has already left. The Mandalorian looks like he could snap you in two and you know he won’t want you sobbing in front of him. “Oh, uh, okay. If - if you happen to see him, can you tell him I wanted to come with him? If you see him…tell him I love him.” You tell the Mandalorian even though you know he would likely never see Din, you felt like you had to tell someone. Even if it was the imposing beskar clad Mando.

He doesn’t trust himself to answer, instead he just nods once. Watching you and memorizing your face. It’s different through the HUD and he doesn’t like it as much as looking up at your face without the separation. The news that you loved him fills his heart with joy and sorrow, hating that he can’t have what he wants. After staring for a long minute, Din turns around and starts to finish closing up the panels on the star fighter to get it ready for take off.

You stand there, watching the star fighter engines start and you swallow as the tears start to stream down your cheeks, mourning the future you could’ve had with Din. You’re not sure why you watch the Mandalorian go but just as he lifts up from the ground, your eyes widen. “Grogu?” You gasp, seeing Din’s son pop up in the back seat and you glance back at the Mando, putting two and two together. “Wait! Wait!” You shout as the starfighter lifts higher. “Din! Stop!” You scream, begging him to hear you but the engines are too loud and he doesn’t look down at you. You’re helpless, unable to do anything except watch him disappear into the sky and off into the galaxy. 

“Goodbye Din Djarin.” You sob, sinking down to the ground to cry your heart out. You’ll never forget him, the man known to the rest of the galaxy as a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian, the Mand’alor. To you, he was simply Din Djarin.

[herbgerblin]

ipre theater thots

loosely based off of this poll. sorry, this got away from me. i was a theater kid for years (i still am, i literally made a bunch of friends larp as wizards two weeks ago)

Davenport: Producer and Stage Manager. Personally more experienced in opera than musicals, but answers the call when the need for a manager arises. Keeps everyone focused and on schedule. Has final word on what choices the art department gets to make. Sometimes does solo performances on his own time.

Merle: Choreographer and Director. Leads the ensemble into meditation every rehearsal before warming up. Talks with each member of the cast one-on-one. Sometimes leaves the script open to interpretation. His artistic vision sounds bonkers in concept, but illuminating in execution. Why are there so many plants? Don't worry about it.

Magnus: Lead Actor and Set Builder. He brings the energy every single night. He doesn't need to be micc'ed up because his natural voice projects well enough. It takes a bit of time for him to memorize the script, but he devotes his heart and soul to it. He claps loudly for the ensemble when he's in the wings. He cries at the emotional numbers. Built all the sets by hand.

Lucretia: Co-stage Manager and Supporting Actor (not for lack of chops, only because she spreads herself very thin.) Knows the script like a second language. Mainly reserves her Director Voice for backstage when things get chaotic. Enjoys performing the musical numbers because no one knows she can belt, until she does. Standing ovation girlie, but bashful about it.

Lup: Co-lead Lead Actor and Costumer. Only willing to do the role if Davenport lets her include cold sparks and fog machines in the set budget (he finds a way.) No one knows when she took measurements for the costumes, but they're ready by dress rehearsal and they fit perfectly. Helps the other actors figure out their groove. Great at engaging the audience.

Angus (special edition): Child lead and stagehand. The sweetest little singing voice you ever did hear. Everyone is going to rue the day his voice starts cracking. A heartbreaker of a performer and a speedy backstage assistant.

Taako: A MYSTERY. He's wearing a fancy scarf and roaming all over the place. He's talking about the Art of the Theatre. He's listed on the billing of lead actors and NO ONE knows what his role is. He remembers all the little things that everyone forgets: clothes pins, a hot glue gun, and electrolytes. He's got a walkie-talkie. Only the managers and tech are supposed to have walkie-talkies. Hello, this is Taako speaking, over.

Barry: Usually Tech. He's got a beautifully choreographed queue of lighting designs and stage effects. He's got an immaculately labeled pad controller and a ready-to-go Excel spreadsheet. But on opening night, Lucretia informs him he's in the orchestra pit.

Barry: ...But I'm lighting tonight.

Lucretia (via walkie-talkie): And our percussionist twisted his ankle tripping over a stage light. You're in the orchestra now, compadre.

Barry: (with increasing emphasis, decreasing conviction) But. I'm. Light. Tech.

Taako: E N T E R T H E P I T B A R O L D

Davenport: Taako, get off this line.

During intermission, Magnus asks him to help lift the ensemble dancers onto the set scaffolding, and hold it steady. Barry agrees, thinking he's in the clear after that. But the second the music number ends, Merle tells him that one of the support roles had to leave, so now he's the understudy.

Barry (longsuffering): I am just. the light guy.

Merle (gesturing to Taako in the balcony, having a ballgame playing with the lightboard): well, in two minutes you're the showstopper guy, so you need to go out there and stop the show

Lup (emerging from nowhere, slapping a red, hooded robe on Barold's shoulders): Knock 'em dead!

Barry: D:

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: vampire!natsuo todoroki x f!reader

word count: 3.5k

about: natsuo is handsome, well dressed, charming, and everything you’ve ever wanted but something tells you there’s more to him than meets the eye - given you can only see him after the sun sets.

contents: sfw, no smut here but suggestive behavior in the final scene. modern au, the todoroki family are vampires, natsuo is mid twenties and so is reader, a scene containing touya, fuyumi, and shoto, meet cute, reader struggles to sleep at night, mentions of blood. i will be further elaborating on this dynamic/au in the future!

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! welcome to week three! this is just good ol fashioned halloween romcom nonsense you'd come to expect from me. natsuo was the pinkprint and deserves his time in the sun so this is the first of TWO stories about him. the next will have smut, pinkie swear, but in the meantime hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Natsuo Todoroki, at his core, is a morning person.

How is one a vampire and a morning person? The two ideas seem contradictory but it’s just who he is, unable to be changed no matter how much time passes.

As a child, he would solemnly park himself at window sills and wrap himself up in the complicated and lacy curtains his mother dressed them in to keep light from getting inside. Waking with the sweet song of the birds outside his own heavy curtained windows, he’d watch the orange ball rise higher and higher into the sea of blue that it would come to rest in, only to be pulled away by his older siblings or his mother tutting at him for messing with the curtains again.  

He wondered what it would be like to be the sun. Bright and blazing, warming everyone around him without effort. It’s just what the sun naturally does.

Now, as an adult, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his scrubs after his shift in the emergency department ends and wonders what it must be like to be the sun as he wanders out onto the streets, zipping his jacket up over his chest and sinking into the warmth. It’s cold and wet in a way that is typical of an October night, the sliver of the moon sinking lower and lower as the sun begins to make her ascent to start the day.

He works his overnight shift for obvious reasons.

Dr. Todoroki’s reputation as affable and easy to work with is something the entire shift celebrates when he’s scheduled. He is well liked but nobody bothers to ask him to stick around once the shift is over because he’ll turn down the offers anyway.

There’s nothing more that he enjoys than his walks before dawn. It’s the only time he can even get this close to daylight, to feel the world heat up while he remains cold. 

Tonight, though, he isn’t alone on his walk and he’s all too acutely aware of where you walk several feet away from him on the adjacent sidewalk. He smells you long before he sees you, one of his fangs that keeps retracted at all times jutting out of his jaw and slicing his lip, and after verifying he isn’t bleeding he decides to keep a respectable distance despite his concern for your well being.

Why in the world are you out walking the city sidewalks by yourself at 3:58 AM?

You notice him, tall and broad and wearing green scrubs that obviously indicate he just got done working at the hospital, but you keep your distance. Walking the city is a choice you make well aware of the danger that could befall you but you also live by the “don’t start any and there won’t be any” mantra when it comes to trouble. So far it has served you well but it isn’t like you’ve ventured far from where you live, only around 6 blocks away from your tiny interior apartment. 

You struggle to sleep at night, trying every remedy under the sun but it never comes, so you walk until you can’t think any longer. You pace until you stumble into your home after the sun rises, almost too exhausted to move and then finally you are tired enough to sleep. 

Looking around the sidewalk, you splash in a puddle and hear a chuckle from the sidewalk across from you. Natsuo stands, hands still buried in his pocket, glancing at you from the corner of his eye and curiosity gets the better of you so you turn in his direction with your arms folded across your chest.

“What’s so funny?” Your tone is light hearted and he catches onto it immediately, gray eyes casting you more than a sidelong glance. The distance between the two of you keeps him from getting too good of a look at you but he likes what he can see. 

Natsuo finds you undeniably attractive, there’s something sweet about you besides your scent, and it makes him even more anxious to know you’re pacing all alone. The area around the hospital tends to be pretty safe but he worries what would happen if you went further down the road, where the amount of street lights grows fewer the further you go into the residential areas. So he bites, simply in an effort to make sure that you’re alright and will be okay after he departs.

“You, I guess.”

You laugh and he feels a thousand sunrises in his chest. Whatever he witnessed through curtains, whatever he has seen rising above the horizon like a beautiful balloon in the sky will never compare to this. He isn’t sure how to act so he slaps his hands against his thighs, shrugging and offering his signature Dr. Todoroki grin, toothsome and bright.

“I’ll be here all week.”

There’s an undeniable pull between you and this man but you stop just short of walking across the street. He seems safe and trustworthy, a good haircut and a killer smile but all of those traits were also attributed to Ted Bundy at one point or another so you decide to play it safe and stay in your place across from him, arms folded over your chest to ward off the chill in the air.

He watches your body language change and tries to match it the best that he can, keeping his hands buried in his pockets and his chin tucked into the collar of his jacket. Making you anxious is the last thing he wants and he won’t prod if you aren’t interested but his gut tells him to take a chance, to break the silence and see where it gets him. 

So he does.

“Seriously though, why are you out here at this time of night?”

Shrugging, you squeeze yourself where your arms are wrapped over your torso. It’s a soothing action, the equivalent of a hug. You feel better after it.

“Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“Whichever you’re most comfortable sharing.”

He chuckles again and you focus on his face, deep dimples visible even from several feet away and your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s obviously employed…you shake your head to loosen this line of thinking, still holding yourself tightly when he takes the steps toward you to close the gap. You hop back from the edge of the sidewalk slightly, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you, and Natsuo feels that ache in his upper jaw that indicates his teeth are going to descend.

He takes ten steps to the side of you, leaving ample room between your bodies, and the ache stops enough that he can focus on what you’re about to say. You appreciate how respectful he is of your space although you have no idea his reasons aren’t wholly altruistic and it softens you toward the man further.

“I have never really slept well at night,” you start and he hums empathetically. He understands more than you could begin to know. “Even when I was a kid, it’s like sleep terrified me. Closing my eyes and not thinking and just being for a while. What could be more terrifying than not overthinking all night?”

“I get it. I have the same problem, that’s why I’m on overnights.”

You nod, smiling at him.

"Good to know there's someone else that doesn't have good luck with melatonin gummies."

A kindred spirit. Perhaps that's why you still feel so drawn to him despite the ten big steps between your bodies and you relax for the first time since he laughed at you, taking the time to really look at him now that he's so close.

He's just as handsome as you imagined when your mind was filling in blanks from across the street, hair as white as snow, tanned complexion, gray eyes. It's intimidating to see a man who looks like he belongs in the pages of a magazine face to face, much less one who is obviously flirting with you and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

Noticing your discomfort, he decides to introduce himself.

"I'm Natsuo. I'm a doctor." He cringes at himself upon realizing what he just said but you smile, arms still folded but posture slackening. "I don't know why I felt the need to tell you that."

You introduce yourself and he takes the time to memorize your name, repeating it and savoring the feeling of it across his tongue. A name as pretty as the person carrying it.

"It's okay, at least I know that you aren't some creep that stole a pair of scrubs off of the dude you just beat down for them. Unless..."

Natsuo laughs and heat rushes to your cheeks.

"Nah, I'm more of a lover than a fighter. My fatal flaw some might say."

You laugh and that same feeling blooms within him, rivaling the sun that is steadily beginning to rise over the buildings in the distance. He sighs when he sees it, removing his hand from his pocket and rubbing it over his face.

"I don't want to be weird or anything but I do this every night and..." he trails off, uncertain of what he wants to ask you, but you seem to get the message.

"I do, too. Same place and same time?"

Smiling, he nods and begins to walk in the direction opposite you toward where his car is parked at the hospital. He has to get home before the sun rises and he'll be cutting it close if he continues to slow play his departure but it's worth it for another second spent around you.

"Thanks for tonight. I needed it," you admit aloud and his ears turn red in response, bright and vivid through the snowy white hair barely covering them.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

“Where do you think you’re off to lookin’ so pretty?”

Natsuo rolls his eyes as he readjusts the buttons of the long sleeved shirt he donned just for the occasion of the evening while his brother reaches up and attempts to ruffle his meticulously spiked hair. It isn’t hard work for him to dodge his shorter brother but he shoves him with his shoulder anyway, frowning. 

“Stop it, Touya. I’m not going anywhere you need to know about.”

The thing about saying those words in reference to you, feeling them leave his lips in shapes he would rather not experience, is that they make his stomach flip. Anxiety turns the organ inside out, the man sighing through an army of uneasy butterflies in his stomach. He knows he can’t tell anyone about you, least of all his family. They have their own secrets but they’ve always strictly forbidden the taboo romance between a vampire and a human knowing it only ends in pain.

He’ll risk the trouble for you, though.

You - sweet, easy going, beautiful. Glowing with life beneath the dimly lit booths you snuggle in to press your knees against his long after the sun has set. Grinning as you grab his hand beneath the surface of the bar four blocks away from your apartment and two away from the hospital, the floors sticky with substances neither of you have cared to imagine. 

It has been months since that fateful first dawn walk, the two of you making a habit out of striding side by side. Natsuo ignores the ache in his jaw, you ignore the way he hasn't asked you for anything physical yet beyond holding hands, assuming he's just a little old fashioned.

“I’m starting to think you have a secret, little brother.”

He's keeping secrets from more than just Touya; the guilt gnaws at him if he thinks about it too long so he doesn't.

Natsuo shakes his head and raises his brows, a smirk playing across his lips. He happens to know where his own brother goes after the sun sets, eagerly bringing books and paintings to the home of the vampire that has been alleged to have started their family curse by biting Enji, their father; a woman perpetually 26 despite the many many centuries that have passed since her turn. 

“No worse than the one you’re keeping, I can assure you that.”

With that, Touya clears his throat and takes his space, fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants rather than making eye contact with his brother. Caught red handed and he knows it, he chooses to play offense rather than explain himself.

“You know about that?”

His younger brother smiles and claps him on the back with a nod.

“Keep mine and I’ll keep yours?”

“Obviously, dumbass.”

Taking a deep breath, Natsuo rolls his shoulders and lifts his hands to his hair, fingers running through it to calm him down. He yanks at the strands for a moment, thick fingers twining between the white strands, and Touya wonders what has him so uncertain. 

It’s not like he’s dating a human.

“I’m seeing someone and we have a date tonight.”

Oh, he’s dating a human.

“Jesus, Natsu,” Touya’s brows pinch together in the middle and he wraps an arm around his brothers’ shoulder, pulling him to his side. “You’re such a simp.”

Scoffing, the taller of the two looks down at his brother and frowns. He’s never truly astounded by Touya’s audacity but it does catch him off guard considering the only bigger rule you can break than consorting with a human in the Todoroki household is the one he’s currently attempting to bend.

“Who taught you that word? Your thousand year old girlfriend?” Touya returns his scoff, shoving him with the arm that isn’t wrapped around his shoulder and raising his voice. “She isn’t a thousand fuckin-”

Before he can finish the sentence, Fuyumi peaks around the corner and arches her brow wordlessly. Neither of the men can hide anything from their older sister so they don't bother, scooting over to let her into Natsuo's walk in closet just like they used to do as children when they were discussing the events of the world.

"So you're both breaking the big two?"

Natsuo sighs and nods sadly but Touya chuckles, clapping his sister on the shoulder just as he did his brother. That's one thing the siblings have always appreciated about one another - everyone is equal. Equal to give shit to, equal to protect, even Shouto who they all go to pains to take care of even more than the older siblings do one another.

"Please don't tell dad," Natsuo isn't above begging if it means he gets to keep you. He looks up at his sister through his lashes and she smiles back at him. "Of course, Natsu. We're all breaking some rule at the end of the day."

Both of her brothers raise their eyebrows and she shrugs, zipping her lips dramatically while the youngest of the four peeks around the corner with a deadpan glance.

"What are you guys doing in here?"

They look at his mismatched eyes and bunch together, making enough room for the fourth of them to squeeze inside.

"Natsuo's dating a human."

Fuyumi and Natsuo open their mouth to gasp and Shouto shakes his head. How his elder siblings haven't noticed at this point is beyond him, given Natsuo narrowly stumbles in the door as the sun rises every single morning, but the youngest has always been the most astute of the bunch.

"Yeah, obviously. He reeks of her every time he comes home."

Despite the terror of being caught, Natsuo belly laughs. There's nobody else he could be shoved in a closet with, admitting to lying to their parents and breaking the codes of honor the entire family have taken seriously as long as they've existed.

They all have secrets, Fuyumi was right. He is relieved and he feels full of love, group hugging his siblings and squeezing them as tightly as he can until all three start to groan and slap at his biceps.

"Okay well now that the cat is out of the bag can you guys leave me alone? I'm already running late."

Fuyumi and Shouto are the easy sells, wishing him luck and leaving to go gossip across the house but Touya sticks around, looking at his little brother that has become a full grown man with his own life and career and apparently, love.

He's proud but he'll never say it out loud instead choosing to further antagonize.

"Does she know?"

Natsuo shakes his head and Touya hisses through his teeth, clapping his brother on the shoulder and walking out of the closet.

"Good luck with that."

He knows that he'll need it.

"Do you want to come inside?"

This is the first time you've offered the option to Natsuo, his discomfort with any physical affection keeping you from broaching the subject this far, but the time feels right. The two of you spent the evening at an outdoor art show, admiring pottery and painting with your hands joined.

You are undeniably attracted to this man and you hope that you aren't misreading his affection toward you as more than simple friendliness, your evenings spent with him some of the best you've had since you can remember. Your hands remain linked, fingers twined and dangling in the small space between your bodies where you both lean against the frame of your front door.

Natsuo smiles down at you and it feels like the world disappears, walls and floors and atmosphere melting into something that doesn't matter when he looks at you. You've known it for awhile but there's no denying it - you're in love with him and asking him to spend the night, or morning rather, feels like the most logical next step.

His hesitation makes you doubt yourself, though.

"You don't have to, Natsuo. I know you're busy an-" he cuts you off by grasping your cheek with his free hand, thumb running along the soft skin beneath it. He has never been this close to you before, his teeth aching despite his self restraint, and he knows that tonight he must decide to be honest or leave you behind.

The thought of leaving you behind breaks his heart. You are the sun that he has so badly craved his entire life and there's no way he can continue without you, even if it means telling the truth and putting you both in the way of trouble in the process.

"I want to."

Smiling, you reach for the door and unlock it, keying in the code that you know he watches. You hope he has it memorized, if not you'll remind him again later. The lock unlatches, a mechanical whirring in the door, and as soon as the door opens he has you pulled against his body.

Pressed against the door, he finally kisses you. It's hungry, something raw and fiery beneath his exterior coming to the surface and you know that you'd let him have every bit of you right here on the floor if he wanted it. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his hands across your sweater clad body make you moan into his mouth and you yelp when something pokes your lip, assuming he nipped you a little harder than intended.

Mortified, Natsuo backs away from you with wide eyes and you see his tooth poking out of his top lip. The tip of it is dotted with blood from your lip and he backs away from you unable to hide his horror.

"I'm so sorry, I..." he mumbles a string of apologies and you put your hands on his chest to stop him, close enough to him that his body reacts naturally and his second fang descends through his jaw and peeks out of his top lip to join the first.

Your wide eyes gaze at him but hold no fear and he marvels at you. You are so trusting, so brave, so kind despite now knowing he's a...

"Vampire."

It takes all of you to contain the smile on your face from becoming too big when the word leaves your lips. You had an inkling something was different about him but you never assumed it would be this.

Dr. Natsuo Todoroki, your walking buddy, your companion, is a vampire.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Using the grip you have on his chest, you pull him down until he's face level with you. The same smile dances across your face and you waste no time kissing him for real this time, paying no mind to the way he whimpers when his tongue laves over the small puncture wounds his teeth have left on your bottom lip. You let him lick over the spots until he gets his fill, head swimming and heart full.

"Yeah, me too, because I would have done all of this months ago."

Natsuo laughs, kissing you again. His brows knit together when he laps at another pinprick of blood on your lips, another sweet groan leaving him.

You taste as good as you smell and his instincts tell him that you've just given him a tiny taste of all you're willing to offer.

[noxturnalnymph]

Hi, Patti! I have a Q about Steve from Mutual 😳

What are his weekend habits like if Connie's not around? Does he jerk off? What does he use? Does he try to get some action?

Steve's weekend habits, you ask? I've had some THOTS about this...

(Can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the Mutual Universe)

Saturday Steve (809)

Steve Murphy Solo

So this particular Saturday Steve is home all alone. Connie flew to Miami for her sister’s baby shower last weekend and stayed all week to visit friends. He’s picking her up from the airport tomorrow and he’s looking forward to her return. Sure, Steve has a high sex drive and he takes care of himself often but fucking his wife is definitely something he doesn’t go a week without doing on a regular basis. He’s not one to be dramatic but he thinks he might be suffering a bit with her extended absence.

I like to think that on the weekends Steve spends time flipping through dirty magazines he keeps under the mattress. You know the ones, the magazines that he and Connie pretend she doesn’t know about but she’s the one who has to tuck them back under there everytime she makes the damn bed. She totally knows about them and she doesn’t even care, but Steve likes it better if they pretend they’re forbidden so she plays along cuz she’s a good wife.

But the dirty magazines aren’t the end game - oh no - they’re just the warm-up exercises. He doesn’t even touch himself when he looks at them, doesn’t even undo a single button on his jeans. He just lets himself get uncomfortably turned on, erection pressing against the denim, flipping through the well-worn pages and then, when he’s starting to feel the sweat forming across his chest, he tucks the magazines away. 

He lets himself stay in that glistening, heavy-breathed, semi-hard state the rest of the afternoon. His mind flashes back to the pictures when he starts to soften, getting aroused again, letting himself slowly leak out in his underwear, craving what he’s not giving himself. Denying himself that release. Because he knows the main event is yet to come and all this will make it so worth the build-up.

It isn’t until about 10pm that night, when Javi has brought home his “date” (that he paid for) and they’re getting down to business, that the show really starts. Despite the stifling heat of a spring Bogotá evening, Steve closes all the windows to reduce the street noise. He turns off all the fans, unplugs the fridge, and takes the battery out of the ticking wall clock. He peels his clothes off, laying them over a chair in the bedroom and goes out to the living room, positioning himself right above where he knows Javi’s couch is in the apartment below him.

He lays out his bath towel and sets down a glass of ice water and a tube of KY jelly, then lies himself down on his back on the parquet floor. Only once the moaning beneath him has begun does Steve let his hand close firmly around his dick, pumping his lubricated shaft with increasing pressure. It’s a game for him, a private game that only he knows about and only he can celebrate the wins for. Although - if you think about it - everybody in this situation wins, right?

This particular Saturday Steve has high hopes, he thinks he can hold out until the end, and come at the final climax (with Javi, if you will). He’s done this before and considers it the ultimate goal, the ‘big win’. But poor, pathetic Steve’s aspirations are misplaced. He’s teased himself too much today, been without Connie for too long. He can hear Javi grunting and hear the woman he’s jack-hammering himself into moaning in pleasure and Steve can’t even wait until the woman has her first orgasm before he’s a groaning, twitching, sticky mess.

---

The next day Steve and Connie arrive back home from the airport late-afternoon to find Javi returning from the grocery store at the same time, two paper bags stuffed full in his arms. Connie holds Javi’s door open for him while Steve carries her luggage up the stairs into their apartment. Connie joins him shortly after and says Javi invited them down for dinner, that she’s going to get cleaned up and they can head down to Javi’s shortly. Steve’s disappointment shows on his face and Connie moves towards him, both of them wrapping their arms around each other.

“I thought it would be nice not to have to cook my first night back home from my little vacation,” Connie says, tucking a piece of Steve’s hair back that fell forward onto his sweaty forehead.

“I thought it would be nice to have some time for just us, y’know, to catch up.” Steve replies, enunciating the last words so his meaning is obvious.

“I told Javi we’d need some time to catch up, and he told me that based on last night, he didn’t think it would take that long,” she says.

“He-”

“You must’ve told him how bad you were missing me, huh baby?” Connie asks.

“Yeah… something like that.”

.

[gummydummy19]

Hi Gummy😌❤️

since we're talking about kinktober...

How about Sherlock(Henry version) and semi-public sex (or something like voyeurism?)

I'm imagining Sherlock and reader (friends or lovers) are on a case when they are close to being discovered their true identities when Sherlock suggested that they could "make love" to fool the guards in (let's say) this brothel.

they could be faking it (till the vibe becomes too strong) or they are truly in love so they went at it anyway😋

Feel free to change or add to my lil thot😌❤️

OH GOODIE!! I love getting requests and I love love LOVE this idea!

Kinktober day 1: semi-public (Sherlock Holmes x F reader)

Moan

A/N: I must admit I don't really like voyeurism but I really loved the request so I hope I still did it justice <3

Content Warnings: smut, friends to lovers, "let them hear" trope, banter, giggles, fluff, swearing

You didn't have any family. The girls at the factory were your sisters, you all knew each other through and through. So when your friend Rosaly went missing, you knew she counted on you to discover the truth.

The entire country knew of Sherlock Holmes and his incredible detective skills. According to the papers, there wasn't a case he couldn't solve. So you scraped together nearly all your savings and traveled across the country to see him. Sadly, when you arrived at his office on a chilly autumn afternoon you were disappointed to find it empty. With nowhere else to go, you decided to wait it out.

Sherlock Holmes had always been quite the gentleman... and a handsome one at that. He arrived at his office somewhere in the afternoon. He wasn't usually this late, but he was stuck on a case and had indulged himself in one too many drinks the night before, leaving his body tired and his head hurting. However, his headache was quickly forgotten when he noticed a shivering young woman on his office's doorstep.

"Excuse me miss, can I help you?" he asked politely.

"O-oh...I'm s-so sorry...I'm...I n-need..." you shivered

Sherlock took off his big, long coat, wrapping it over your shoulders as he helped you up. "Hush now, little one. Let's get you inside first, shall we?"

Once inside he quickly lit a fire and offered you a hot cup of tea while you told him everything. He agreed to take up the case and after enduring a lot of your begging he agreed to let you join him too.

And thus your adventure with Sherlock began. He offered you the sofa in his office to sleep on and you kept the space tidy and clean for him in return. Surprisingly he found you worked quite well together. You were fearless and smart and on top of that, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

After nearly two weeks of working together, you were finally close to finding out where Rosaly was, through clues that she had left for you.

The puzzle pieces were finally falling together, all you needed was one more piece of information, and according to your last clue, this was where it was supposed to be.

"A brothel?!" You observed as you looked up at the tall building.

There were pink and red lights flowing through the half-closed windows you didn't dare to stare at for too long.

"This is the only address I can find according to those numbers. It has to be here." Sherlock stated.

You took a deep breath. Time to put on your big girl pants.

"Alright. Let's go then," you said, already starting to marsh forward

"Hold on there, little one." he pulled you back by your hips, "You are not coming in there with me."

"What would you have me do then? Stand out here in the dark all by myself?"

You had a good point.

"Fine, but you will do as I say. Understood?"

You rolled your eyes but agreed anyway, joining him as he made his way through the door.

"I need a room," he stated firmly.

"Mister Holmes! Of course!" The lady greeted him with a smile, "I'm sure you don't need an empty room, right?" She joked, "Shall I send up Elisabeth-"

"That won't be necessary." He interrupted quickly. You were sure he was hoping you hadn't caught that, but unfortunately, there was already a jealous twinge spreading in your stomach.

"I brought my own. Just the room will do," he added and then the lady looked you up and down, making a heat surge up your cheeks.

"Sure thing," she replied, looking through her keys, "Only the best for the country's best detective."

She shot you both a wink as she handed him the key and Sherlock quickly took your hand and led you upstairs.

"Go to the room and lock it. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What are you gonna do?" you asked, a bit worried

"I'll be right back." He repeated before closing the door behind him.

You did as he asked and locked it before silently taking a seat on the bed.

You looked around the room as you nervously toyed with your fingers. The sheets were soft and fluffy. You couldn't help but wonder which secrets they held. Which forbidden sights they had-

*knock knock knock*

You startled for a second until you heard his voice say "Open up..."

You rushed to the door and quickly let him in, locking it again behind him.

"I know where she is."

"What?" you asked, your brain still foggy for everything that was going on

"Rosaly. I know where she is. I know where to find her. We can be with her first thing tomorrow." he spoke again

"I..." You didn't know what to say, so you just did what felt right. You lunged forward and hugged him, whispering a couple "thank you's" as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He was about to say something when a loud knock startled you yet again.

"Everything okay in there?" a male voice yelled.

You looked at him in panic. They must have seen him wander around the place.

"Moan." He said

"W-what?"

"Moan," he repeated

"W-wha...like...like we're m-making love?"

"No, little one" he grinned, "like we're fucking."

You didn't have time to think as Sherlock Swirled you around and pushed you against the wall with a loud thud.

"Moan, NOW!" he growled.

"Ah!" you moaned, earning a grunt from him in response.

"Do it again, louder," he whispered.

"OH!" you moaned again, louder, just like he asked.

"There you go," he praised, "good girl." There was a grin plastered on his face that made you blush.

Two can play this game, you thought.

You pushed him backward making him fall on the bed, earning another loud groan from him as you crawled on his lap.

"Oh, Sherlock!" You moaned passionately, as your eyes fell shut and your hands found his chest "OH yes YES." you couldn't help but giggle at your own theatrics, making your body bounce a little.

You weren't paying enough attention to his face to notice that the grin had melted away the second you straddled him.

"Oh yeah right THERE, please!!!" you tried to contain your laughter when suddenly Sherlock flipped the both of you over making you gasp.

"YEAH? Feels that good?" his voice was lower now and you could feel his bulge press right between your thighs.

Suddenly...it wasn't so funny anymore.

"Cat got your tongue?" He whispered, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"I...I don't...I didn't..."

"Is it me that turned you into a stuttering mess or the fact that you're moaning for an audience?" He teased, pressing kisses down your neck to the swells of your breasts, currently threatening to spill out of your dress as your chest heaved underneath him.

"Sh-Sherlock..." you moaned, in earnest this time.

"Shush Sherlock? Do you wish to silence me, little one?" he grinned devilishly as his hands wandered under your dress, caressing your thighs.

"Oh....please..." you whimpered

"Now now, little one, I know you can be louder than that." he chuckled, fingers toying with your undergarments.

"I n-need..."

"Need what? Huh?" he ripped the fabrics in his way until he finally found what he was looking for. "Ah yes, needy you are indeed, as I have never felt a pussy quite as wet as this one..." he teased

"Come on, little one, tell me what you need."

"you..."

"louder..." he whispered lowly in your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it as he left little nibbles all over.

"you...YOU!"

"That's it!" he groaned as he lowered his pants, teasing your wet opening with the sticky tip of his cock.

"Tell them who's making you feel this good!"

"S-stop..."

"Want me to stop?" he smirked, knowing full well your sentence wasn't finished

'N-no! No, please just...AH FUCK!" you screamed as he entered you bare.

"There you go! Scream like the wanton little harlot you are!"

You didn't know if those words were meant just for you or for the men outside but in the moment you didn't care, as it made you squeeze his hard cock even harder.

"Sherlock! Please...please..." You didn't know what you were begging for, seeing as he was already seethed deep inside you, but somehow begging was all you could.

"Stop teasing..." you managed to get out. He loved how sweet and helpless you looked under him. How you managed to look so kind and innocent while he was balls deep inside you remained a mystery to him. Oh sweetheart..., he thought to himself

"....feels so fucking good..." he groaned, dropping down closer to you as he started to gently pump himself in and out of you.

"O-oh..." you moaned, tangling your fingers in his dark curls.

His hand hadn't left your face, while his other hand went on a mission to find the place where you were currently connected, somewhere between all those layers of fabric.

He tilted his hips, angling them to hit a spot inside you that made your eyes flutter, yet when his fingers finally reached their destination they shot open again.

"SHERLOCK!"

"That's right, princess. Let them know who's fucking you this good!"

He continued to pound into you, but despite his rough words, his actions were surprisingly gentle.

"M'gonna...gonna..." you keened, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

"What do you need, little one?" he groaned, clearly getting very close to the edge as well.

"Little harder...just a little..." you whined, quietly.

Sherlock obeyed, gently building up his thrusts until he was smacking into your pussy perfectly.

"That's right! Need it harder, huh?" he yelled out loudly again.

"YES YES HARDER" you played along before whispering "Kiss me, please..." Making not only his cock but also his heart swell.

He immediately pressed his lips down onto yours, swallowing your moans while his fingers kept strumming your sensitive pearl.

You came hard around his cock and kept pounding into your clenching pussy perfectly. Your left hand pulled at his hair while your other hand clawed at his back so hard his shirt ripped a little.

Your orgasm triggered his, and he let out a loud groan as he shuttered above you while spilling his hot seed deep inside your womb.

You both lay there, a little out of breath. Sherlock had his head buried in the crook of your neck, where started pressing gentle kisses while you played with his hair and traced invisible lines on his back.

That night you and Sherlock stumbled down the stairs of that brothel equally rosy-cheeked. You in your ripped-up dress, he in his torn shirt. You walked out hand in hand, two dozen pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of your skulls, but neither of you cared, for the passion glowing hot in your chests would outburn them all.

A/N: IM SORRY IF THIS WAS SHIT IM ON MY PERIOD AND IM JUST A BIG SAP IM SORRY I APOLOGIZE IM JUST A GIRL YOUR HONOR.

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