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picklehater101 · 9 months ago

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Mirror

summary: ellie x reader ~ ellie regrets not taking you up on an offer for a shower together so she decides to make it up to you shortly after

content warnings: swearing, smut n shiii

authors note: sorry for the long time no see, sexy people, that's my bad frrr! if ts doesn't make sense, don't even blame me... i had to whip something up real quick lolll

— ✩ —

Steam completely engulfs every one of your senses as soon as you step out of the cubicle, allowing you to realize just how hot your shower was.

You shut the glass door behind you, the towel holding onto the curves of your wet body as you make your way over to the foggy mirror.

The front of your legs meets the counter whilst you lift your hand to the blurred reflection, wiping a small portion of it in order to see yourself.

Your hair is still damp, ruffled and messy after attempting to rid of the water by using the towel moments before. Water droplets are still rolling down your body, glistening in the light above you.

As you run your fingers through your hair, you hear a couple of soft knocks before the voice speaks out. “Can I come in, baby?”

You give her a quick ‘yes’ as your eyes dart over to the opening door. A lot of the steam escapes the confined bathroom before Ellie shuts it behind her.

She slowly makes her way over to you, her eyes raking up and down your barely covered body, the small towel revealing a lot of skin.

A small smirk tugs at her lips, threatening to show as she comes up behind you, her hands immediately grasping onto your hips, your eyes meet her green ones in the cleared portion of the mirror.

Ellie is in a simple pair of gray sweats, the material hanging dangerously low on her hips. Her wife beater is pulled tight to her skin, her hardened nipples pressing into the cotton. It’s slightly lifted up, the bottom of her toned stomach peaking through, making your mouth water at the view.

She had a couple of things to do so she turned down your offer when you asked if she wanted to join you.

Regret quickly takes its form as she nuzzles her head into your neck, breathing in the soft smell of vanilla and coconut.

“You smell so pretty.” She smiles into your skin before pressing a soft kiss on your damp shoulder, her hands grabbing at your towel as if she’s eager to rip it off.

She continues her line of open mouth kisses, making her way over to your neck. You lull your head over, immediately opening up to her, giving her more space to nip at your skin.

She sucks into you, slowly rolling your skin in between her teeth as she leaves multiple purple bruises behind. Heavy breaths slip past your parted lips as her hands get more needy.

She makes her way up, moving closer to the sensitive spot just below your ear causing you to take your lip in between your teeth.

Ellie’s obsessed with kissing you, anywhere on your body, anytime, whenever, wherever. She just wants her lips on your skin, marking you up, makin’ you feel good. Anything.

Her eyes return to the mirror, noticing how little she can see you through the fogged mirror.

“I wanna see more of you.” She whispers, her voice raspy and low as she speaks into your ear. She finally manages to take the towel off of you, the cold air meeting your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Ellie briefly moves herself to the side of you and brings her large hand to the mirror, swiping over it to clear more space. This allows the both of you to see your naked, fragile body.

She smirks as she moves behind you once more, her hands quickly finding your body again as if you’re a magnet. Her calloused finger pads lightly brush over your stomach causing you to tense at the brief touch.

The way you react to her drives Ellie crazy, she loves seeing you squirm or melt in her hands like putty.

Her eyes wander over you, taking every inch of you in. Your soft skin, your full curves, your pretty face. "So beautiful.” She mutters, absolutely mesmerized.

Both of her hands make their way up to your perky breast, cupping around them as she softly gropes at them.

She takes one of your nipples in between her fingers, rolling it, pinching at it to have you moaning at the sensitivity.

She presses a kiss into your cheek as she watches herself play with you, the both of you amused, but mainly aroused.

“I fuckin love your tits, baby. They fit my hands so perfectly, ‘s like they were made for me.” She cheekily grins, before her eyes flutter up to yours.

You shake your head, softly chuckling at her silliness. However, your laugh slowly dies down as her lips meet your skin again.

“You were made for me.” She mumbles, her middle and ring finger grazing past your plump lips, teasing your bottom one as she waits for you to open. “‘N so was your tight little pussy. Always takes me so well, isn’t that right, mama?”

You nod your head with a moan before you oblige to her silent command, her fingers pushing their way into your mouth, allowing you to suck on them.

Your tongue swirls around her fingers, your cheeks hollowed out. A groan makes its way up Ellie’s throat, her darkened green eyes focused in on you and your subtle movements.

She slowly pulls them out of you, before her large hand heads towards your pussy.

The other hand that was resting on your tit slides down to your hip, her slim fingers wrapping around you. Ellie then uses her knee to push your legs further apart, giving her a bit more of an opening.

Both of your eyes follow her fingers. She first places them on your clit, causing you to flinch at the coolness placed on your heat.

She slowly rubs circles into you, the sensation sending pleasure filled waves throughout your body, goosebumps erupting across your skin at the feeling.

Her fingers slip a little further down catching some of your arousal, before bringing them back up to your clit, speeding up the motion of her fingers.

Moans continuously slip past your parted lips, “s-shit,” you whine quietly, your body tensing against her toned one.

After her fingers upkeep the continuous circling on your cunt she finally makes her way towards your opening, finding it fairly quickly. Without an ounce of hesitation, she shoves them inside of you, quickening her previous pace.

You let out a gasp as her fingers pump in and out of you, several moans crawling their way up your throat, pure bliss taking over the entirety of your body.

The both of you holding eye contact as she talks in your ear, a lopsided smile lifting up at the corner of her lips, “you like the way my fingers feel, baby? They always make you feel so good, hm?”

“God yes.” You breathlessly cry, nodding your head several times. You take your left hand and intertwine your fingers with Ellie’s, both of your hands now resting on your hip, whilst your other grasps her upper arm as she quickly moves in and out of you.

She subtly curls her fingers up, briefly doing it as a way to tease you, your pretty moans sounding like music to Ellie's ears. “I love the way you react to me.” She softly states, taking her lip in between her teeth as she watches your pussy take her fingers with ease.

She finally completely curls up, almost sending you overboard at the overwhelming feeling of your g-spot being brushed against. You throw your head back against her shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut.

Within seconds she rips her hand from yours on your hip, immediately grabbing your freshly bruised neck and tightening her hold as she forces you to look back at her in the foggy mirror.

“Nuh uh, I want you to watch what I do to you.” She demands, leaving her rough hands around me as she continues to pump her fingers.

“Fuck, look at you,” she starts, “look how beautiful you are.” Her eyes beginning to scan over your body again like she had done earlier, Ellie in awe as she stares at you.

“My beautiful girl,” She smiles, dipping her head down into your shoulder, “you’re a beautiful girl aren’t you, angel?” She questions, mumbling into your skin at the same time, her soft breath tickling you.

You only nod your head, not having the energy to talk as all your mind can focus on is the pleasure taking over your body.

“So let’s hear it.” She tilts her head, slowing her pace down as if she wants to torture you, wanting to prolong you from reaching your climax.

“I-I’m a beautiful girl.” You gently utter, your voice weakened by the brain fog, your body hot and sweaty as you still stand amongst the heat of your previous hot shower.

“Good girl.” She speaks into your ear, her voice low and needy, yet just as weakened as yours. She gets off on seeing you get off. Bringing you pleasure is the most pleasurable thing she could do for herself.

We have a moment of silence, tension looming in the air, as we stare at each other, both of us taking one another in.

“You’re perfect.” She mumbles, watching you to make sure you can grasp what she’s saying, she wants you to agree of course. Due to the immense feeling of having her fingers in you, you show the smallest bit of hesitation which has Ellie furrowing her eyebrows in.

“You know that right?” Pushing herself into you from behind, trapping you even closer to the counter, “that you’re the most perfect girl in the world?” She questions, the closer proximity of her body making your stomach flutter even more.

What you really wanna say is that no one is perfect and that you appreciate the kind-hearted compliment, but you obviously know that Ellie wouldn’t take that sort of response. All you wanna do is cum, so your first thought is to just nod again.

She now lets her grip on your throat go and she moves to take a handful of your wet hair, tugging at it roughly as she doesn’t like your response.

“You know I wanna hear those words come out of that pretty little mouth of yours. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Another moan pushes off your tongue at the soft pain radiating on your scalp as your trembly voice responds to her demands, “I’m perfect.” You state.

“And?” She softly tugs again, her slow pace driving you absolutely fucking crazy, your orgasm seconds from tipping over and crashing down.

“Pretty.” You whine, licking your bottom lip.

“Mhm, perfect and pretty, mama.” She agrees, letting go of your hair as she presses a kiss into your neck, “and I never wanna hear anything but that, you understand me?” She questions, making sure you know your worth.

“Y-Yes, now please.” You beg, beginning to feel tears brew at your waterline, the pleasure slowly turning into an irresistible ache that you so badly want to go away.

“Please what?” She taunts, her head tilted and her lust-filled eyes sparkling in the light. “What do you want from me, baby?”

“To cum!” You gasp out, “Please, please, please.” You repeat, only hoping that she’ll listen and finally let you release.

She now speeds up and curls her digits at the same time, the wet sounds of your pussy and the loud, sweet sounds of your moans bouncing off the walls of the small room.

“Let go, pretty girl. Give it to me.” She says, giving you mercy and allowing you to give in.

Seconds later a string of curses fall from your plump lips, along with her name and an array of moans, you cum. Your vision goes white, your body shaking as your orgasm flies through you, taking over every one of your senses.

After a few moments, you release a long held breath, relaxing your body, melting into her.

Ellie kisses your flushed cheek multiple times, slowly pulling her fingers out of you. She brings them up to her lips, sucking your arousal off of her fingers, your sweetness gliding over her tongue, delighting her taste buds.

The auburn-haired girl takes her fingers out of her mouth, grabbing your face to bring your lips together so you can taste yourself.

She hums in your mouth, content with your taste, pushing her tongue further into your mouth, needy for more. She dominates the kiss, you moaning at the combination of your taste and her lips on yours.

She pulls back, shaking her head, “I want more.” She states, grabbing at your hips as she easily spins you around, lifting you up so you’re sat on the counter.

She pushes your abdomen back before she grabs at the fat on your thighs, pulling you forward and closer to her.

Her dark eyes look into yours, a smirk spread on her face before her head dips down in between your legs to follow up with two more orgasms.

— ✩ —

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie william smut #smut #tlou #tlou2

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muletia · 2 months ago

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d-16 x human!reader pocket spouse au

this crumb was commissioned by very epic @savvymantis. thank you so much for commissioning me <3 <3

cw: none, pure fluff <3

The mechanical sound of fast-approaching footsteps pulls you away from scrolling through your miniature datapad, custom-made for former inhabitants of planet Earth. You don’t have to squint or get up from your open “room” mounted on your spouse’s recharge station to know who is coming. You’ve gone through this same scenario hundreds of times, and it has taken on a nearly domestic feeling — as if you are waiting for your husband to return from work. It has become a routine, though you still feel excitement seeing him after those few hours apart. Relief too, though that is correlated with occupational risk.

Soon, you see him emerge from the hallway, your spouse running far ahead of the other miners, whom you can’t even see yet. His gray faceplate seems to brighten when he sees you, the metal shifting like putty into joy — so clearly contagious you can’t help but wave at him gleefully, datapad forgotten. It is fun, and it can entertain you, but it can’t compete with the company of your spouse. Your D-16.

“Hi, Dee!” you call out as soon as he is close enough.

“Hi, [Name],” he replies, not one to leave you hanging. A large servo slides under the platform you call a room, inviting you aboard. And just like hundreds of times before, you accept the invitation, now safely wrapped in warm, careful digits.

“The usual place?” you ask, more for reassurance than out of curiosity.

“You’re really asking?” and his wide, warm smile melts your heart.

With his passenger in hand, he can’t risk running — too cautious to risk hurting you — but he keeps up a fast pace, glancing back over his shoulder again and again. He only focuses all his attention on you when he makes sure the swarm of miners doesn’t catch up, and that no one is following you two to your little hiding spot in the old warehouse.

“Orion spend the whole shift talking about hitting the city,” he sighs, stopping in front of broken mechanical doors, now completely dependent on the will and strength of whoever opens them, and slides his digits into the gap between the bottom of the doors and the floor. Then, with a single servo, he lifts them easily. “Of course, I tried to hammer it into that empty helm of his that it’s a terrible idea. That knowing him, he’ll zone out and be late for his shift, but he wouldn’t back down.” Dee steps inside and, again with one servo, pulls the door shut behind him, unintentionally feeding you nothing short of awe for his strength.

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, or fascinate you after so many months living among iron giants, but you can’t help noticing that Dee is a bit stronger than the other miners. Faster, more agile, the best in his sector. You can’t not admire him, can’t help but be enamored with who he is.

“Sometimes I just can’t deal with him,” he continues. “He’s going to get himself into trouble someday, I feel it! And guess who’ll be stuck saving his aft then, hah. Not me! Because I am definitely done risking my neck for bots with microchips instead of processors. No way. Not anymore.”

One quick glance from those extraordinary yellow optics, and you know he is talking about you. You are his reason.

Warmth spreads through your chest, and your heart involuntarily speeds up.

You wonder if Dee even realizes how sweet — yet dangerous to your heart — his wordplay can be.

Dee sits down on the floor, back against the wall, and places you on his knee, still holding his servo as close to you as possible. Digits wrap gently around your back, guarding you, making sure you won’t fall. Though you suspect the soft strokes across your back have more to do with his own pleasure than your safety; the softness of the human race still a source of fascination for Cybertronians. Especially miners, who still treat humans like a rare treasure. So you give him more of yourself and your softness, snuggling closer to the digits.

“And how is your day?” he asks with a warm, gentle voice. Any irritation from before can only be found with a microscope, and even then, probably not. But when your answer takes longer than usual, and the silence takes on an awkward tone, Dee adds worriedly, ��[Name]?”

“Sorry. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about how strong you are.”

A moment of silence. A second or two. Then the air is pierced by the soft hum of cooling fans.

Oh? He likes the sound of that, does he?

He blinks a few times, the digit on your back pausing, but when he manages to suppress the first wave of embarrassment, he asks:

“Where… where does that thought come from?”

“From the fact that you just opened those doors with one hand.”

Dee doesn’t seem to buy your explanation.

“Oh please, there’s nothing special about that. Bots with cogs are way stronger. I can’t even compare.”

“But I’m talking about you. About my strong spouse.”

Once again, you hear the whir of cooling fans in the ocean of awkward silence, but your attention focuses on his crumbling self-esteem. You want to mend it. Not fix it, because you know that won’t happen overnight, but show him that he deserves to hear something nice once in a while. That he deserves everything good.

“[Name], come on. If you want me to get you something from Iacon, just say the word.”

“You think I’d send my beautiful spouse into the city? And live in fear that other bots would turn their heads for such a handsome mech?”

Ah, now the humming moves front and center. Dee mulls your words over with an open intake, analyzing, searching for irony or an attempt to butter him up, but when his faceplate flushes a deep shade of blue, you know he believes you are sincere.

“Dee, you do know you’re pretty, right?” you continue, not giving him a break. “To me, the most beautiful in all of Iacon. Or you know what? All of Cybertron.”

D-16 covers his faceplate with a servo, clumsily trying to hide the blush. He turns his helm slightly to the side, avoiding eye contact, but your keen eyes track his every movement.

“D-don’t” A second passes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you mean it.”

“I do mean it, sweetspark.”

“S-sweetspark?!” The second servo joins the first. Oh, how you wish you could gently pull them away and see just how flustered he really is. “Primus, who… who taught you that?”

“Elita. But that’s not the point. Dee, could you look at me, please?”

He doesn’t grant your request immediately, and you don’t push, wanting to give him as much time as he needs. Until finally, through a tiny gap between the digits, a single optic peeks at you.

“I still don’t see my handsome mech…”

“Now you’re just messing with me…”

“Never, Dee. I would never. I’m being one hundred percent sincere. Not as your pocket spouse trying to butter you up or get something out of it. I want you to know how incredible and beautiful you are. I couldn’t imagine a better spouse. And I definitely couldn’t be matched with a better one!”

This time, his engines are running at full power. And you can feel it too, as your warm seat has now turned into a hot heating pad.

This time, Dee slowly pulls away the tightly pressed servos, revealing a faceplate completely soaked in blue. For a moment, he manages to maintain eye contact, but embarrassment wins out and his optics wander all around the storage room, just to avoid looking at you.

Adorable. He is all adorable, but you decide to keep that compliment to yourself, unsure how he’d react.

“Okay… thank you,” he says at last, returning to stroking your back. The blush still floods his faceplate, but this time Dee manages to look at you, inviting you two to exchange smiles.

And how can you pass on another chance to fluster him up?

“Have I told you yet that you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen?”

His servo flies back to his faceplate, but after the prolonged wail of your name, you know the compliment has reached his spark.

#muletia writes #transformers x reader #transformers x human #d-16 x reader #d 16 x reader #tfo x reader #pocket spouse au

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larcenywrites · 11 months ago

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My Little Animal

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Word count: ~2,400

A late night was normal around here, and a late night waiting up for Logan was hardly newsworthy. Neither were the heavier-than-usual drag of boots outside the door, nor the irritated huff after he closed the door a little too carefully.

Your eyes are drawn from the book in your lap to the larger man sitting on the end of the bed, back to you. Remaining silent, you watch him, his hand scratching through his beard and through the hair on the back of his neck. His tension is obvious in his movements, and more obvious in the tight muscles of his back as he pulls his white tank over his head, tossing it aside with a huff.

"Tough day?" You finally break the silence, trying not to let your tone hint at the longing in your eyes as you ogle.

"Always," he only replies gruffly, making you huff with an irritated amusement. You continue to eye him from your spot, deciding not to scold him this time for wearing his suit's yellow and blue pants on the bed. This time.

"I think you're just being dramatic," you softly tease, placing your book on the bedside table. With a disgruntled grunt of disagreement, Logan bends to work on getting his boots off, bare shoulders just inviting you to touch them. Shrugging the covers from your lap, you shuffle across the mattress to his seated form, eager to slide your palms over his heated skin. There's no reaction even when you nuzzle into his neck, the only sounds being the thump of boots being tossed aside and the rustling of fabric as he removes his pants. And those black boxer briefs didn't leave much to the imagination when he kicked the yellow and blue fabric aside, his flaccid bulge moving with his thigh.

You knew he could pick up your spike in arousal at the sight, and you could feel the elevation of his heartbeat when you hooked your arms under his to rest your hands on his chest. It was only when he felt your tongue on the shell of his ear that he finally reacted, a low growl vibrating through your hands and chest where you pressed against him.

That was really all you needed to know.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from his tense form. Instead, you roughly thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling more low rumbles from his chest. Like a grumpy ball of putty in your hands, he lets you push his head down, chin to chest. Just another little push, and he lowered himself, kneeling at the foot of the bed. He sighs heavily when you steal your touch from his hair, but it's far from one of relief. His cheek tilts your way as you shuffle over the sheets again, listening as you move back to the nightstand.

You can't hide anything from him. He knows which drawer you open. He knows what's in it. He knows what it means. Yet he still doesn't move when your hand pets over his neck. You could practically feel him bristling with excitement. For being so tense and stubborn, he always allows you to bind his neck with the collar. You wrap the brown nylon fabric around his throat with care, its gunmetal gray fastens jingling as you fix the buckle, keeping it loose just the way he likes it.

Wrapping a few fingers around the now-fitted collar, you carefully tug it up towards you, keeping his head down while your nails scratch over his scalp. Another soft growl makes you smile. Stepping off the bed next to his kneeling form, you drag his collar with you, the rough fabric sliding over his skin as you stand in front of him. You continue your petting, letting him adjust to his new headspace until he finally leans further into your grasp, nuzzling against your bare thigh and resting his cheek against your skin with a growly sigh.

"There's my little animal," you coo, tightening your grip on his hair and abruptly tugging the collar up, making him face up at you, your knuckles against his jaw. Logan's mouth parts in a silent moan, lip curled in a silent snarl. He narrowly eyes you through his lashes as your thumb pushes his bottom lip down and leans obediently into the rough petting on the side of his head. The pad of your thumb presses into the point of his fang and is met with his eager tongue, languidly lapping and swirling over the digit.

You take your hand from his hair to trace fingers over his lips, watching him close his eyes in ecstasy as he laps at your other fingers. Tongue and lips press against your palm in a sort of kiss before fangs gently bite into the soft flesh between your thumb and finger. You know they're just itching to get that tension out, and what better way than guiding that bite down to your thigh. He eagerly latches on, exploring the skin of your thigh with scraping fangs and long licks while bringing his hands to hold the backs of your thighs in a bruising grip.

You can't help but finally moan at his feral-ish nature, holding onto the back of his collar while threading through the thick curls on the back of his neck, encouraging more of those sharp nibbles and wet trails drifting closer to the inside of your thigh. He can't help but taste the softer skin beneath his tongue several times before sinking his teeth in just a bit harder, growling low in response to your moan.

Your grip on his hair tightens in surprise as he noses against your panty-covered clit, cheeks feeling flushed at the sound of him inhaling the scent of your arousal straight from the source. Fangs press ever-so-gently into your mound as his tongue finally meets your sensitive bud, swirling over the fabric and massaging deeply the more the mix of his saliva and your slick dampened the thin material that hardly kept you separated.

You desperately clench around nothing when he pulls back, teeth bringing your panties with him as his fingers tightly grip around the band and impatiently tear them from your legs with ease. There's no time to think about scolding him before your knee is forced onto his shoulder, falling into an awkward angle against him as his lips devour you again.

"Oh fuck, Logan," you sigh, only able to claw at his shoulders while firm hands pull you into him. His hot breath fans over your sensitive flesh as he practically pants, cleaning up the arousal pooled at your core and his nose bumping against your clit. The only noises in the room are your mixed panting and the crude lapping sounds from between your legs, supplemented by the low, warning growls every time the prickle of his beard causes you to twitch away. The same prickling friction that drags through your folds as his tongue meets your clit again, leaving your legs trembling in his grasp with every swipe. He knows you're close-- he can smell it, hear it in your whimperish panting, feel it in the way you try to grind on his tongue. It only spurs him on, tilting his head against your thigh as if to settle in while he pushes you closer to the edge.

It isn't long before your nails dig into his hair and pull him closer, and your legs awkwardly tensing and closing against him as you finally come on his tongue. He laps deeply at your over-sensitive bud several more times to ride you through it before attacking your entrance again, drinking your essence like a starved animal. Every brush of his beard and nuzzle against your clit becomes far too much to keep handling as he continues, but there's no escape from his grip on you. Wrapping your hand around the collar, you try to tug him away, only met with a deep rumble that borders between a growl and a moan, hot breath fanning over your core again. He was as stubborn as he was greedy, knowing well that he was far too strong for you to pull him away, especially from between your legs. Maybe he even enjoyed the rough material of his collar threatening to choke him.

"Logan, please," you plead breathily, thumbs hooked around the collar. As if to make a point, he deeply laps at you several more times before turning to sink his fangs into your thigh in aggravated obedience with a low growl that gently rumbles against your skin. He keeps his teeth in your leg even while you lower your knee from his shoulder and holds onto you while you recover for the moment. But only for a moment.

The sharp prick of fangs finally leaves your thigh, only for them to brush across your tummy with a wet lick as he nuzzles under your shirt. Your fingers brush over the tense hands that grip your thighs, feeling those claws flex beneath his skin, naturally responding to their owner's pent-up emotion and energy in the only way they ever knew how. He's obviously still unsatisfied, raging to let loose. You're jolted from that thought as he bites into the soft side of your waist, licking over his bite in a soothing way. Helping him out, you slip your shirt over your head, tossing it aside like every other piece of clothing. Without a word, he gets to his feet, taking it as his cue to lick his way between your breasts and into the crook of your neck.

He roughly pulls your hips flush to his, his chest practically heaving from the deep inhale he takes from where he stays buried in your neck. He's never been one for subtleties, especially not when those hips start to hungrily rut into yours, and his hard-on, hardly hidden in his briefs, is straining for attention. Grinding with him, you hook your thumb beneath the burlap brown band as your fingers tangle through the dark locks of hair on the back of his neck.

"You're not very good at this taming thing," he finally breaks his silence with a cocky grumble, pressing his lips to your cheek. At his comment, your hand wraps around the front of his collar again, knuckles to his throat.

"Good thing I don't want to tame you," you softly sass back, turning to meet his lips and tracing them with your tongue. He shows off his fangs with a low growl, grip tightening on your thighs before he roughly hoists you up to wrap around his waist. It's only seconds for him to spin around and plant your back on the bed, his much heavier form coming down with you, wasting no time to ravish your throat with sloppy kisses and lovebites.

You can only tilt your head back and moan softly to the ceiling, much to his purr of approval as he continues his assault, even while awkwardly shuffling between your legs to rid his too-tight boxers. You know he's finally done it when the heat of his cock presses at your entrance and a hand pushes a thigh aside to give him more room to work with. Despite still being soaked from your romp just minutes ago, he's still not the easiest fit when he pushes into you, mirroring you with lips parted in a silent moan and eyes screwed shut. Even with the sting of your nails in his bicep, he keeps sinking into you, giving you no time to adjust to the pleasurable burn of him filling you to the brim.

Cock sitting heavy against your cervix, Logan grinds you into the mattress, nestling back into your neck tongue first. Muscular arms cage your legs against his hips and his fists wrap into the sheets as he instantly ruts into you like an animal in heat. Once again, the only sounds filling the room are whimperish moans and heavy panting being outshined by the lewdness of how wet each thrust of his cock and each slap of his balls sounds against your soaked heat.

Hot breath fans over your skin with a low rumble when you pull at his hair, the growl vibrating from his chest through yours and only adding to the growing tension in your core. He lifts himself when you tense around him, bowed up above you as if in concentration and chest heaving with his wild panting. You look up at him through your lashes, a few dark strands hanging over his forehead and loose collar hanging over his collarbones. The sight alone could send you close to the edge, already throbbing around him, but you needed him close again.

Dark eyes flicker to you at the feel of your hand on his chest, playing through the thick body hair there before wrapping around the burlap brown band hanging from his throat. He obediently lets you pull him down with the little strength you have left, his own hips faltering as you pull his face into your chest. He moans low, tongue lolling against your skin as he picks up the pace again, hips stiff and fists tight around the sheets. He's just as close as you are, but his deep and well-aimed thrusts are determined to get you there first.

He can smell it, hear the soft whines from your chest and feel your legs squirm under his arms, and groans deeply at how tightly you clench around his cock and hold his face to your chest as you come around him. His steady pace finally slows, stilling as deep as he can within you and cumming with a low growl. He keeps you caged and pressed into the mattress, panting hotly against you. Your fingers gently play with his hair while you come down, other hand still holding onto the collar while he gently nuzzles and rubs his face between your breasts, as if you didn't already smell like every part of him.

After several moments, he finally lifts himself from you, pulling out from your messy core and wasting no time going down on you, savoring the mixed scents of your essences and greedily cleaning you up. With a gasped-out moan, you tug desperately at his hair, only being answered with that possessive growl that means he isn't letting you go anytime soon.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #wolverine imagines #wolverine one shot #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett imagine #x men #x men x reader #x men smut #marvel smut #marvel #marvel x reader

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benz12313 · 5 months ago

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Delirium - Ridoc x Reader 🌶️

{Images are not my own}

Summary: You and Ridoc have been dancing around each other for months, just on the cusp of becoming something more. All it takes is a rough week and a bit of liquor to have you become putty in his hands, and he's been dying for the chance to carry you to his bed. Too bad you guys don't quiiite make it there, at least this time... ;) [Takes place during Iron Flame]

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, thigh riding, hinting at feelings, swearing, fem!reader, drunkenness/alcohol use

Part 2/3 - Part 3/3

Authors Note: I am absolutely living for goofy, sexy Ridoc in this fic. Is this totally a self-serving fic? Absolutely. Do I still hope you enjoy it? Also absolutely. This is my first attempt at smut so bare with me, I'm easing into it. Also I got a little carried away, and will have to break this into three parts...sssooorrry.

Word Count: 2,093

Alcohol coarsed in my veins, the music in the bar was blaring, and my friend’s bodies pressed in on me. Rhiannon and Tara danced in front of me, bumping into me occasionally, yet obviously lost in each other. Sawyer was close too, nursing a beer and dancing with his eyes closed, probably imagining Jesinia by his side. And then Ridoc… Ridoc was behind me, one hand resting seemingly innocently on my waist, setting my entire body aflame.

Maybe it was the pressure of looming change. Maybe it was the grueling week of classes. Maybe it was the math test I’d failed. Maybe it was the sore muscles from Fayla pushing me during flight maneuvers. All I knew was that when I’d entered the bar that night, my mission was to release every ounce of tension in my body, get absolutely tanked, find someone to warm my bed, and absolutely lose myself to the night.

And who had been so achingly close to me all night? Who’d been shooting flirty winks and sultry smiles the moment our friends would glance away? Who’s hands had been roaming my thighs under the table as I’d been forced to sit on his lap so all our friends could fit into the booth and socialize? Hands that had pulled and massaged and pinched; but never moving to where I so desperately wanted him to? Always so close to crossing that line, but never quite taking the plunge.

Ridoc fucking Gamlyn. That’s who.

The man I’d been dancing around for weeks, toeing dangerously between friends and bedmates. Countless study sessions where he’d huddle a little too closely while leaning over my shoulder. Mouth dangerously close to my neck as he’d stare at my notes, feigning idiocy when we both knew he was much smarter than he let on. Or on the mat, when I’d get him pinned, dagger pressed to his throat, my own aching for air but so deliciously proud of myself as his eyes would be glued to my rapidly rising and falling chest, letting out a garbled “I yield.” as I’d feel him stiffen below me.

My personal favorite was just a few days ago, when I’d run into him after he’d just finished showering after a long training session with the rest of the squad.

His curls sticking to his forehead, still dripping, the beads of water trailing down his chest. I shamelessly watched them go down his sculpted abs, silently reminding myself to thank Dane for all the extra training sessions he’d been ordering lately, because it was obviously doing wonders for Ridoc. I’d been just about to drop to my knees and lick them off myself, and then maybe, maybe get a peak at what he was hiding under those gray sweats, when Sawyer had come around the corner, calling after Ridoc to wait up. He hadn’t even seen me, but my eyes flashed to Ridoc’s, and he’d given me a sultry smile, exactly like the ones he’d shoot his conquests before dragging them into his room. “Looks like we’ll have to wait some other time Princess.” He’d muttered just loud enough for me to hear before Sawyer saw me, and I innocently waved them off, heading to the showers like I’d originally planned. It didn’t matter how deftly my fingers worked beneath the steaming water, the orgasm that followed fell flat, my body coiled and aching for Ridoc.

Gods, Ridoc had taken up way too many of my frustrated fantasies lately. Much more than any friend should.

“Hey Princess, want more shots?” His voice was rough and low, breath fanning on my ear, his hand flexing on my waist, the pressure of his giant hand so deliciously grounding amongst the crowd and music.

“Fuck yes!” I called back, turning in his arms and playfully pushing his chest back, towards where the bar awaited us.

He grinned widely down at me, before removing his hand from my waist, using it to grab the hand that still rested on his chest, threading our fingers together as he shot me a wink. He turned without warning, making a path through the crowd, which I eagerly followed him through. In moments or minutes, I was too drunk to tell, we’d made it to the crowded bar and Ridoc pulled me closer to him, my hands now braced to his chest as he pushed forward, trapping me between him and the bar.

“Same as before Y/L/N?” He shot the question down to me, eyes following the bartender as he took the orders from those around us.

I reached onto my tiptoes, the corner of my mouth brushing his jaw, mostly unintentionally as I lightly swayed. “Yes please.” I said sweetly and he gulped, my eyes flashing to his adams apple as it bobbed, suddenly stopping myself from running my tongue across his entire damn throat.

His hands tightened on my waist, jerking me closer to him, “If you don’t stop looking at me like that Y/N,” His voice a downright growl, making me instantly soaked, “We won’t make it to my room tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Across the bar Sawyer, Violet, Rhiannon, Tara, and the first years all stared at Ridoc and you, practically eye-fucking each other as you downed another two shots. The two of you had had way too many to count already, the both of you clinging to each other, not only because you couldn’t seem to stop touching each other as the night trailed on, but because the two of you needed the other’s support to stand straight.

“Should we…be stopping this?” Rhiannon asked the others as you giggled at something Ridoc had whispered in your ear, head flopping onto his shoulder, delight covering your face.

“And put an end to their months of pining after each other? No way.” Violet grumbled.

“Seriously.” Sawyer agreed, “If I have to hear about one more boner that Y/N has given Ridoc I’m going to have to chop off my own ears.”

“Just let them get it out of their system,” Tara says, giving Rhiannon a quick peck on the lips. “Either they’ll be back to normal in the morning, or they’ll finally do something about their feelings. Either way, no need to butt in where we don’t belong.”

“I suppose,” The squad leader relented, but when she’d looked up to check on the two of you, you’d both disappeared from the bar. “How’d they move that fast?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ridoc..” My voice was nothing more than a breathy sigh as his eyes raked over me, his arms rested on either side of my head on the cold, hard wall of the back of the tavern. He groaned, hands balling into fists as he pressed his thigh between my legs, giving me delicious pressure that had me whimpering and sliding my hands under his loose black tee. Just utterly aching for my skin to touch his. He was burning to the touch, and the moment my fingertips touched his abs he groaned, head sinking to rest on my neck and his hands gripping my waist, roughly pulling me forward to grind my clothed core on his thigh some more.

“Y/N,” he moaned out, tongue lazily tasting my collarbone, before his breaths shakily fanned across my neck. “Fuck, Princess, why do you smell so fucking good. Makes it impossible to-” I moaned loudly as I threw my head back, the constant pressure from his thigh making pleasure coil tighter and tighter in my tummy, and he let out the most tortured fucking groan. “Fuck that, why do those pretty little moans of yours have to drive me so fucking insane?”

“R-ridoc-“ I gasped out barely able to think (let alone speak) beyond the pleasure his thigh alone was giving me. It was too much yet not enough all at once, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. Gods was I too fucking out of it to even tell him what I wanted? What I needed from him?

“Hmm?” He hummed at me, pulling back and eyes scanning my face before he grinned, teasing and lighthearted, as one hand moved to my head, threading into my loose hair. And then he was fisting it, pulling my head back to expose my throat as his eyes scanned my whimpering form, not needing his hands anymore as I desperately chased my high on his thigh. “Gods, I wish you could see yourself Y/N, looking so desperate and needy for me. Riding my thigh like you fucking own it.” I whined as he adjusted his leg, unintentionally bouncing me on it, and a wanton moan erupting out of me at the jolt of pleasure. He grinned maniacally.

“Ohhhh,” he was teasing now as his mouth dropped to my throat, licking from collarbone to chin, groaning before pulling back and meeting my gaze with an intensity that nearly had me cumming then and there. “Is that what you wanted Baby? You wanted me to bounce your pretty little cunt on my thigh? Let the first time you cum for me be behind a fucking tavern, fully fucking clothed? Can’t even wait till we get back to Basgaith?”

“P-p-please.” I whispered, pleaded really, and his eyebrows raised, absolute delight covering his face as he froze for a moment before starting to slowly bounce his knee.

“Well fuck Y/N, how the hell am I supposed to deny you when you ask so prettily?” Pleasure coursed through me, as I removed my hands from where they’d been desperately holding onto his torso. I threaded them into his soft locks, pulling him forward, or trying to as he was currently devouring my neck and collarbone, biting and sucking and surely leaving marks to remind us of everything we had done in the morning. As if I could ever forget any second of this. It didn’t matter how many drinks I had had, Ridoc had brought me past being drunk. He’d sent me into absolute delirium, where all that mattered were me, him, and my fast approaching orgasm.

“Ridocccc” I whined, the coil in my stomach threatening to burst, “I want-“ I panted and he groaned. “Fuck! Will you fucking kiss me already?!” I finally burst out and he laughed, hollow and short, nipping across my jaw playfully.

“Sure thing beautiful,” He tilted his head, and smashed his mouth to my own as sparks danced in my vision and that coil finally snapped, white light and stars blocking my sight as I let him absolutely consume me. I was shaking, and whining, with my fingers digging into his scalp as our tongues danced skillfully with each other and I pressed my entire body as close to his as I could get. Like we’d been here a thousand times and we were just settling in, coming home after being apart for millennium.

As I came down from my high my movements slowed, drinking in the moment, as his hand left my hair, and slid gently back down to my waist. He gently set me down back on flat ground, everything spinning now that he wasn’t holding me steady.

Our kisses slowed too, until he was just lightly pecking me, not really wanting to leave my mouth, not now that he had finally gotten to claim it for himself. He sighed, resting his forehead on mine, dorky grin spreading across his face and eyes shining with unfiltered male pride. “Ya know, I always knew you were secretly depraved, but I never imagined you’d be this fucking needy for me. What wouldn’t you let me do to you, sweet Y/N?”

“Hmm?” I teased, lightly tapping my chin, his eyes following every movement. “How about you get me to your room, and I show you, every, single, thing, I will let you do to me?”

“Fuck, alright.” He chuckles, “Gods, you’re perfect for me you know?” The confession was raw, and I could see the sentiment in his eyes, but my drunken self wasn’t ready to confront that right now, not when my need was beginning to cloud my reasoning again and liquor burned through my veins.

“Get me back to your room Gamlyn, before we won’t be able to make it back without enlisting help. That’d be embarrassing.” I joked and he laughed, boisterous and loud and so perfectly him that it made my heart ache.

“Yeah it would, Sawyer would really be sick of me then.” He laughed, stepping back and grabbing my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Lets go Princess, to my room we fly!”

#ridoc smut #ridoc x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #iron flame #smut with feelings #goofy smut #ridoc iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm

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bruisedboys · 1 year ago

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sejanus plinth x fem!reader | sejanus is a helpless romantic, you’re totally shy under his affections, but he just can’t help himself!

implied shy!reader, coryo being a menace but in a playful way, sejanus being a tease, kissing, so much fluff!!!!

Coriolanus watches you and Sejanus with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “They’re gross.”

Lucy Gray laughs, up to her knees in the long, soft grass.

“Don’t be mean, Coriolanus,” she chides, digging her elbow into his ribs. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Coriolanus huffs, incredulous. “He looks like he’s about to eat her.”

Truth be told, Sejanus does look a bit like he wants to eat you. In the most romantic way possible, of course. You’re both sitting on the pier over the lake, and he’s got you in his lap, your knees caged on either side of his hips, his face so close to yours you’re almost kissing. He thumbs at your collarbone, fingers curled over your bare shoulder, hands warm on your sunkissed skin, gazing at you like you’ve been threaded with pure gold. The lake sloshes softly beneath you.

You peek over Sejanus’ shoulder, buzzing with fondness. “They’re looking at us.”

“Who?” Sejanus asks, distracted by the way you shudder under his touch. He thinks it’s sickeningly cute, how shy you are. “Coryo, huh? Don’t worry, honey. He’s just jealous.”

Honey? Heat creeps up your neck at an alarming rate. Any more of this and you’ll melt in a lovesick puddle. The pet name plays in your head over and over like a broken record. Honey, honey, honey.

“Jealous?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t seem to think straight when he’s got you this close. His hands on your skin, his thighs firm under yours. You glance over his shoulder again, self conscious.

“Mhm.” Sejanus brings a hand to your jaw and tilts your head in his direction with two fingers, forcing your gaze away from your friends. “‘Cause you’re so pretty,” he explains, voice like melted sugar. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

You fear you’ll go up in flames. You hide your burning face by dropping it to his shoulder, shy and so so in love with him. Sejanus laughs softly, soaked through in fondness, and rubs your back with a big warm hand. Your spaghetti strap top means his palm graces a slice of exposed skin at the top of your back, and pleasured goosebumps erupt in his wake.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting your ear, so close he’s almost kissing it. He sweeps his hand up your back and then down again. “C’mon, come back out. I want to look at you.”

He pulls back slightly and gets a hand under your chin to encourage you up. You’re putty in his hands, surprising yourself at how quickly you oblige, how quick you are to do what he wants. He waits patiently for you to meet his gaze and once you do, you find your own feelings of overbearing fondness reflected back at you. His pretty eyes are pools of love, the honey sun painting them the colour of browned butter. You like him so much you could suffocate in it.

Sejanus grins at you, cheeks dimpling. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. His hand lingers at your throat.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and much too eager but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You don’t have to ask, Sej.”

Sejanus hums before capturing your mouth in a swift kiss. You breathe him in and curl your hand around his neck, breathing in his scent of pine and firewood, something sweeter, like caramel. Your fingers brush over the short hair at the nape of his neck. He’s told you he used to have curly hair, and as much as you like imagining him with his curls, you like his buzzed hair just as much. He’s so handsome he doesn’t need curls, anyway.

Sejanus brings his hand to your waist and tugs you closer, desperate and greedy but never rough. You go happily, kissing him back with as much earnest as you can manage, pushing up onto your knees in your desperation to be closer still. You get lost, forget where you are, like you tend to do when you’re with Sejanus.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is fake gagging into the grass.

“You agree that’s a bit excessive, right?” He asks Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray just rolls her eyes. “You’re dramatic. They’re in love.”

Coryo scoffs. “Couldn’t they be in love somewhere else?”

Lucy Gray watches as you pull away from Sejanus and start giggling like a lovesick fool, while he tries to coax you back into another kiss.

No, she thinks. Not gonna happen.

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covetyou · 1 year ago

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when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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decadeofjoy-au · 3 months ago

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After getting 8 results(Misspelled Stretchy Squeezers)

#the decade of joy au #poppy playtime au #ppt au #poppy playtime ask blog #poppy playtime #poppy playtime oc #ppt oc #TDOJ Clarance The Clayman #TDOJ Buddy Putty #TDOJ Silly The Slime Snake(Sweatycowboyqueen)#TDOJ Terra(Anewbieartist356)#TDOJ Doris(Anewbieartist356)#TDOJ Gray The Gooman(Icanexplainwhythisnameisbad)#doey ppt #poppy playtime doey

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necrolog1st · 23 days ago

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HEADCANONS/SKETCHES with IVAN/gn!reader

Fandom: ALIEN STAGE

Warning: from comfort to angst, unrequited feelings, bad english, Ivan's possibly non-canonical behavior.

First meeting...

As a child, Ivan seemed to dissolve in the shadows. A quiet, pale, alien boy. He never shouted, never argued, never laughed, only looked with those lifeless eyes. Having once lived in the slums, he did not know what a social norm was. It was as if he had been thrown into this world from another, dark and cold, without any explanation. Children were playing around. The warm light of artificial color contrasted sharply with it. He stood to the side, not as an observer, but as a mistake in a painting.

His black, oil-like eyes seemed to absorb the light. Under them, tired round shadows, too noticeable for his age. A smile never appeared, and there was no room for one. His lips were always closed, the corners of his mouth were down. In his gaze, you could feel not something, but nothing. Emptiness. Thick, sticky.

However, he was not stupid. On the contrary, he was witty and observant. He silently absorbed what was happening around him, watched other children laugh and cry, hug, quarrel, make up. He tried to repeat, not the feelings, but their movements. Hands, facial expressions, phrases. Not knowing why. Not understanding why, why people need all this, if it does not bring anything. At that time, he was still learning about himself, so it seemed that no one had particularly noticed this little red-haired prince.

However, while no one noticed him, he noticed you. You were running on the artificial grass then, the wind clung to your bulging clothes. And at that very moment, when your glances crossed unconsciously, fleetingly. Something trembled in his black eyes, the red pupils dilated. Like a spark at the bottom of a dry well.

After that, you seemed to have forgotten about him. Maybe you didn’t even remember at all. You didn't know each other, you just crossed paths in the garden and sometimes during classes. At the same time, something was drawing him.to you, so he instinctively tracked you down. Ivan began to notice you more often. He watched you surreptitiously, like a living mystery. You could just sit by a tree with a book or sort through flowers, and he, hiding in the shadows, watched. Studied. He didn't understand what was bad about it, what was good, he just felt the attraction. You became something for him... correct, quiet but in moderation. You smiled when circumstances required it. You had your own charisma. You seemed ideal to him.

This could go on forever. Unspoken, unnoticed, like a shadow that follows the light.

You sat under a tree, curled up in a ball, as if trying to hide from the world itself. Knees pressed to the chest, fingers slowly turning the pages, gaze moving along the lines, absorbing someone else's story, to distract himself from his own for a while. Ivan sat behind the nearest tree, quietly looking out and looking at you, as if he had grown in with his feet, putting down roots. He watched - silently, hesitantly.

As if he was freezing, so as not to frighten the moment. In this garden, everything was alien and artificial for him. The air was dry, like in a box without cracks in which you cannot inhale or exhale. Everything seemed alien, artificial, folk. But you... you were like a spot of living color in a burnt landscape. Like a stroke of real paint on gray putty. In his landscape, you were a bright point among the brushstrokes. Ivan sat for a long time, almost without blinking, his eyes stung, but he did not look away. He picked up something from you, when he saw you reading book after book, he started too, which really helped him understand the unspoken feelings of people.

- Who are you..? Are you a spy? - your quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts. You lowered the book, your gaze still fixed on the motionless shadow behind the tree. His face was hidden by darkness, but you almost felt - he was listening. Ivan shuddered slightly at your words, as if he did not expect them. You had guessed for a long time: someone was watching you. You just did not have the courage to say it out loud. Now the fear retreated, leaving room for curiosity.

Ivan was silent. Not because he wanted to seem mysterious - he simply did not know what words would be appropriate. Everything inside him froze at the mere sound of your voice.

- Are you following me? - you tried to hide the slight tremor in your voice.

Ivan froze, almost slightly bowing his head and whispered with some strange, almost bookish dignity.

- If you say so... Maybe I really did come for your heart. - Everything reminded him of a clipping from a fairy tale he had recently read. Ivan smiled slightly, you could see his fang. You blinked, either from surprise or from the sudden warmth in your heart.

— And I will go crazy because of this, right? - there was no seriousness in your voice, but there was a strange warmth. The voice was quiet as a cradle.

- It would be very unfair of me to drive such young gentle soul.

And then you laughed, low and warm, as if ice had broken. Ivan, for the first time in a long time, felt a strange crunch in his chest, a heartbeat and immeasurable happiness.

— Then, if it’s not too much trouble, let’s read together?

Ivan sat down next to you. Not too close, but close enough to feel your presence. His shoulders relaxed a little. He leaned forward, his gaze sliding over the lines, as if he were actually reading — but most of all, at that moment, he was listening to the silence, your breathing to the feeling and warmth that spread through your chest.

Awareness of feelings. . .

Since then, you and Ivan have become inseparable, like two pages of one book. Reading was still your quiet peace, as it was on the first day you met, day after day, under the rustle of grass, the laughter of children and the rustle of thin pages. Before, you were the one who started the conversation. You asked how he understood the plot, what the hero was feeling. And sometimes you were simply interested in his day, asked what good had happened. Even then, you understood that Anakt Garden was not paradise at all, and beyond it, even less so. Therefore, you quickly read Ivan between the lines, realizing that the owners were clearly not the kindest aliens.

Before morning classes, you went to the pond and taught him facial expressions. He curled his lips, raised his eyebrows, studied emotions. It was funny for him to watch how his usually impassive face would suddenly show a smile, surprise, a slight hint of irritation. And you, unable to resist, would start tickling him until he broke into a quiet laugh, and he also learned to laugh.

You shared with him the goodies from your lunch; as it soon turned out, Ivan had an insatiable sweet tooth. He accepted the treats politely, but each time his eyes sparkled, as if you had handed him a treasure.

Gradually, he ceased to be a black spot. He nodded politely to the teachers, held himself upright, looked almost flawless, and because of this, many people thought he was unattainable. But you knew that behind the external composure, the same boy with the emptiness in his eyes was still hiding, which was now filled with color - little by little, every time he was near you.

You remained his favorite place to relax, in the most literal sense of the word. After training, he would sit down next to you, press himself against you, as if you were not a person, but the only safe place in the whole world. Over time, he grew up, and now he would lean heavily on you with his whole body, and then you would complain that your legs would fall off. In response, Ivan would only chuckle, closing his eyes - slyly and contentedly.

Tactility with you became something self-evident for him. In the garden, they were not taught how to properly show affection, so Ivan did everything at his own discretion. Are you sitting? He is already on your shoulder. Are you eating? He is nearby, he will definitely offer you a piece of his dessert, and if you accept, he will shine like a child. In your presence, he did not play a role. He just was.

However, Ivan's love is strange and twisted, like a mirror in a crooked hall. It defies explanation and therefore frightens others, causes misunderstanding, alienation. Ivan himself did not try to look into it, he was afraid that there, in the depths, he would find nothing but emptiness. His feelings were a mystery to him, a puzzle that he carried with him all his life and did not know if he wanted to solve.

His love - with fragile hope and almost no chance. It seemed that there were only five steps between you, but you did not want to take a step because you did not feel the same as he did. From the very beginning, Ivan knew that everything you felt was pure and friendly, you yourself said so. The space between you is not an obstacle, but still insurmountable. And therefore Ivan did not take steps, he simply lived nearby, carefully, almost reverently living every moment, as if it could be the last. He remembered everything. Your movements, the moles on your shoulders, the way you wrinkled your nose when you were upset. He remembered what touches made you shudder with rejection, and what touches made you smile quietly. He loved to ride you on his back, and make sharp turns so that you would cuddle him tighter. He kept this knowledge as the most precious.

Most of all, he loved it when you sang. Alone - your voice sounded to him like the voice of an angel, too pure to be real. And when you sang together - Ivan was almost sure that he was touching something real, alive and warm, something he had never had before.

He did not talk about love. Not because he did not feel it, but because he did not know how to name what was inside. He just looked. Listened. Remembered.

Confession. . .

It happened almost naturally. Both of you were almost finishing your studies at Anakt Garden. Ivan became an outstanding student, he was even interviewed. "Minimum risk, maximum result" - that's how the aliens described him. He would hardly miss these walls, the sterile grass and artificial trees, but he would definitely miss the days spent together with you.

He lay next to you, his back buried in the soft grass. You were silent, but this silence was not oppressive, it was almost soft, as if all the unspoken confessions sounded in it. The silence stretched, caressing, enveloping, as if the air became thick with something too personal. And at some point, he carefully covered your palm with his. Your fingers slowly intertwined. He knew. He felt - you did not share the same, did not hold his hand with the same tremor of hope. But he still wanted to be close, at least like this.

You both looked lovingly, only he at you, and you not at him.

“I love you,” he said quietly, confidently. Not as a confession, but as a truth that he evendidn't hide. The words flew from his lips intuitively, almost by accident, but too honestly to take them back.

You didn't turn around, didn't pull your hands away from his soft grip. You just took a little deeper breath. There were stars in your eyes, and heaviness in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you answered. Softly. As if you were touching a wound, trying not to make it hurt more. No trembling, no dryness, only sincere sympathy. If you could, you would love him more than anything in the world. Ivan didn't pull his hand away. He didn't cry. He just squeezed his fingers a little tighter - as if that could hold anything. He wasn't offended, because he knew. He always knew.

You both continued to lie in the grass. Only now the stars were a little dimmer. And your hearts were a little quieter.

You carefully slipped out of his hand. Not harshly, not offensively, just as if you were letting go of something too precious to hold. You pulled your legs up, sat down, as if trying to weigh all the pros and cons. Then — you stood up. stretched whole bodies until their bones crunched. The silence did not tremble, did not break, it was too tired to resist. Ivan, without taking his eyes off, was about to follow you. But you turned around before he took a step.

“You know… they say that if you see someone off goodbye, they will disappear forever,” you said, with a half-smile, light, almost childish. As if you were trying to defuse the atmosphere, although everything inside was burning.

He froze, only after a moment understood. But not right away. He smiled with the corner of his lips, baring a fang, familiar, in its own way warm.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said. Almost with admiration, almost with pain. As if trying to remain a naive boy who had not yet realized that you were leaving. Not for a day. Not for a month. Forever. So as not to hurt either him or yourself.

“Close your eyes. Until I disappear,” you asked. Almost in a whisper. Almost to yourself.

He obeyed. Closed them.

The steps were light, unhurried. As if you did not want to disturb even the air. He heard you leaving, clenching his teeth from the silent scream in his throat. But he did not dare to even breathe. He remained standing with his eyes closed even when the steps died down. Because he knew that if he opened them, he would have to admit that you really were gone.

Among the parting words left by other children in Anakt Garden, he found an inscription. Yours.

“Thank you. I am your only satellite. If it gets too dark, just look back. I am always near.”

At that moment, he quietly looked at Mizi and Sua. He used to think that he and Sua were similar. They lived almost the same. But looking at the happiness and reciprocity, he stopped thinking that way. He was wrong.

Thanks for reading ⟵⁠(⁠o⁠_⁠O⁠)

Cr: ntbkkkk on X, @.haunting mizi on Tumblr

#fanfic #headcanon #alien stage x reader #ivan x reader #gn reader #alnst x reader #ivan alnst

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kingofthe-egirls · 2 years ago

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SILLY IS THE NEW SEXY: GEAR 5 LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sex, flirting, squirting, creampie, silliness)

(an: i can't stop writing about gear 5 luffy)

Songs: "Monkey and Bear" by Joanna Newsom

words: 2.1k

You have curves like the sea, and as soon as Luffy lays eyes on you, he knows you’re different.

You ooze sex.

It clings to you like a second skin, as if sex appeal is a boa constrictor draped around your neck. Glittering and emerald, luxurious and reptilian, with striking ferocity in every touch.

He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Captain,” you say smoothly one night, enjoying drinks in the firelight, “You’re staring again.”

Luffy freezes, and then giggles sheepishly with his hand behind his head. “Shishishi, sorry,” he says, “M’not tryna be rude.”

“What are you trying to do?” You ask curiously, tipping your champagne back from its crystal flute. It tastes like sour cherries.

“I dunno,” he says plainly, and leans back on his hands. His legs are splayed out in front of him, sitting on the wood of the deck. He knocks his feet together. “I like looking at you, I guess.”

You stiffen, flattered at his words, before you take another sip. Stars flutter overhead. Blue velvet stretches across the sky, and the silver moon is only half-full.

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, pleased, “I like looking at you, too.”

He beams at that, and you both gaze at each other steadily. The waves crash and echo around the softly creaking ship, lullabies all around you. You let your gaze rake over him, boyish in form with muscular limbs and a shining face. Black hair under his straw hat, sticking out in spikes. You hum, appreciative.

“I like it a lot, in fact.”

You flush at your boldness, but only slightly. You’re no stranger to flirtation, and this is getting fun.

Luffy cocks his head. “Whatcha like about it?”

You detail the planes of his body with your eyes, gray and hazy in the moonlight. You take another sip of fizzy, liquid gold.

“Your face,” you say first, honestly, “It always makes me happy. Especially when you smile,” you cup your own cheek in one hand. He crinkles his nose, pleased, and looks off to the side. The silent question hangs on his lips: What else?

“Your shoulders are next,” you let your eyes fall over his muscles like a featherlight touch. “Your arms, your strength. It’s really impressive. I like when you wear red,” you move to sit on your knees, lowering onto the ground from where you’d been perched in a deck chair. Luffy scoots closer to you, too. He holds his forearm in front of you, and flexes. His wide hand is clenched in a loose fist. You let your fingers drift over swollen knuckles.

“Your hands,” you say softly, heat blooming in your gut. “You have really gorgeous hands,” you confess, and turn away before you can embarrass yourself further. You never knew the flirtation would get this far, with him sitting so close to you he’s radiating heat like the sun. You flick a lock of hair over your shoulder, and bump slightly into him. You clear your throat, “What about me?”

“Your curves! I like the way they look like waves,” he drags a broad hand across your waist, and pinches at the fat of your belly. “I like the way this rolls over,” he says, voice low, “I like the way your thighs shake as you walk. I like your ass,” he says the crass compliment like it’s nothing, like his touch isn’t burning hot lava into you. “I like the way you smell.”

“What do I smell like?” You breathe, already too far gone to pretend any further. You’re putty in his rubber hands.

He screws up his nose in thought. “Like butter? Or maybe…sea salt?” He licks his lips, “It smells tasty.”

“You smell good, too,” you blush, turning away. He knocks his shoulder into yours. You scoot closer, so your legs are touching. He hooks an ankle over yours. “Like tea.”

“Good tea?” He asks, and you nod. Tentatively, you lean your head onto his shoulder. He hesitates, breath held, but then relaxes into your touch quite naturally. He rests his head on top of yours, fluffy hair tickling your cheek.

“Very good tea,” you affirm. Your body is electrified, never having been this close to your captain before. “Do you like girls?” You ask abruptly, not wanting to tread water for any longer. You need to breathe.

“Mhmm,” he says, nodding against the top of your head. “Lotta people think I don’t, but I do.” He twines his fingers around yours, bringing them to rest on his lap. “D’you like boys?”

“Too much,” you chuckle, and sit up from him again. “Do you like me?” You gaze at him truthfully, letting your want and desire seep through into your skin. Your captain is clueless, but not that clueless. He regards you with a princely stare.

“Too much,” he echoes, and leans forward to kiss you.

****

Now, you’re suspended in midair, back pressed against the cabin wall, while Luffy fucks you senseless.

He’d brought you to his cabin, pressing your back against his door. He'd reached behind your supple hips to turn the deadbolt into its lock.

“Love ya, kitty,” he breathes into your shoulder, before scraping his teeth along your sensitive skin. “Love how ya move around like no one’s watching. As if anyone could ignore those fuckin’ curves.”

He grips hard at your ass, his other arm supporting your lower back. Your shoulder blades scrape against the cabin wall. He tastes like sea salt, and milk. You stick your tongue down his throat.

“Mmph,” Luffy moans into your throat, languid thrusts rocking you gently. He reaches down to thumb at your clit between you.

“So good, baby,” you croon, raking your fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck. He flickers gold for a second, white hair foaming at the ends of his raven strands. “Luffy?” You ask, watching his eyes swirl rosy. He giggles, grin wide, as he speeds up inside you. Your stomach bulges with his cock, and he gasps in mad abandon.

“Look at that…,” he whispers, feeling the head of his cock through your abdomen. Your stomach is not flat by any means (quite the opposite), but that doesn’t matter for Monkey D. Luffy. If he wants to see his cock, he’s gonna see his fucking cock.

“Luffy!!” Gasping for breath, watching his dick thrust in and out of you like you’re both made of rubber. Little hearts sprint in circles around his face, little ducklings following suit. He giggles, and you do, too.

Your eyes haze over into gold, with pink flecks of light bouncing around your tits. “Fuck—,” you gasp, watching the now curly-haired Luffy grit his teeth and fuck you hard. He lifts you off the wall, bucking his hips up into your cunt from below. The sounds of his balls slamming against your ass reverberates through the room, before his eyes bug out of his head like cartoon hearts. He’s slacked-jawed, tongue hanging out of his mouth as a wolf whistle sounds from somewhere off to the side.

“Aaaahhhh, kitty, ya feel so—oh!—goood!!!” He wails with his eyes squeezed shut. His muscular abs clench as he pistons his hips up into you. His cock is huge now, cartoonishly big as he pummels up into your cunt. It slaps and gushes, your clit aching, as Luffy tightens his hold around you. He leans down to bury his face in your tits, sucking hard on your sensitive nipples. He rolls his tongue around them, before elongating the muscle to wrap around your tit like a slimy tentacle. The tip flicks at your nipple.

Electricity bolts through you, zinging up your spine and down to your toes. Steam is curling around your face, presumably pouring out of your own ears. Luffy is giggling, manic, before leaning backward to careen you both into the bed. He jackhammers up into you, sitting now with you on his lap. His long tongue moves around your tit, sucking and licking like an animated restraint. His limbs are rubber wrapped around you now, sparks flying from where your bodies connect. His cock is thrusting sloppily against your cervix, which usually hurts but with him slams stars into your eyes. Your body is as elastic as he is, apparently.

Your fingers curl into his hair. “Luuuffyyyy,” you groan.

“Haahahaha!!!” He cackles, slurping his tongue back into his mouth. He slaps your other tit with a smack that makes a sound like a spring.

He leans down to suck your other nipple, not wanting his baby to feel uneven. His lips wrap around your bud, soft and chapped as he plays you with his tongue. Slow, sensual licks all over your hardened bud send shivers coursing through you. Luffy giggles, before ramming you down hard onto his aching cock. His lips stay tightly glued to your nip, so it makes your tit bounce up and down like a fucking porno. Luffy crosses his eyes up in pleasure.

Sex with new Luffy is freaky as fuck.

But (surprisingly?) his silliness has in no way deterred you from your own sparkling orgasm.

“S’fun, isn’t it?” He asks as he pops off your overstimmed nipple. You nod, vigorously. You push him forward onto his back, so that you can ride him at your own haphazard pace. You sink down further onto his cock, letting him hit it from below. Your elbows are on either side of his manic head. Your hips rocket repeatedly down into his, both of you grunting with every thrust.

Steamy hearts explode in front of your eyes.

"So fucking fun," you say, searing his grin into your senses for later. You're gonna be thinking about this hookup for ages.

Your pussy clenches at the thought, of maybe not having this be a one time experience, as Luffy moans. He stutters, grabbing your hips in searing hands.

Captain Luffy whines, head thrown back in sheer joy. His cock is bullying your walls, smaller now but no less thick. He brushes up against your g-spot, over and over again. It feels like something is going to spring out of you at any minute. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the impending release of your shaky orgasm. A wolf whistle sounds off again, steam clouding the room. You gasp, as you cum.

“Luffy!!” You squeal, heat overtaking you as you shiver in ecstasy. “Luuffy, fuuuuck….,” you drawl out, dragging your hands over his sculpted chest. He’s heaving in ragged breaths, scarlet blushed formed on his squishy cheeks.

“Squirt for me,” he commands, thumbing at your clit in rough circles. “Cmon, baby, I know ya can do it.”

He presses down hard against your lower abdomen, twitching his cock up inside you as you ride him. You bounce your way to orgasm, screaming and crying for the whole ship to hear. Somewhere deep in your core, you squirt onto his lower abdomen. Luffy laughs, giddy.

“S’coming, baby,” he warns you, eyes dark, as his thrusts grow sloppy. He slams his hips up into you, cock thrusting against your sweetest spots.

So deep--!

“Yeeesss,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You bury your face in moonlight hair.

“Ganna—,” he stutters, hips shuddering as he cums inside you with a violent thrust.

His eyes cross in pleasure as he spills his seed inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Luffy gasps, eyes squeezing shut as a wave of orgasmic, cosmic energy flows through him. He’s never had sex like this, before. He’s never had you, before. No way he’s letting you slip away, now.

“Say you’re mine, baby,” he says, sweating and panting as you both come down. His fingers trail along your hipbones. “I wanna be yours."

He's panting, his voice raspy and hoarse.

His hair is dark, now.

You watch as the last shreds of cartoon hearts fade out of existence around you. The steam has cleared up, too. And no more whistles sound. You snicker, "Sex is so fun, with you."

"Shishishi," he grins. And then, "Say you're mine, baby? Pleeaseee?" He whines up at you, and you snort.

"Sure thing, captain," you slide off of him, and he groans, "I'm all yours."

"Seriously," he pouts, poking your inner thigh. Your leg twitches, still spasming from the aftershocks. "Sex isn't usually this fun."

"Even after Gear 5?"

He smirks, "Steam was new. But," he looks up at you, wide-eyed and serious, "I really do wantcha, y/n."

You still, regarding him down the length of your nose. Your chest is fluttering, crazy butterflies going off in your stomach. "Sex is one thing," you allow, scared, "But relationships are a whole other thing. Seriously means you're serious with me. S'okay?"

Luffy nods. His grip tightens around your hips, as he sits up. "Seriously," he says, hand running over your thighs, "Silly, maybe. But serious." His face darkens, "And I don't wanna play games with you."

You swallow, and nod.

"Me neither."

****

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suksatoru · 5 months ago

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—sixth sense!

↪ rin has a specil sixth sense reserved just for you and your silly antics <3

pairing: itoshi rin x fem!reader

rin itoshi has a very special skill, one where he can predict when you're about to spew absolute nonsense. he says he has a sixth sense reserved just for your antics, and he also swears you're going to be the reason he has a full head of gray hair before he turns twenty.

"rinnie," you try again—pouting when rin exhales sharply from his nose, refusing to meet your gaze. rin sits on the ground at the end of his bed, and you sit perched on top of his blankets—hanging your head upside down to stare at him like the cheshire cat.

"no." he replies, short and curt as you drape yourself over his shoulder with a sigh. he shifts the slightest bit so you can comfortably curl your head against his form. you nose at his throat before speaking up again, quieter this time.

"pretty please? it's really all i want, rinnie. it would make my day—no, my life! please?"

rin thought you were the idiot in this relationship, but he knows he's the real lovesick fool. it wasn't impossible to say no, he says it to other people all the time. but your eyes are hopeful and round. and truthfully, the sight of your frown was truly his undoing.

rin lets out a dramatic sigh, loud and annoyed—and you know he accepts his defeat when he hands you his hair brush with a grumble. you roll off of the bed, sitting criss cross on the ground across him in an instant as you grab the nearby rubber bands laying on the floor with a dopey grin

"you just relax while i work rinnie! i promise, you won't even know i'm here!"

rin's deadpan expression only makes you laugh quietly, and you lean forward to place a gentle peck onto his lips. you hover over his mouth after pulling away an inch, taking a moment to admire his face before grinning

"grumpy," you muse as you gently brush your nose against his. rin mumbles something about you knowing nothing about personal space as he tugs you onto his lap

"if i'm bald by the end of this—"

"oooh rinnie your hair's so soft! i'm stealing your shampoo later," you interrupt with a giggle, pressing soft kisses onto the crown of his head as his shoulders slump. his broody expression is far too adorable to not kiss, and after peppering enough kisses onto his cheeks to leave them tinted pink—you get to work.

rin doesn't know why you want to style his hair. he regards your sparkly pink hair clips with an eye roll. but your fingers are gentle and soothing as they work to brush and style his hair, and he can feel the exhaustion slowly dispersing from his muscles as he leans into your touch.

"it feels...nice. thank you," he murmurs softly, gently rubbing your thigh as you hum in response. he moves to take a glance at you, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your tongue poked out in concentration as you work on tying his hair. cute.

it takes another fifteen minutes for you to finish your assault on his head. rin's practically putty beneath your fingers now, and there's a barely visible furrow between his brows when you pull your touch away from him.

"you look like a prince... you should totally let me style your hair more often, rinnie!" you gush, smiling softly as you admire your work on him.

"i'll be the judge of that," he mutters with a small smile, reaching onto his bed to grab your phone. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when he sees your wallpaper being his back and jersey number, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant as he lets out a startled yelp—staring at his reflection in the camera app.

"yeah. not happening, you cheeky brat." he scoffs, pointing at his head with a scowl

"y/n, tell me where you got five hundred charms of hello kitty clips... what damned store did you rob? and why are there pink extensions in my hair? are they—is that fucking glitter in them?"

rin eventually fell victim to a photoshoot, though he shouldn't be surprised. did he really think he'd escape you that easily? he's not very amused by your new wallpaper of him afterwards, but he can't even try and stop the amusement glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"not a soul will see those pictures. or i swear, i'll stick you in a gold fish tank y/n." rin mutters later that night as you two lay in bed, pressing feather soft kisses onto your shoulder blades as he silently admires the way your lips jut out in an adorable pout. his threat isn't very scary when he holds you like you're the most precious thing in his life, but you nod anyway.

"okay," you sigh in defeat. rin's eyes narrow suspiciously as he wraps his arms around your waist, settling in for the night as he turns off his bedside lamp.

"night, y/n." he whispers gently, his lashes brushing against your cheek as he kisses you softly. your hand gently brushes his bangs away from his eyes, and his face softens at your giggles

"night, rinnie. tomorrow you can style my hair! and then, we can be twins..." you affirm quietly. it's dark in the room, the night outside blanketing you two. there's a sliver of moonlight pouring through the window, and it's the only reason you're able to see the gentle smile on rin's face before you fall asleep.

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goodlucktai · 19 days ago

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hold the world to its best (7/?)

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au

with art by @soldrawss !

(prev) (next)

Raph wakes up early the next morning to the feeling of something going missing. A tiny weight beside him that isn’t there anymore.

The only reason it isn’t immediately alarming is because he can hear Leo talking quietly, the only cue his subconscious needs not to panic. He still cracks one eye open in time to see a familiar silhouette disappearing out his bedroom door.

Since the storm, Gio has been a little clingier and a lot quieter. It seemed to have stirred up anxiety that hasn’t settled yet, like sediment in water that’s taking its time drifting back to where it usually rests. When he isn’t actively being distracted from it, it sits with him, casting him in shadow.

He has enough shadows as it is. At four years old, they’re so much bigger than him.

I wonder if he had a nightmare, Raph thinks, and with that thought the grogginess still clinging to him vanishes instantly. With the sigh of someone who knows he won’t get back to sleep until he checks in, Raph hauls himself up out of bed.

There’s a light spilling out of the living room doorway, a block of warm yellow stamped across the hall. More than that, it’s the sound of his brothers’ voices that Raph’s following, that he’d be able to follow clear across the world. It probably wouldn’t even be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“—couldn’t get back to sleep either,” Leo is saying as Raph draws nearer. His tone is low and friendly, an automatic balm to frayed nerves. “I appreciate the company, Jorgito.”

It slaps Raph upside the head that he managed to forget about his little brother’s years-long losing battle with insomnia. In part, he thinks guiltily, because ever since Gio moved in, it’s been something they all worried less about.

Those first weeks after the invasion were rough for everyone, but it was especially hard to watch Leo wake up from a night terror and have absolutely no idea where he was. No idea if he was safe. Shuddering away when they reached out to him, eyes darting around the room with an expression of raw fear—as if he was an animal being hunted by some unimaginable monster, and not a teenage boy surrounded by the people who would kill for him with their teeth and bare hands if they had to.

All of them got a lot of practice at talking him down, at remembering to keep a light on for him. But Gio had a built-in fast-pass. Gio only had to put himself in Leo’s line of sight and take his hands, this brother of theirs who found Leo in the dark and carried him home in the first place, and all of the electrified, lock-jawed terror would seep from Leo like water down a leaky drain. If Gio was here, it meant he’d already been saved. It was a touchstone that never failed.

Even after Leo recovered and moved out of the medbay and left those night terrors behind, Gio continued to make it his business to keep the younger turtle company on sleepless nights.

The odds are very good that no one has thought to check in with Leonardo since Giorgio was cursed. Raph tries to think of when he last saw Leo without his mask and can’t pin it down.

“Guess you’ve always been an early bird,” Leo goes on, “even back when you were just a little baby bird. Mikey’s the same way—up with the sun for every second of the day till it goes down again. The circadian rhythm of a bumblebee, and just as busy as one, too. Ninety-percent of papa’s gray fur is that maniac’s fault, don’t believe anything anyone else tells you.”

Whatever Gio says in reply is too quiet for Raph to hear from the hall. He moves forward, enough to look through the doorway, and his heart melts into putty at the sight of Leo curled up in dad’s armchair with Gio nestled cozily on his plastron, the two of them nearly nose to nose and tucked under the cover of the family-favorite quilt.

If Leo’s tired, it doesn’t show. It’s hard to tell with him even on a good day. But his smile is one of the crooked, sincere ones.

“It’s nice of you to give me the chance to turn the tables.” Leo pokes one of the spots on Gio’s face. “I get to be the one that helps you out for a change.”

Gio asks something with his hands. Raph can’t see clearly enough from this angle to make out more than just the little question mark wiggle at the end. It makes Leo laugh, warm and golden, spilling light as easily as the glow from the lamp pours into the hallway.

“Are you kidding? My big brother Georgie is a professional monster-slayer. I learned all my moves from the best.”

Gio doesn’t say or sign anything else—he just considers that statement with a gravity ten times his current age, visibly working it around in his head the way he’d work a jawbreaker around in his mouth. Then he carefully tucks himself under Leo’s chin, one small hand clinging to the long tails of Leo’s mask.

He doesn’t look like he’s going to fall asleep again, even when Leo starts to hum a song by The Cranberries. He looks more like he’s prepared to soldier awake through the next hundred hours in a row if it means more time to absorb a hug and a song from someone happy to hold him and sing to him. Gio’s big dark eyes stay stubbornly open, even when Leo scritches along the scutes of his tiny spotted carapace, a tried and true tactic to put baby bothers to sleep.

A riot of tenderness in his chest that only smaller turtles can put there, Raph turns on his heel and takes himself into the kitchen. It’s hot chocolate o’clock. He wonders for a split-second if he should be concerned about Gio’s sugar intake, and then immediately decides that that sweet kid deserves all the spoiling they can manage to pack into however many days they get to have him.

When Raphael pushes past the noren-style curtains into the kitchen, he’s surprised to find Mikey there already, wide-awake—staunchly proving Leo right about being up with the sun like the bumblebees.

Only Raph’s little sunshine isn’t very bright this early morning. Mikey is staring hard at his hands, brushing softened butter over rolled-out dough and rubbing a mix of cinnamon and brown sugar on top of that. He must see Raphael in his periphery—or at the very least sense him with the not-unremarkable perception of someone who is all at once a living weapon, trained ninja, and student of mystic arts—but he doesn’t look up or offer a cheerful, cheeky greeting. There is a distinct downward tuck to the corners of his mouth, firmly unsmiling.

“Hey, kid,” Raph says, watching him as he collects mugs from the cabinet, “everything okay?”

“Uh, no,” Mikey replies sardonically, as if it’s an obvious answer. He battles with himself for all of two seconds before blurting, “I’m not stupid, Raph.”

Raph has no idea what he’s just walked into, but it doesn’t feel like he’s dealing with a grumpy turtle who woke up on the wrong side of the hammock. There’s a level of real hurt in Mikey’s voice that has all of Raph’s protective instincts rearing their collective head.

“Nobody said you were stupid,” he says immediately. “You’re everyone’s favorite person. Wars have been waged for less. What’s going on?”

Mikey’s frown deepens, pure upset in his bright red eyes. He moves onto rolling the dough into a tube and continues to pointedly not look at Raph.

“I keep thinking about the other day. The scars on Gio’s hands that upset you and Leo so much. I didn’t piece it together right away, but I’m not stupid. If Donnie’s tracker that he put on Gio when he was nineteen disappeared, Gio’s scars from then would have gone, too. But they’re still there, because they were there when he was a baby. Someone hurt him. Over and over, until it left a mark.”

He stops, brow furrowing, face screwing up the way it only does when he’s trying to act older than his age—usually when he’s trying not to cry.

“And he’s so thin. What the hell. We need more food than humans our age do, we burn through calories like crazy, and I bet—he was probably always hungry, he probably never got to feel full, and that’s not fair. And it’s just another thing that he carries around with him. And none of us ever noticed, because it was already a part of him when we first met.”

The tears finally burn their way out of Mikey’s eyes, dripping down his cheeks. He glares hard at the dough as he portions it into rolls, the set of his jaw daring Raph to comment.

Raph circles around the island to put a hand on Mikey’s carapace, unable to bear the space of the counter between them for a second longer. When it doesn’t cause the smaller turtle to snap, Raph rubs those sunny patterned scutes the way he can remember doing from as far back as five years old.

“It’s not fair,” Mikey says again in a voice that wobbles. “He doesn’t tell us stuff. And it wouldn’t matter even if he did ‘cause we couldn’t fix it anyway.”

“We are fixing it,” Raph says, knowing it’s true in his blood and his bones. “You’re fixing it, by doing exactly what you do every day. By doing this,” he adds, tapping the corner of the baking pan that the dough rolls are being nestled into, a just-because little kindness that comes to Michelangelo as easy as breathing. “It means the world to him, Mike. You know it does.”

Mikey rubs his face dry on the inside of the collar of his hoodie, takes a deep breath while he’s still hidden, then pops out and declares, “He deserves it!”

“Hell yeah he does,” Raph rumbles back.

The rolls are covered and left to rise and the counter is wiped down, utensils and dishes moved to the sink. Then Mikey squares his shoulders and summons a smile. It’s a good one, huge and toothy and dimpled. He’s dredging up that familiar force-of-nature optimism—less naivety and more plain willingness to wrestle the world into the shape he wants it to take one impossible hurdle at a time.

He spares a moment to shove himself forward into Raph’s arms for a squeeze, and then swings around the island to shoot for the living room at full speed, shouting, “Are we turtle piling?”

“‘Morning, bumblebee,” Raph hears Leo say affectionately. “Hey, Gigi, you think there’s room for Mikey in here?”

“Always room for Mikey,” Gio’s little voice answers clearly. From the way he starts to giggle at the same time Leo lets out a theatrical oof, it must have been all the encouragement Mikey needed to dive right in.

Their overlapping chatter keeps Raphael company as he heats enough milk to fill four mugs. He isn’t going to go crazy and make the from-scratch stuff on the stove the way Mikey finds any reason to, but he’ll add a dash of cinnamon and vanilla extract to the instant mix the way dad always did when they were kids. And he puts an ice cube in Gio’s, knowing the little gremlin is going to go in for a scalding gulp at the first whiff of chocolate. It’s the work of less than ten minutes, and most of that time is spent waiting on the microwave.

Raph’s fingers are too big for the mug handles, but big enough to comfortably carry all four at once into the living room. He doesn’t so much distribute them as he does hold out his hands and wait for smaller ones to reach out and extract their color-coded drink.

“Ooh, thanks Raphie!” Mikey says.

“We’re gonna have to eat raw carrots for lunch at this rate,” Leo says, wrapping both hands around his mug to better absorb the warmth. “Don’t think I didn’t clock the butter and sugar on your sleeve, Michael.”

“Aw, what?” Mikey says, leaning out of the turtle pile enough to check the sleeve in question. He puffs out his cheeks when he finds the stain near his elbow. “Whatever! It’s all for the cause! I’m making cinnamon rolls for my favorite cinnamon roll,” he goes on, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s tiny one.

“Me?” says Gio.

“Of course you,” Leo scoffs playfully. “You see any other cinnamon rolls around here?”

Gio’s eyes are huge and deep and watchful. His mug looks laughably big in his hands. He says, “Your favorite?”

“My favorite ever of all time,” Mikey says, utterly serious. He even means it—all of his siblings are his absolute favorite sibling.

“Really?” Gio checks in a quiet voice. He ducks a little bit, shoulders curling, as if he’s waiting for them to lose their tempers over all the repeated questions, every inch a little turtle weighing the pros and cons of hiding inside his shell.

“Really really,” Raph answers right away.

“Even though I’m a brat?” Gio asks.

Leo goes so still in Raphael’s periphery that he might as well be carved from stone. Mikey is more obvious about his upset, sucking in a sharp breath that hisses through his teeth. Raph’s last drink of hot cocoa feels blistering as it makes his way down his throat, the rest of him abruptly and absurdly cold.

“You are not a brat,” Leo says with as much feeling as when he said I missed on purpose.

“Who said that to you?” Raph asks carefully.

“Everybody,” Gio says. It would sound matter-of-fact coming from anyone else. It still hurts like a knife to the chest. Especially because Gio’s mouth turns down, and his eyes fall to land in the lukewarm chocolate he isn’t drinking anymore, and he says, “I want to be your favorite Gio instead.”

“You are!” Mikey chokes out, practically a shout, and he doesn’t need the warning look Leo gives him over the top of Gio’s head to know better. He bites the inside of his lip until he’s certain he can control his volume and says, “Don’t you listen to anybody else! You’re our big brother and you’re brave and cool and kind and smart, and we love you so much!”

Gio doesn’t immediately break into a smile at that, which should have been the first red flag.

It should have been one of several clues that Raph has been too slow to put together into the obvious picture. Giorgio isn’t a secretive child—he isn’t even really a secretive person at twenty, as mysterious as a plain brick wall—but he speaks so sparingly that it’s hard to gauge when he doesn’t have anything to say, and when he’s doing his best to talk around something that will hurt him.

Later, Raph will kick himself for not catching it. Gio has been asking over and over what the other Gio is like—the big Gio. The better Gio. He’s been absorbing everything they’ve had to say with a serious little face and a downturned mouth, assimilating the information into his understanding of his place in their family.

Of course all of that would lead to the place that it does.

Donatello had felt a type of way about finding out he had incidentally been excluded from impromptu early-morning turtle piles and seized custody of their baby brother for the rest of the day in comeuppance. So Gio should have been tucked away in the genius’ bedroom for an afternoon nap, but instead he was wide awake and peeking through Raph’s door.

Gio hugs a teddy bear as big as he is to his stomach, looking up at the much larger turtle with careful, worried eyes, and asks, “When I’m the brother you like again, will Raphie still hug me?”

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato raphael #hamato giorgio #my writing #the archer au #tmnt fic #sol wants me DEAD with that art btw #i didnt edit or proofread this pray for me !!!

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babydollslibrary · 5 months ago

Text

ENCHANTED — JAMIE DRYSDALE

jamie drysdale x hughes!reader

published: September 17th, 2023

summary: in which y/n meets Jamie on a boring night and becomes completely enchanted with him

GIF by bagopucks

this wasn’t where i wanted to spend my night.

after two years in Anaheim, i thought i had successfully avoided my brother’s best friend dragging me to parties or nights out.

i always had an excuse handy.

“sorry Trevor, i have a big test. i gotta study.”

“i have major cramps, sorry Trev.”

“i have study group, sorry!”

“sorry Trevor, i have a shift at the campus store!”

that last one came back to bite me in the ass after Trevor had mentioned it to Jack and my loving brother outed me on the fact that i don’t even have a job.

that’s what got me here. finally conned into being Trevor’s friendly plus-one to John Gibson’s end-of-the-season party. despite the fact that i was telling the truth this time when i said i had to study for finals.

Trevor had pulled some pouty puppy face over facetime, reminded me that i lied to him last time, and even pulled out the “i just wanna hang out with you, mini Hughes. i never get to see you, even though we live in the same city. you may as well be as far away as Jack.”

and just like that, i was putty in his hands. i agreed to accompany, only on the agreement that he wouldn’t leave me alone when we got here. and he hasn’t, so far.

he stands next to me, an arm leant against my shoulder, as he chats with Troy Terry.

“this is y/n Hughes, my itty bitty best buddy!” his speech is slightly slurred, already significantly buzzed, but not quite drunk yet.

“you gotta stop calling me that.” i roll my eyes. “i’m not fourteen and 5’3 anymore.”

“but you’re still not my height,” he laughs, ruffling my hair. “so it stays.”

i send Troy a pleading glance and his head tips back in laughter.

“so, you’re Quinn, Jack, and Luke’s sister?” Troy asks.

“yeah, i’m between Jack and Luke.” i explain and he nods, making a comment about how hard it must be being the only girl.

“where’s Jamie, Trevor? thought he would’ve driven with you.” Troy questions, and i’m grateful for the change of subject.

i love my brothers, but they’re all anyone ever wants to talk about. i’m my own person, my life doesn’t revolve around them.

“nah, i picked this one up, so Jamie’s driving on his own. he should be here soon though.”

i zone out as the conversation shifts to their off-season plans, forcing a laugh whenever Trevor tells a horrendous joke, and faking a smile when he mentions that he’ll be coming to my brothers lake house.

but eventually i get bored, instead turning my head to look around the crowded house.

i recognize a few people from the Ducks games i’ve watched or attended. John Gibson, the goalie. Mason McTavish, the young center.

but then i see him.

dark hair and blue eyes contrast against pale skin. even from across the room, i can see the freckles that litter across his nose and cheekbones. his gaze shifts around the room, and when it settles on where i am, he seems to let out a relieved sigh, making his way over.

my body tenses, my posture becoming straighter, and as i push my shoulders back slightly, i accidentally knock Trevor’s arm off. but he doesn’t seem to notice, a large goofy smile breaking out across his face as he cheers.

“Jimbo! you made it!”

a blush rises to the gorgeous boy’s cheeks, huffing out an awkward chuckle. it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

“Jimmy, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jamie!” Trevor introduces us and realization settles over me.

this is Jamie? Trevor’s best friend and roommate in California?

he reminds me of a disney prince. his eyes meet mine, wonder shining amongst them.

“have we met? you seem kinda familiar.” his voice reminds me of daylight breaking amongst gray clouds. warmth and security flowing throughout my body.

but before i can respond, Trevor butts his way in again.

“i’m gonna go get another drink! i’ll be back.”

Trevor pushes his way between us, heading off toward the kitchen, and Jamie laughs again.

“so, how drunk is he?” Jamie questions, his head nodding towards where Trevor disappeared.

“well, about ten minutes ago, he was singing me the mighty ducks theme song.” i explain and Jamie nods in understanding.

“got it. so, he’s sober.” he remarks and i let out a giggle.

“yeah,” i drag out. “there really isn’t much of a difference between sober and drunk Trevor, is there?”

“not when he’s as wild drunk as he is sober.” Jamie jokes, and i hum in agreement.

“so, you’re the infamous Jamie Drysdale?” i raise an eyebrow, watching as his cheeks turn pink.

“oh god, he talks about me?” he laughs and i nod.

“you’ve been mentioned a few times.” i confirm. “all good things, of course.”

Jamie and i stand in that same spot almost all night, eventually moving to the couch when we realize that Trevor isn’t coming back.

“so, you’re a student at… Chapman?” he gathers.

“yeah, i’m about to end my junior year. one year online during the pandemic, and two years on campus here.” i explain and he nods his head in understanding, taking a sip of his soda.

“what’s your major?”

“broadcast journalism. my main focus is sports entertainment.” he nods again before his nose scrunches in confusion, his eyebrows pulling together.

“and you’ve known Trevor this whole time?” i hum out in agreement. “how have we never met until now?”

“okay, don’t judge me.” i preface, making him chuckle, but agree. “i’m not much of a party person. i prefer to stay in my dorm and watch movies. so, i always make up an excuse to get out of coming to parties with Trevor.”

his head tips back in laughter, causing a rush of heat to spread across my face, but at the sight of my blush, he shakes his head.

“wait, no! no! i’m not laughing at you, i swear! i’m laughing because i do the same thing.” his words are spoken through broken laughter, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“really? you’re his roommate!”

“that doesn’t mean i love partying!” he defends himself. “i’m more introverted. quieter than Z. a lot of people wonder why we’re friends, but, we balance each other out.”

he shrugs and i tilt my head, squinting my eyes.

“hm, yeah, i could see that.” i admit. “my best friend and i are the same way. she’s a lot like Trevor.”

as the words leave my mouth, my face drops; my eyes wide, my lips parted in horror.

“oh god, she’s like Trevor.” Jamie’s entire body folds in laughter, his face turning bright red as his hand lands on my knee, sending sparks up my leg.

he looks so carefree and happy, i can’t help but sneak a picture.

“so, neither of us like parties,” Jamie starts, once he’s finally calmed down from laughing at my horror. “and Trevor has left us, and i doubt he’s coming back.”

“definitely not. that boy has the attention span of a goldfish.” i joke and Jamie agrees.

“so why don’t we get out of here?” he asks. my lips part, blood rushing to my cheeks, but before i can speak, he cuts me off. “wait, not like that. that came out wrong! what i mean is, i could really go for some food. and maybe getting out of this crowded house.”

“oh- yeah.” i nod, sliding my phone in my pocket. “yeah, that sounds great.”

“great!” he rises from the couch, holding his hand out for me to take; and i do, slipping my hand into his larger, more calloused hold.

he pulls me up from the couch, his grip never faltering as we exit the house with an irish goodbye and head to his car.

he opens the passenger door, finally dropping my hand to allow me to slide in, but i catch his hand flex in my peripheral vision and despite my now cold hand, my heart races in my chest. did i just get my own pride and prejudice moment?

“do you have any special requests on where to eat?” he questions as he starts the car.

“um, no.” i shrug. “anywhere with chicken tenders is fine with me.”

he laughs. “then i know just the place.”

the ride is made in a comfortable silence after that. nothing but the sound of country music flowing through the radio.

Jamie pulls into a diner parking lot, mostly empty due to the late timing, and we head inside, taking a seat in a booth towards the middle of the establishment.

“your chicken tenders, await.” he grins, pointing out the item on the laminated menu, slightly sticky with syrup.

“hey, don’t knock the chicken tenders. they’re an important food group.” i stick out my lip in a fake pout and he chuckles.

“yeah, if you’re ten.”

“oh yeah, well what are you gonna get? a burger?” he opens his mouth to defend himself, but as i raise a brow, he chooses to stay silent, letting out a ‘hmph’

“that’s what i thought.” i grin in triumph as a waitress stops by to take our orders. as soon as she leaves, my phone buzzes in my pocket and i slide it out, huffing a laugh at the text.

***

from: quack-quack 🦆 yo, where’d u go?! u disappeared on me! ***

i show the text to Jamie, who laughs as well.

“guess he did try to come back to us.” he shrugs.

“yeah, three hours after he left us!” i giggle, holding my phone up to take a picture of Jamie, who smiles, his arms crossed on the table.

the photo is the only response Trevor gets, but barely 5 minutes later, interrupting Jamie and i’s heavy debate on which Star Wars movie is the best, i get another text.

*** from: jacky ♥️🖤 why is Z telling me you’re out with a guy? at 11:30 at night?? y/n, go home. now. it’s unsafe and i can’t believe you’re being so reckless. i’ll deal with this in the morning. ***

i roll my eyes, choosing to ignore the text and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“Trevor again?” Jamie asks but i shake my head.

“no, worse. my brother.” i explain as our food arrives.

i smile over at the waitress, muttering out a ‘thank you’ before she retreats.

“you have a brother?” he speaks up as i take a bite of chicken and i nod.

“i have three.” i don’t give him any more information than that. if he’s unaware of who my brothers are, then i don’t want to tell him. not tonight, at least.

“oh damn.” he blows out a breath, his eyes widening. “i have a brother, but i can’t imagine having three. and being the only girl?”

“yeah, they’re pretty protective.”

“do they live here?” he asks, and it feels nice; being able to talk about my family without someone already knowing who they are and pretty much everything about them.

“no.” i shake my head. “one lives in canada, the other two on the east coast.”

he ask me more questions about my family, and i try to keep my answers as vague as possible, while still not being too vague that he thinks i don’t wanna talk about them.

for every question i answer, he gives me a fact about his own family, until the conversation shifts to jobs.

“well obviously you know i’m a hockey player.” he says as i push my now-empty plate away. “do you work?”

“not right now.” i tell him. “i’m focused on school at the moment. i got a full-ride scholarship, because of my grades, so i don’t have to pay for my tuition, and my parents pay for my dorm.

“but because they don’t have to pay for my tuition, they send me a monthly allowance from my college fund so that i don’t have to work and i can focus on my schooling.”

he follows along as i explain, maintaining eye contact.

“that’s cool. it’s good, that you get to focus on your grades.” i yawn as he finishes speaking, attempting to cover it, but he catches on. “oh shit, are you tired?”

“i- just a little bit.” i wince, hoping he doesn’t think i found him boring or anything.

“i can drop you off at your dorm, if you want. i know Trevor picked you up”

i nod as he motions over to the waitress for the check.

“yes, please.” i give in. “i usually wouldn’t mind staying out all night with you, because i’m having a really good time, and you’re so funny and sweet. but, i need to sleep so i can study tomorrow. i have a final on Monday.”

Jamie pays, waving off my offer to pay for my own food, and we exit the diner, climbing back into his car.

the time on his dashboard reads one am and i internally cringe at the idea of having to sneak back into my dorm.

the drive is mainly quiet as i give him directions to my dorm, and i sigh as we pull up in front of the building.

“i had a lot of fun.” i turn to him with a small smile as i unbuckle my seatbelt. “thanks for making tonight a lot less boring, Jamie.”

“yeah, me too.” he nods, “thanks for saving me from drunk Trevor.”

i’m grateful for the darkness of the night sky as he leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek, thanking whatever higher being that he’s unable to see the pink twinge on my cheekbones.

i bid him a goodnight as i exit the car, looking back as i reach the door to the dormitory building, to see him waiting for me to get inside before he leaves. i wave another goodbye, him doing the same as i disappear into the brick building.

i’m blushing, grinning like a lovesick fool the entire elevator ride up to my dorm.

i wonder if he knows how enchanted i was by him. one night together and i’m already thinking about how i would introduce him to my family.

i tiptoe into the dorm room, quiet to try and avoid waking my best friend slash roommate, but my efforts go unappreciated as she’s already sitting up in her bed, waiting for me.

“how was it? were you miserable without me?” Brandy asks from her spot propped against her mountain of pillows. “i bet you were, right?”

but i’m quiet; my mind still stuck on Jamie. he was amazing. so kind, and funny. and he actually asked about me. he genuinely wanted to know about my family and friends, what i liked to do in my free time, and what i wanted to do with my degree.

“oh- i know that look.” Brandy squeals, hopping off her bed and disregarding my half-nakedness in the midst of getting changed into my pajamas, pulling me in for a hug. “who is he? what’s his name? where’s he from? does he have a hot brother?”

“Trevor’s roommate, Jamie, Canada, and he has a brother but i don’t know what he looks like.” i spill, my cheeks red and a wide grin on my lips.

you’d think i just told Brandy i won the lottery with the way she lets out an excited shriek, jumping up and down as i finish changing.

i leave her to get out her excitement as i go wash my face and brush my teeth, but when i’m back, she just seems even more excited.

“tell me all about him!” she demands, hopping back into her bed, turning to face mine as i crawl in and bury myself in my covers.

“he was enchanting.” i sigh, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. “he was so funny, and he was so sweet. we really clicked, Bran.

“we met at the party and spent hours just talking and getting to know each other. and then he took me to this diner, and we spent another hour and a half just talking about our lives. and he doesn’t know who my brothers are! i mean, he knows who they are, obviously, because he plays hockey, but he doesn’t know they’re my brothers.”

“oh sweet angel,” she sighs, and i turn my head to look at her. “you seem so happy.”

her eyes are soft, a gentle smile on her face.

“i am.” i tell her.

“are you gonna see him again?” she questions, laying down under her blankets.

“i don’t know, i—” my mood deflates, my face dropping as realization settles over me. “i didn’t get his number.”

“so ask Trevor for it.” she shrugs, as if it’s easy. and i guess for her, someone who doesn’t have crippling anxiety, it is.

“i can’t.” i shake my head. “that would be so embarrassing. i don’t want Trevor to know i’m interested in his friend. not yet.”

“you’ll see him again, sweet angel.” Brandy assures me, flicking off her lamp. “it’ll work out.”

the room goes dark and quiet, and a mere five minutes later, i can hear her snores fill the room. but i’m still awake.

i grab my phone from where it rests on my bedside table, unlocking it, i’m unsurprised to see it’s two am. i click into my photos app, swiping back and forth between the two pictures i took of Jamie tonight.

questions plague my thoughts.

does he have a girlfriend in canada?

who does he love?

when is he leaving, now that the season is over?

will i ever see him again?

please let this be the very first page of our story.

please don’t let this be where our storyline ends.

i turn off my phone, plugging it in and setting it back on my nightstand. his name echoes through my thoughts, and when i close my eyes, all i picture is him.

please don’t be in love with someone else.

please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

i drift into sleep, my dreams overridden by the same blue eyed, freckled boy that had taken over my mind.

*** TWO MONTHS LATER ***

it’s been months, but i still haven’t moved past that April night with Jamie.

i can be having a normal summer day, and yet some way or another, i’m reminded of the beautiful boy that i spent that night with.

sometimes it’s the blue of the lake water, which reminds me of his eyes. others it’s the color of my coffee in the morning, that reminds me of his hair.

it doesn’t help that nearly all of Trevor’s stories from the past season, include Jamie in some way.

it’s been months, and i still hope to every higher power, that i’ll see him again. that he’s single and hoping to see me too.

i’m sprawled across the couch, my head in my eldest brother’s lap as the guys play chel.

i was reading a book, but that’s been long abandoned; now closed and resting on my chest as i daydream about the freckled disney prince like boy from Anaheim.

“hey.” my trance is broken when Quinn pokes my cheek. i glance up at him, tearing my eyes away from their zoned out glare at the tv. “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” i give him a small smile. “just wondering where Trevor is and if he can stay there. it’s so quiet.”

Quinn laughs, zoning back into the tv screen as a new game starts between Jack and Cole.

“he went to-” Quinn is cut off by the front door opening and Trevor’s loud voice echoing throughout the house.

“honey, i’m home!” Trevor calls out and Quinn and i share an exasperated glance. “and i brought a guest!”

my brows furrow together at his statement, listening to the two pairs of footsteps that get closer to the living room.

“guys, this is Jamie. you know him from… playing against him.”

my eyes go wide, my head snapping up as i quickly raise myself to a sitting position, accidentally kicking Jack in the groin from my feet having been in his lap.

Jack lets out a groan, doubling over, while Cole laughs and takes that as his chance to score a goal on him in the video game.

“Jimbo, this is Cole, Alex, Quinn, and Jack, who looks like his appendix burst.” Trevor introduces and Jack coughs, holding up his middle finger at his best friend. “and you already know y/n.”

at the mention of my name and the flick of Trevor’s finger towards me, Jamie’s eyes snap to me, a smile on his face.

“hi.” i grin, shuffling to my knees on the couch.

“hey, i’m glad to see you again. i didn’t know you would be here.” Jamie’s eyes light up, crinkling as his smile gets brighter.

“it’s her brothers’ house Jimmy, of course she’ll be here.” Trevor laughs, slapping Jamie’s back, whose eyes go wide as he realizes.

“oh- these are your brothers? you didn’t say they played hockey.” Jamie chuckles awkwardly.

“what?” Jack huffs from behind me. “not only have you met him? but you didn’t tell him about your dear old brothers?”

Jack wraps an arm around the front of my shoulders, pulling me back into him and ruffling my hair.

“get off me, jackass!” i break free from his hold, making him laugh. “i didn’t tell him who you are, but i did tell him how annoying you are.”

Jack gasps in mock offense, reaching out for me, but i clamber into Quinn’s lap.

“keep him away, Quinny!” i shriek, making all the guys laugh.

“Jack, leave her alone.” Quinn chuckles and Jack slumps back on his seat, rolling his eyes.

“you two are no fun.”

“hey mini Hughes?” Trevor starts, plopping down into the seat beside Jack. “you mind showing Jimmy to the empty room? i wanna beat Cole’s ass at chel.”

“sure.” i rise from Quinn’s lap, sending a smile towards Jamie as i motion for him to follow me. he picks up his suitcase, shuffling behind me through the house and up the stairs until i lead him into the empty room beside mine.

“here ya go. your room for the… however long you’re here.” he chuckles at my words, setting his suitcase down on the bed before he turns to me.

“ya know, i was hoping i’d see you again.” he confesses, my cheeks turning pink.

“yeah?” he nods, “me too.”

“i was enchanted to meet you that night.” his hand grabs ahold of mine, lacing our fingers together. “and then i realized i didn��t get your number, and it felt too weird to get it from Trevor. so, i was really hoping i would run into you next season, but here you are now.”

“here i am.” i bite my lip, glancing down at his lips before back at his eyes.

“would you wanna go out while i’m here?” he asks shyly. “like, on a real date?”

“i would love that, Jamie.” i take the chance while i feel bold, wrapping my arms around his neck, his following suit and coiling around my waist.

“yeah?” he replies giddily, his voice filled with excitement and nerves.

“yeah. i’d love that a lot.” his eyes flicker down to my lips before his tongue darts out to wet his own.

“hey, Jamie?” my words earn me a distracted hum in return. “you finally gonna kiss me now?”

“oh yeah.” he nods, causing me to giggle.

his head dips down, our noses brushing as his lips finally press against mine. my entire body melts into his, my hands cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. our lips fit together perfectly, fire spreading throughout my body at the feeling.

and all i can think, is how enchanting this feeling is.

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